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On the Dutch Dining Table


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A spoon, a fork and a knife; and a large chunk of chicken leg piece on the plate. And just besides that, a person utterly confused about what to do with the silverware. Never ever in his wildest of dreams had he imagined that one could use any of those to eat chicken. Why can’t I eat with with my bare hands? What’s more? A bowl of red chili powder on the table and the person not pouring it all into his food just for the sake of humility. Why? Because the person besides the table is an Indian (that’s me) and as per his standards that chili powder isn’t hot at all. Really… Believe me, I added 4-5 teaspoons of it in my food and the the taste didn’t change at all.

Enjoy!”, said the Dutch friend sitting opposite to me. “Enjoy!”, I reciprocated. “So, how do you say ‘Enjoy’ in…”, the Dutch paused and pondered for a couple of seconds and continued “’Enjoy!’ in INDIAN?”. I corrected, “You mean Hindi?”. “Oh ya… ya… in Hindi”, he smiled. This seemed to be a trivial question for my friend to ask but it was one of the most difficult questions ever asked. “Do we ever say such a thing in Hindi?”, I thought. But in a desperate search of answers gave it my best try, “Shuru kiya jaaye…”. “Shu-ru khi-yaa jhaa-ye?”. “Yup! That’s right”, I smiled. Now my Indian friends may suggest the possible better versions of the response, but you would have to admit; given the fraction of second I had, that was a good try.

I spent about two months in Netherlands and realised one thing for sure. If I ever get an opportunity to teach them something, I would definitely go for cooking. Whenever I added a ‘chhaunk’ to daal (pulses) in the kitchen out there it was the most amazing thing they had ever seen in life. The shrilling noise of the process and the aromatic fumes which which brings smiles to the faces of us Indians, brought tears in their eyes and concern on their faces. “That thing which you did there… Isn’t that hazardous?” “Nope! We do it all the time”. I tried to be convincing and reassuring but still the expressions on the faces could almost be heard out loud, “I am telling you dude! You will kill us someday.”

My visit to Netherlands made me realise one undeniable fact. We live in one of the most ‘complicated’ countries of the world… A large, weird, diverse, colourful, confused and complicated country. The look on the face of the people around you when come to know of the population of the cities… when they come to know that we have 18 official languages, hundreds of dialects and still no national language… when they come to know that it takes almost 3 days to cross the country… THAT expression on their faces makes us truly realise the great identity of the nation we live in… It gives you the true feeling of being an Indian… A feeling which we generally overlook.

I realised for the first time that we live in a ‘diamond’ shaped country. A country with the largest populations of followers of (at least) 5 different religions, with almost all possible geographical terrains and probably the most number of festivals. No surprises that we live in a diamond shaped country… No surprise we live in India.

P.S. –

1. The meal which I was talking about earlier… I took 2 hours to eat the meal. And then I realised the true meaning of the saying, “Apnaa haath Jagannath” 😛

2. I also realised how complicated our mythology is. An interested friend asked me to explain the gist of the story Bhagwad Gita… And I had a tough time explaining why we worship a man who persuaded his friend to go for war against his own kin. After all the gods are supposed to be peace loving. Isn’t it?

The Silent Spectator


Living in a sea of dust is an experience in itself. An experience which does not befriend many. And oddly enough the experience is not one that I hate. Living within 50 meters of three JCB’s (showing their extraordinary acrobatic skills), two construction cranes and hundreds of striking hammers is actually thrilling – to say the least. After all, who won’t inhale a ‘bit’ of dust for all the excitement?

Anyways… the fact of the matter is that at the moment, the sea of dust has calmed down. The JCB’s are resting cuddled up in the blanket of this dark night, and the hundred pairs of hands are in their dreamland, carving aspirations of their uncertain future. And I am staring at the top right corner of my laptop which shows 12:15 AM. So all of you those who are, or have been in hostels, a hearty good evening to them. The same goes for all the students in their late teens, inseperable lovers and other nocturnal beings. To the others, sorry for disturbing your midnight sleep.

And what am I actually doing in this sleepy world? Well, one of the most favorite tasks of mine – doing nothing. Really… absolutely nothing. And believe me, this is one of the busiest things in this world. To think nothing at all. Just observe. Be a silent spectator to this silent world which ironically is bubbling with chaos and commotion. Don’t believe me? Okay then…

Think of the security guard strolling around in the hostel. Eyes begging for sleep; mind cursing a moron whose constant stare doesn’t let his eyelids come closer. But is he desperate for a sleep? Nah… Proof? A boy does up to him and asks, “Ki dada? Kemon cholchhe?” (What’s up bro?) and there starts the conversation. Five minutes later, Indian politics becomes the hot topic on the table which a moment ago rested a dozing soul. That person is not really sleepy. He is starving. Starving for company… Battling against boredom in this chilly night.

Nights are subtle, shrewd, mysterious, lonely things. In its embrace lies only silence. But silence has a language of its own. It speaks. It speaks through fear – in the eyes of a girl trapped on a lonely road, trying to get back home. It speaks through tears – in the memory of a long lost love. It speaks through thoughts – in the focused vision of the visionary. It speaks through dreams – to achieve the un-achieved. It speaks through joy – of the ecstatic achievements of the day. It speaks through hopes – of a brighter tomorrow which we may just witness.

A night has a long silent story to tell. And you too can listen to it. All you have to do is be be silent and listen… All you have to be is the silent spectator.

Inspired by The Outsiders

Guest Post: And Fly Away To Touch The Sky!!


Please put your hands together to welcome one of my very special friends and the guest of the morning (or evening or any other time of the day :P) Neeli. I am really humbled that she agreed to write on the prompt I gave her. It is nothing but the magic of words which can transform a very ordinary looking phrase into a heart touching story. And this post truly vindicates the fact. I am honoured to have her as a guest.

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 “I’m not good in studies, I’m not good looking, I don’t have good friends, I cannot talk to anyone like my friends, ‘m not updated about world and technologies, people are more intelligent than me, nobody likes me, every single guy is ready to become boyfriend when I get a little friendly with him, my friends ask me to come out of self-confinement, I’m not good in making contacts with others, I have no confidence to talk to anyone…”, as she poured her heart out in one phone call, her elder sister could only listen in amazement. Not that her sister was unaware of her condition; she had already spoken and consoled this lil kid, but that day… patience had reached its limit and everything spilled out in front of her. Her sister was ashamed; she was dejected with her own self. Why couldn’t she speak to her own blood all these days? Busy consoling her own friends and others, how she forgot her own sister? Who was at fault? How could she ignore her own sister and leave her all alone?

While I’m struggling to find suitable words to define that beautiful soul, she must be in her sleep, wandering in her dream world! A girl with a cute smile, those beautiful eyes bearing the burden of half frame specs since quite some time, that mesmerizing voice, which barely reached its high pitch. A mind which is always indulged in chemical thought process!! She’s not the only child of her parents; she bears the wrath and love of her elder sister and manages to handle the naughtiness of a younger brother!! Her parents never discriminated between any of their children. Equality in terms of everything was given to all three of them. But a girl, who was a chatterbox during her childhood, turned into a silent girl with growing age. The most beautiful and pretty among all three kids, she grew with grace. As this silent girl grew up silently, nobody realized when she became a refined girl. For her family she was still that pretty little girl, with two ponies and kajal (kohl) in her beautiful eyes happily going to school. She is a very good cook who keeps experimenting new stuffs at home, possesses good drawing skills, has beautiful soft voice and looks great when you shower your love and pull her chubby cheeks. And when you find her doing something unusual and point it out… she’ll blush… and believe me that makes her look even more amazing!

It is said that only daughters can understand their parents and help them when it is not even anticipated from them. And she was not an exception. She helped her father financially when her elder sister was due for her MBA admission in a prestigious and expensive college. The university and course fees was too much for her father to pay at a stretch and that too at the moment when both of his daughters were supposed to go for their higher education. She was in a dilemma for her career options and when she finalized a course, she made all efforts come true to get admission in country’s most prestigious central university where the annual course fee was less than her sister’s three month’s pocket money. While her sister went off to pursue her career to a different city, she stayed in the prestigious university in her hometown.

Wheels of time turned and history repeated itself. This time it was her brother and she, who were supposed to go for their higher studies at the same time. As her brother went down to southern part of country, she was left alone with her mother… but this time the scenario was little different, her friends too had left the place and university and settled outside for higher education.

Loneliness started consuming her. She had no friends around to share her emotions; no one that she could look up to. And slowly loneliness turned into frustration. Witnessing her friends and own siblings going out and excelling were disturbing for her. And adding fuel to fire was her friends coming home during vacation and evoking anger and frustration in her with hollow descriptions of their life style and achievements outside. It worked like a slow poison for her and she started reacting to it in front of her parents by blaming them for not sending her out for studies and confining her in their shelter. The girl, who rarely used to get angry, started reacting to every single stuff. Hard times at both fronts- personal and career, made her go crazy, but she still kept her head above water. Every time she made efforts to move out or she spoke about it to her parents, something or other ruined her plans and she was left to cry alone. She wanted to go out and see world like her siblings and so-called friends. She craved to travel alone like her siblings and friends with confidence, to become demanded among friends, to be talk of the town in positive sense, to walk the ramp of life with full confidence, knowledge and grace. Declining self-confidence, lack of self-motivation, self-comparison with every tom-dick and harry and jealously started occupying her mind and body.

This true story is about my lil sister- T; who helped my dad in her own ways so that he can spend on my and my brother’s education. I’m obliged to her in every sense. She’s the best sister we could ever have. This little silent girl has many stories in her heart to which she doesn’t breathe a word to us. She keeps taking whatever life throws at her. I sometimes feel bad that she could not manage to go out for her studies or any other stuff. Blame it her destiny or my parents… it never happened. Yes, I do understand and try making T understand as well that just by going out for studies doesn’t make any big difference when you are getting best of education in your own city. But still… kids are kids. She wants to go out, witness new stuffs, people, explore life, learn new things, meet lots of people, be confident, present herself to world, shoo away stage fear, make good contacts… but somehow she’s failing to do all these.

touch_the_sky___jump_48_of_100_by_escaped_emotions-d4kpt62I tried my level best to listen her that day, consoled her but all in vain; she was totally disappointed, demotivated, no argument of mine helped heal her injured heart. I must say that she’s brave enough to tolerate this aloofness all these days. It’s time for her now to come out of her gloominess and see the life with new spectacles. She has to… and I’ve promised her as well as to myself that very soon she will be again that lovely, charming, confident girl once she used to be… I want my baby to grow and be bold… She already is, in her own way. She behaves very maturely in cases where I behave childish.

Anybody can fall in love with her. She’s the most beautiful and pretty among three of us… beautiful by personality, beautiful by heart! I really wish her to touch heights of success, to be very strong and successful in all spheres of life, to achieve whatever she wants to… I love both my kids T & D whom my parents have given me and I really want them to fly away to touch the sky…

May god bless them…

Love you T, D, Maa & Papa…

Neeli….

Through the Eyes of a Soldier of Science


Millions – if not billions – of eyes followed the spacecraft as it slowly disappeared to its distant mission to the red planet. It was the 5th of November when PSLV – C25 launched off carrying the completely indigenous ‘Mangalyan’ capsule on an year long voyage to mars. The ever faithful comrade of ISRO – the PSLV series of launch vehicles – successfully maintained its 100 percent success record. As the small capsule leaped forward into the space, India reiterated its presence in the scientific community by becoming the nation to launch a martian mission at one-tenth of the cost of an equivalent US mission.

And today, 60 days after the launch a humble traveler in the path of science introspects on the position of his country in the scientific arena. His country! A country too colourful; a country too diverse; the birthplace of the oldest religion of the world; a country that proudly shelters more than 18 languages; a country that boasts of its festivals and culture. He greets you from Bharat, Bharatvarsha, Aryavarta, Hindustan. He  greets you from India.

As a billion souls felt their chests broaden after the launch, a few eyebrows were also raised. The questions were not new; but they were relevant. The writer’s country is not only a country brimming with culture and diversity; it is also a country where more than one-fifth of stomachs sleep fighting hunger; its also a place where thousands of children find themselves in tea stalls and not schools; it’s also a country where hospitals are a luxury for some. And the question that was very evident after the mission was this –

Should a country of more than 400 million poverty stricken souls spend 73 million dollars (450 crore rupees) on a mission which may or may not yield a major breakthrough?

Well yes we have a large population under the poverty line. And it may seem to be a sheer muscle flexing act by India to send off a mission to mars and not divert the money to the upliftment of the poor. But is this expenditure really a waste? Well for one thing; out economy was growing at a fast pace when the western world was facing a global slowdown. So we do have money to sustain ourselves. Additionally, even if the mission does not provide something amazingly new, I guess it is an achievement in itself to launch such a cheap mission. This gives the outside world a faith in India’s technology. This attracts may other nations to trust India as a cheap and efficient client to launch their satellites and other space missions. This is one of the immediate returns of the investment.

On the broader perspective, this mission or any other scientific success has a much larger impact. To reduce the economic disparity of the nation, it is essential that the youth gets educated. The question arises why are they not getting educated? In today’s India, most of the citizens appreciate the importance of education. The problem arises because there are not many teachers in the country. Same goes for the health sector – there are hospitals, but doctors are nowhere to be found. And believe me it is these small success stories which create teachers and doctors. It is these scientific stories which inspire the children to take up science; pursue higher education, and be the future scientists, doctors, professors and teachers. So the investment in Mangalyan may seem to be a huge in the short term; but the long term returns of missions like these are things which cannot be simply measured in monetary terms.

At this moment I also feel a lot of responsibility on my soldiers. As a student of science in India, I realise that we as a nation have a long way to go before we come up to the front line of the scientific race. I also know the level of competition in the top-notch institutes of India. I have faced it . And I have survived. But now I feel there are millions of eyes staring at me in expectation. There are thousands who deserved to get through but couldn’t. There is something that really needs to be done. If India; a country of 1.2 billion has produces just 4 Nobel laureates (India born foreign citizens excluded); there is something seriously wrong. When 4 other India born foreign citizens receive the same prize; there is something to ponder about. Why did these people need to become foreign citizens before they could get the Nobel?

When someone addresses us as the cream of the cream (or crème de la crème) of Indian education system, it definitely fill us with pride. But more than pride, it fill us with a sense of responsibility. The cream of the cream should not fail. The cream of the cream cannot afford to fail.

It is said that C. V. Raman cried as he received the Nobel prize; as he was standing under the Union Jack as he got the prize. Although aspiring for a Nobel would be highly over-ambitious for me, I can guarantee the soul of Dr. Raman that if such a day comes, it would be an Indian standing under the Indian tricolour.

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Before I end this rather long speech of mine, I would like to make two announcements. Firstly, a friend of mine, Harshda Mangal has participated in a story writing competition. So you members of the Facebook community, please read the story and vote for it if you like. Here is the link. The voting lines close tomorrow. So please hurry up! Please use a PC or a laptop to vote as voting by mobile has some issues. (You might ask why didn’t I participate. Two reasons. One, I don’t have a Facebook account. And two, I don’t write stories).

Secondly, From tomorrow I am thinking of starting a series of daily posts on sharing of the quotes said by some of the brilliant people on the planet. I hope you would enjoy them.

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So I come again tomorrow. Till then,

Goodbye, Namaste, Nomoshkar, Sat-sri akal, Khuda Hafiz, Jai Sri Krishna.

And Bon Voyage to Mars Orbitor Mission (Mangalyan)


Off for exams with this wonderful thought and the music… Hope you like it… 🙂

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I honor the Place in You

In which the universe dwells

I honor the Place in You

Which is of Truth, of Light and of Peace…

When You are in that Place in You

And I am in that Place in Me,

We are One…

(If you can’t access the link and wish to hear the music, contact me)

Guest Post: Through the Clouds of Smoke


This post is written by one of my dearest, wittingly humourous friends Harshda Mangal who gratefully accepted to honour my blog with this post… So sit back… and enjoy….
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Well, this post is inspired by one of the friends who smokes badly… and when i say badly,I mean 4-5 packets daily and on that he says, “Well, take content that I and Shahrukh Khan have one thing in common…”
And here am I to share an incident that changed his life…
You may very well ask, how did he get into this habit… Well, nothing very special there…
He got this habit of smoking while occasionally smoking with friends at parties. Then, one day his girlfriend left him and he smoked in grief. Then, after two months, he got a new girlfriend and he smoked in joy. And now, the situation is, that
Bandi to aati jaati hai, cigarette hi sachchi saathi hai
So, I was telling about an incident. Ye apna hero has a very good image in front of all the teachers. And, its admitted that whatever ho do in his personal life, he is  very sincere in the academic front. So, one day, when he was busy making rings of smoke in boy’s washroom with his friends, one of the juniors came in search for him.
Junior: Sir, who is Shankar among you??
Rajan: Oye?? naya murga?? You came in first year na??
Junior: Yes Sir… Are you Shankar??
Rajan: Ille Shankar… tell me your name…
Junior: Sir… My name is Adarsh… Now will you please tell me who is Shankar??
Rajan: Abbe… Shankar ki kya pooja karega?? Don’t you understand that we are trying to rag you… chal naach ke dikha…
To everyone’s amazement, the junior danced on the latest item song, “Dil mera muft ka”…
Now, the seniors sensed some dead fish… So they put Shankar ahead; Shankar who had killed two cigarettes by this time…
Shankar: Ya… tell me… what is it??
Junior: “Sir, I would like to tell you that I am the son of Mr. Tripathi, Mr, Suresh Tripathi, The same person who is your mentor for your project. Since, I am new to this place, he asked me to meet you and get some tips on time management. He also asked me to take previous year notes from you… But now I think I would pass on it…And I don’t know if you know this… but he is really impressed with you.. maybe he doesn’t know about this habit of yours…
Now, How can Shankar, a fourth year student, take all this from a first year ( professor ka beta hoga apne ghar me hoga) So…
Shankar: See, you don’t have to blabber philosophies on me… This habit has never affected my academic life… so, you should not be bothered about it…
Junior: I am not Sir, But I think you should…
With these words he left the stinking place.
And after two days or so, Shankar was called by Mr. Tripathi and told that he would not be able to continue his guidance in the research project, because of some personal reasons…
Shankar: Why Sir?? Your son told anything?? See Sir, I don’t see any reason for you leaving me like this just because I smoke…
Sir: You smoke?? Really?? And what did my son had to tell me…
Shankar: So, you didn’t knew about it??
Sir: No, but now I do… I would not be able to continue as your mentor because of the sudden death of my elder brother.. I would have to go to hometown for 15-20 days… and by that time you have to complete the project…So, I am gonna ask some other professor to help you out..
Shankar: Oh, I am very sorry for your loss,Sir…
Sir: But, really ?? You smoke??
Shankar: Sometimes, Sir, very occasionally…
Saying this he didn’t waited for teacher’s reply or counter- question and came out of his room. He went straight to the washroom to light up another cigarette to ward off the stress… Wo kya hai na…
Padhai to bheje pe waar hai, sutta hi asli yaar hai…
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So… enjoyed the humour? (Definitely you did… otherwise you won’t be reading this post till the very end…).
Visit her blog for a larger dose of humour of similar kind. And if you visit in time, you could also get a chance to win a bag full of prizes, before Christmas…

Men Not Allowed


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Troubles always come in groups… huge groups. And troubles have a special affection for your dear author. And the beloved troublemaker of all times… The laptop… (For glimpses of the trouble-making refer this followed by this). So one fine day pretty close to exam time; when my laptop entered the yearly phase of trouble-making (this time it was motherboard which had passed away); I had no other option but to bunk my classes on a weekday and give the service center a visit.  And after gloomily handing over my beloved laptop in the center; and having ‘something’ to eat from the roadsides of Kolkata, I decided to return back to the hostels. And this is precisely where the fun begins…

I look at my watch which says 5:30 PM and rush to the metro station… And I saw exactly what was expected – A sea of people… No literally… Combine the following facts together – End of the office time; a country of 1.2 billions; a city of over 4 millions and the cheapest metro of the world. What else would you expect? So waiting for the metro amidst the crowd you realise how insignificant you are and how large is the world. 😛 And as soon as the train arrives, the fiercest of the races starts – the race to a vacant seat. Being extremely well versed in the art, I kicked a person ahead of me, punched another who was trying to get ahead and gloriously sat on the seat which I had won. But as fate always has it moments of glory were limited. A couple of moments elapsed and I realised the mistake – the above the seat, proudly announced, “WOMEN ONLY”. And so did the eyes of a lady standing just in front of me. I cursed my luck and the race which I lost after winning and humbly left the seat.

After the metro, came the train, where luckily seats are not reserved for women (certain compartments are). But there too, neither my luck nor the fairer gender spared me. After successfully establishing myself on a hard earned seat, I thought I could relax an have a nap. So with A.R. Rehman plugged in my ears, I peacefully dozed off. But for long… a (gentle)man wakes me up. I realise that a lady is sitting next to me and the (gentle)man sat besides her. “Don’t sleep!  Sit properly!”, said he. I analysed the situation… dress extremely traditional, age- 40 to 50, man and lady sitting side by side – Conclusion: They were a couple. And the problem was that in sleep there was a slight possibility that by mistake I touched her wife. I mean… what the hell… If you have problem with sitting besides a young ‘potentially dangerous’ man, why don’t you exchange your seat with your husband? Why disturb the sleep (which is the most dear thing to a student) of a person who is now forced to keep his eyelids open, staring at nothing for the 2 hour journey?

And finally the bus… For the half an hour journey, I deliberately chose a bus which was scheduled to depart an hour later (as it was be empty) so that I could securely get a seat and ‘relax’.  No use… Slowly as people poured into the bus, I could see millions of standing souls. And… despite 50 per cent seat reservation… a few of the souls were ladies. Unfortunately one of those souls stood besides my seat. And being a young blooded gentleman, I forgot all my sleep and left the seat for her… so that the atrocities of the violently rocking bus (yup… it was on Indian roads) are born by these tired legs…

In short that day (as many other  days) made me realise that we are the most unfortunate group in India. Caste reservation eats up half of the seats in the competitive exams for any ‘general’ candidate. As a ‘young’ citizen you are supposed to be responsible and sympathetic. And as a guy, you must be considerate towards women – even though they receive reservations in buses and trains; they pay atleast half of the fee we pay in any exam, preferential treatment in scholarship and so on…

But… Ladies! Beware! Every gender has its day (or set of days)… There would be a day when train compartments would announce “Women Not Allowed”

Vijayadashami… Festival, Mythology and Musings


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With her divine presence spread throughout, she fades away to nothingness… Only to return once again

 

Days of celebrations are over as the days of wait begin. A-midst the rhythmic  beats of the drum we bid adieu to mother with her promise to return again next year.

 

And in these moments where tears awkwardly merge into joy, the mind switches to the thinking mode and tries to look beyond the stories… and asks, “What is the essence of the celebration?”. For those who are unaware of the story, here is what the Hindu mythology has to say about the festival (in brief)…

 

Once upon a time, there was a demon or ‘asura’ named Mahishasura (The demon who could change into buffalo) who aspired to capture the all the worlds and rule them via unjust means. To accomplish his task, Mahishasura meditated and pleased Lord Brahma (the creator). As a boon he got the assurance that he won’t be killed by a man. Overjoyed with the boon, he fights and conquers the heavens and the earth. Commotion is created across the universe. On seeing this dangerous situation, the supreme gods: Brahma the creator, Vishnu the preserver and Shiva the destroyer combine all their powers to give rise to Durga, a female warrior. She is depicted with 10 arms, adorned with numerous weapons gifted by various gods. The creation of Durga is marked by Mahalaya (the first day of the 10 day festival). Subsequently after 10 days of fierce battle, Durga kills Mahishasura and perishes his army. The 10th day is celebrated as the day of victory called Vijayadashami.

 

Overall, it is the same old story of victory of good over evil, but the subtleties are worth pondering upon. One of the highlighting features of the story is the depiction of woman in her powerful, ruthless form. The same woman who is seen as peaceful, loving and caring in motherly forms like Parvati, Saraswati or Ganga is depicted in a devastating form here. So if time arises, women can perform acts of courage and bravery which are even beyond the reach of men.

Some other points that catch my attention include the meditation and boon of Mahishasura. The creator gave the boon to Mahishasur knowing its potential misuse in future. This in my viewpoint shows the concept that regardless of who you are, efforts always yield the fruits. Anyone who is dedicated to his work, gets his reward – be it a saint or a demon.

There is also a point of unification of powers. Durga was created by the combined powers of the trinity. To me it signifies the importance and necessity of unity of good to combat evil.

It may be very well possible that there was never any Mahishasur or Durga in the real world. But this story would always be a source of motivation and inspiration to millions. The story, which may seem rudimentary at first glance has simple yet deep interpretations hidden within…

Anyways, this festival has much more to do with culture than religion. This is an excuse for thorough cleaning of the household; new clothes; fabulous food; creativity in designing of idol, pandals, rhythms and… overall the environment. There has to be a something in this grand festival that so many eyes await her arrival, so many hearts celebrate her stay, and so many eyes moisten as she departs… There has be a reason so many poets write in her praise and so many musicians sing in her awe.

Shubho Bijaya to all… Celebrate the victory… Spread the joy 🙂

Looking Back in the Flow of Time


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Well this post marks the approximate anniversary of my blog (1 year and 15 days to be precise). And as on this day I look back in time, I have to admit, it has been a long time… I remember the day when I wrote the first post “The Mound of the Dead“, I had no idea that this blog will last so long. All I had in mind was a set of posts on the then recent Gujarat tour that one of my friends Subhradeep and myself had just completed. Thanks to his superb camera and brilliant photography skills I was able to add some gibberish of my own and bring out a ‘something’.

I was convinced that that blog won’t live for long. Reasons… Firstly I had no idea what to write… and secondly I had no idea that a physics student can write something which the ‘general people’ could read. No seriously… sometimes we ourselves are amused by the amount of ‘Dirac Deltas’, ‘Considers’, ‘If…then…else’ that have entered into our colloquial conversations. So I was convinced that writing was not my cup of tea.

That was a day… And this is another day. I never thought that I would make ‘friends’ with people across the globe. (And yes, my friends are jealous about it). Now wordpress has become more of a coffee house to me unknown people meet and become so close to heart that their problems seem to be our own. I can’t help but name some of the most amazing people I met in this virtual world. These will surely remain one of my dearest friends even beyond the blog…

Dietlind Wagner… The first one to comment on the blog and an amazing artist who lives in her wonderful little world of puppets.

White Pearl… My first friend from our neighbour from from the west ;). Amazing, cute, wonderful yet confused personality and a brilliant writer. She claim to be as worthless as a grain of sand, but names herself ‘White Pearl’. See I told you… confused personality. (Sorry Sister :P)

Maria Imran… Amazing writer, amazing poet and amazing artist. Currently appointed as my Urdu teacher ;).

Mekala Rodrigo… Brilliant photographer and my travel guide (in future)…

Sharmishtha Basu… With her short poems which go straight to the core of the heart.

And the list could continue but the clock is ticking past. And I have to rush to catch a bus.

The journey till now has been great
What about the future? We have to wait…

Thank you my readers for being with me and thank you WordPress for letting me me meet these amazing people friends.

Sharodiya Shubhechha (Autumnal Greetings) to all of you… 🙂

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