BEAUTY AT THE WINDOW

She was in her bed, lying in the blanket, sleeping in the night and dreaming in the darkness, about lights that surrounded her with nature in its full colour which pleased her eyes and finally tears of true happiness rolled down her cheeks.

Her hair, which was kept loose, long and deep black, spread over her bed and some glided down her cheeks, some fell over her face of which one was heedless but the silence of the darkness had witnessed what it had to. Her lips, which had no artificial colour on them, were ruby-like, and her eyelids seemed to be protecting her dreams which she was seeing in her deep slumber. It was true that she was sleeping but her beauty wasn’t. It seemed to be livelier, changing all the time as the time passed evenly.

The sun rose from its sleep. She also followed the sun with a silent opening of her eyes which were now exposed to the light. She seemed to have liked her dream more than this truth. But then she made a little compromise and came down the bed and took a few easy steps to a window near to her. She was then facing the soft incoming wind as soon as she opened the window. Once again a sweet smile filled with happiness appeared through her lips.

Outside, there was a play-ground in which some boys were playing cricket. They were the selected players for the junior team of that locality. A boy named Suman saw her at the window and very soon he lost interest in his practice and sat down to watch her. He found her smiling. He also smiled many times and wished that she had seen his best smile. He then lost her into the room.

Then Suman felt, the very next day, he was taking more interest in her than his game. He saw her standing at the window, with her long hair before her body and she was combing it. She was carrying the loveliest smile. Suman was much determined about that.

Suman was a good cricketer. He was the only batsman on which the team work would depend. It was a surprise to the coach to witness him out of form. Suman looked like he had no interest in cricket and sometimes he played like one who didn’t know how to play.

Dilip, his team-mate, once caught him looking secretly at the girl at the window. Suman had to tell his heart.
‘I am in love with that girl. I want to meet her.’

Dilip looked at him fixedly.

‘I think she also loves me,’ Suman added

‘How can you say that?’ Dilip asked.

‘She has always smiled at me.’

Dilip then said, ‘Forget her. Give your attention to the game; otherwise you will lose your position in the team.’

‘I can’t. You must help me. You live in this same building. So, you can tell her a word or two from me.’

‘Look Suman. She doesn’t love you. And she wasn’t smiling at you.’ Suman wasn’t ready to believe him.

‘The smiles you had seen were the smiles of her personal happiness.’

‘But she smiled whenever I smiled,’ Suman insisted. ‘I saw her,’

‘Leave it. My dear friend.’

‘Why?’ Suman asked, this time he was little bit annoyed.

‘Because that girl is blind,’ Dilip uncovered the secret.

‘What?’, Suman shouted. ‘Blind!’

Suman looked towards that window and found her still in good spirits and afterwards she vanished into the room.

Where Is My Star?

Where is that star
I want to see?
There are many
Shining as they should be
But where is mine?
Hidden behind the cloud
Or there is not one like that;
I shout aloud
Where is my star?
As lovely as a dream,
As true as a reality,
And as rich as the cream;
Will it ever shine in my sky?
From the depth of the darkness
Will it fight its battle
And come out victorious into the brightness.

QUEER FISH

It happened when I was staying at Bauria in West Bengal. We were going to Kerala on 31st July, 2002. Our chief worry was about the aquarium. What to do with it? At first we decided to keep it with our neighbour, but it was changed and finally decided to keep it where it was - on my study table. I bought worms worth Rs.2 and just before leaving, put the whole lot into the aquarium, some dry food and dry worms. The main switch was put off and we were off.

Travelling by Madras Mail and West Coast Express, I was thinking about fish. We reached Kannur station and finally home where whenever I ate fish, I was reminded of our aquarium. We knew all the fish would die of hunger, but there is one chance. If they began to take the plants in the aquarium, they might live. But there was none to support this view. All believed that all the fish would die. One even said all the colourful fish would die and become colourless. I, sometimes, agreed with them, but I was feeling that if, however, the fish dined the plants,they might live. I had sometimes imagined that all were floating in the aquarium.

Whatever the result would be, it was certain that we would have to change the water as it had not been changed for three months.

We returned by West Coast Express and Howrah Mail, a local train to Bauria, finally an auto which took us to our quarter. My father opened the door and I rushed in to see the aquarium. We were astonished to find our fish alive except for a Gold fish which was dead and two others, whose dead bodies were never found. They were so small that they might have been devoured by the giants.

I put some dry food into it and all the living fish began to swallow them. To our amazement, none of the plants were touched. The water was as clean as we left it. The main switch was put on and I switched on to let the filter work and the air bubbles rose to the surface of the water.

We could not believe it, so could not the people who had heard it. I wondered about it as I changed the month to August and the day to 21st, Wednesday.

For full 20 days, the aquarium full of fish had stayed on my table, without the motor working and without food.

In May 2003, we sold the aquarium full of gallant fish, as we

had to move to Medchal, near the twin-city Hyderabad and 

Secunderabad in Andhra Pradesh.

Read my other Short Stories

IT IS ALWAYS THERE

A seed is sown,

It has lots of creation inside;

So what is in this world outside?

What can restrain it destined to be grown?

It may not be noted;

But it is always there

Changing every time there

Fighting and living unknown;

Come storm, come rain,

Boldly it has faced a lot,

Wildly it has changed a lot,

Grown big, so is its pain,

So wide is its shade

And wider goes its perfume,

Not so much to make a soul presume

A creation is perfectly made.

Unknown, unloved and unadorned,

Unsung the creation has its destruction inside

So what is in this world outside?

What can restrain it now destined to be destroyed?

It may not be noted

But it is always there

Changing every time there

Fighting and dying unknown;

Come storm, come rain,

Disintegrate each and every piece,

Cremate each and every piece,

There is nothing now to gain,

Gone forever is the shade,

Gone forever is the perfume,

Gone so far away to make a soul presume

There has never been a creation perfectly made.



Read my other Poems

Shiva Parvati Ganesh Temple

Shiva Parvati Ganesh Temple is located in Ponda of Goa State, India. There is also a huge Ganesh statue.

Creativity in Goa

I always believe creativity is directly related to place. Little did I realize that creativity in Goa would be different from the places like Medchal in A.P., Bauria in W.B., Kannur in Kerala, etc.

In the month I arrived i.e. May, the reservation issue was hot enough to make me write my opinion regarding it and send it to The Navhind Times. It was published. It was my first letter to editor. Numerous letters followed it in addition to one published in The Week and I got them added to my site. A poem: ‘On the Pavement He Lay’ was also published in the Sunday Magazine of The Navhind Times: Panorama.

If my creativity got its wings while staying at Fort Gloster Staff Quarter where my mood got much time and more space to develop and what followed is now seen in Goa where many of my work are published although those were without any payment. It will come when it has to, I believe. Now it is the time to develop more and more and reach where my creative power would lead me to. 

The computer has brought more development to my creativity. My experiment with HTML and Adobe Photoshop and ImageReady has to said noteworthy as it has given new dimension to my creativity.

Life in Goa

September 5, 2006

Happy Oman! I have taken leave and so has my father; both are working at the same place but different departments.

Life at Ponda in Goa is different from that at Medchal in Andhra Pradesh. If at Medchal, my poem was published in Woman’s Era and I created a site for my creative side of life. While at Ponda, I got the idea of starting writing letters to the editor on current topics in The Navhind Times. Sometimes I feel the left side, of my brain, where the whole seed to leaves and fruits of creativity resides is more active than the right one which is used to lead an ordinary life. Creativity is indeed the food for my soul whereas salary brings food for my stomach.

Weather too is different. Medchal, and the twin cities – Secunderabad and Hyderabad -  are hot and dry, with less humidity and less rain, while Ponda, Panaji or Panjim, Margao, etc. are the places where humidity is high with heavy rains during rainy season. I got the climate similar to Kerala.

O my nose!

O my nose! You must have heard people saying 'O my god!' But I say 'O my nose!', when my nose is cloudy and rains a million drops or more. This is where the whole nonsensical things begin to harvest and it becomes too much when it crawls upto my eyes which then have nothing on earth to do but rain, rain and rain.

And these occasional nasal eruptions, I think, can bring down a whole building. Soon it becomes sensibly unbearable that I feel like shaving my nose. 'Shave your nose! Shave your nose!,' shouting out to me, my anger, red as tomato, but never looking to be delicious as it should be, says, says and says.

Yes. Shave it now. And put it in a show-case under a caption 'Cold Nose - A ridiculous place where cold war will never say good-bye.'

Ready with a cheap but reputedly sharp knife, I stand on my both legs, thinking with a hairy head that if I shave it right or left, I have a great risk of feeling myself an incarnation of Shurpanaka.
O my nose!

Student Life: Syllabus, Examination & Tuition

I was never a bright student. I gave an admission test in an English medium school in West Bengal. My parents and I were called for an interview. The principal said somewhat like this: ‘Mathematics is okay but his English is poor.’

I was never a bright student, I repeat, since I could hardly learn anything by heart. Even for the I.C.S.E and I.S.C examinations, I read the text books and wrote mostly in my own words. With some difficulty and by reading and writing several times, I was successful in remembering some chosen definitions. Several times, I did not get any rank. Some students did suggest taking tuitions from the subject teachers. As I was not in favour of private coaching by the school teachers, I preferred external teachers.

Learning in class seven, I used to go to my friend’s house where a teacher would teach us almost all the subjects. Everything was excellent except for his technique of teaching English. He made us comprehend Bengali grammar and do translations from Bengali and Hindi (for me) to English almost daily before he started English, which I considered (and consider even now) was pointless and wastage of time. We then moved to some other place, which made it difficult for me to go to my friend’s house, so he came to our house and stopped coming before the final examination result. I do not know what he had in his mind, but I was promoted to the next class with a rank. I never got anybody to teach me English then, and to teach me Science and Mathematics, there was one who showed me the ways to improve my Mathematics and score good marks in Science.

A teacher would pick up my pen or something to explicate a transaction in Accountancy. His explanation was always extensive and would make a composition which I never liked especially when I was concerned about the syllabus for my examination. My friend who joined his tuition class after me was the first to quit, followed by me. I got another Accountancy teacher who did not get enough time to understand me.

My school did give me the best grammar book and dictionary which are still helping me to develop my English.

Sri Ramkrishna Mission Ashram

Sri Ramkrishna Mission Ashram at Asansol is located at Vivekananda Sarani (Kanyapur Link Road) in Burdwan district of West Bengal, India.

In the ashram, you get the blessings of Sri Ramkrishna, Sarada Devi and his devoted disciple Sri Vivekananda.

There is a dispensary visited by the specialist doctors who give treatment to patients.