Realisation after Death

Since the HTML do not have Bengali Script facility I am writing a Bengali Poem in English Script:

Uluddhani Khol ar Khanjani
KhatKhana Kaandhe Niye Drutobege Chute Gelo Char Jon Lok
Sange Gelo Kachi Kacha adhburo Lok
Balo Hari Haribol
Lashtaro Kaan Kaala Hoye Jete Paare
Emon Chitkaar Sune Ghaar Feratei
Baatashe Chitke Elo Ek mutho Khoi aar Khuchro Paisa
Eazer Nengti aar Nangtor Hutoputi
Aashte Prishte Dori Bandha Lashtar Nischinto Biswas
Emon Haarir Naam Emon Haarir Luth
Swargey to Jaboi.

Do we all endup in heaven like the deadman in the poetry believes?

Our Own Sistine Chappel

In this world of so much happening around every day many feel left out to the extent of becoming a recluse within themselves. And with passing of every day these people become more and more sensitive unless the state of reclusion is used for looking deeply inside themselves. Those who don't do the honest introspection run the risk of falling prey to their own sense of isolation.

It is important to realise that we as individuals are constantly exposed to myriads of responses both from within or without. They mould and shape continuously what is within us. We have our expectations and anxieties. And we have our fears. They could make us feel that nothing is finished and that the many years of our livesare just torn down miles of level ground with nothing worthwhile to show.

And this is our sistine chappel never finished and like Michaelangelo Buonarroti we end up saying to ourselves " If I was made for this from childhood given/ a prey for burning beauty to devour,/ I blame the mistress I was born to serve."

And that is the truth behind the colours of our very own Sistine Chapel. The mistress that we decide to serve in our reclusion decides what we make of ourselves.

Need to be Consumerist

We live in a time that promotes and provokes Consumerism not just as a Market ploy but more awafully as a way of life. The difference between the two is whereas in case of the first it would be a well placed marketing ploy to create and capture the target group and thereby get things sold, the other one is a more pervasive and slowly but definitely intrusive philosophy.

And we get induced to accept this philosophy slowly and unobtrusively in the begining and then get into the charm of being enthralled by it.The Media power slowlydoes this work and earns revenue. And the revenue is quite justified earning as they get billions of well provoked consumers who, many of them never really needing and yet ending up buying, first buy the concept and then the product or service and end up with need for more.

This is not to say that all that glitters in modern life is not precious. Onlyit is a sad experience with us that what we do not have becomes the driving force for getting many things that does not really work wonders for us.

Ultimately it is money in circulation or being putout of circulation is what is happening all around us that is leaving us with a vague sense of well being. Are we really well? Itis where the needfor a guru is stepping in. Alas another market is thriving.

Middle Age Blues

Only the other day I was talking to my wife about what our next Flat would be like and it seemed that she wants a one of those well manicured lawned bungalow in a community housing project on the edge of well groomed waterbody. And I knew exactly what she had in mind. It was nighttime and after our meals having our children - one brat of 10 years and the other a gawky and elegant teenager on the edge of becoming a lady - go to bed, this was our precious time for being Romantic. We both of us work.

So when she said a bungalow on the edge of water I knew it was vacation time for us. And so here we are on the seashore with lots of eagerness and energy to catch up with lost vibes of life.

Timeis so precious and we realize it only when it occassionaly makes us long for it's return. But alas Herodotus was so correct that we can never step in the same river twice, the water had already flowed.

So what do we do? Create Dams! And have power oops! sorry energy I mean. And its the energyofLove ofLifethat occassionallyso moves us that we become poets. And we write. Right?