Some pains never lie, You can taste them with your eyes, So honest and unshadowy, A fallen tulip, lying with its bare body, All soaked in rainwater, devastated, Waiting for a mighty breeze to carry it along, To it’s destined way of heaven. It’s longing to meet its highness And please her with its winsomeness , Solace her for the rejection of his fiancee, Though the tulips were tossed high with words of dismay and betrayal, One among the meanest knew the worth of his highness. She knew not the conspiracy but only love, Love that deserved to her highness and the sweetest of all.
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Stealth heart, rambling and bumbling the life within life, Constricting four walls, inward thoughts And the foray of self-introspection, Are these the rewards of quarantine hues? Like broken wings of Phoenix, caged and saged, devoid of the sublunary world, Room bereft of stark and colour, waiting for the gardens of russet and rays of hopes to bloom, Manning the art of living, stewing the life of tranquillity and peace.
Ganesh Chaturthi celebrated with fervent has ended with a curtain-raiser immersion. Though all the laudable celebrations were missing, a sense of gratitude in solidarity serving the environment is so appeasing. The magnitude of the environmental hazardous is minimized by contributing to organic celebration.
Biodegradable materials used in the making of Ganesh conglomerate to become earth to emerge once again as life, to be a cradle to seeds and saplings. How beautiful is it to see the holiness of spread around ?
Quarantine and lockdown have forced ourselves to navigate towards environment-friendly life, which is and will be a boon. So friends lets take an oath of protecting the nature by being gentle and nonpoisonous towards mother nature.
I would like to add one of my published poems on Environmental awareness.
I wish I could be a bird.
I wish I could be a bird, singing merrily and flying across the blue sea of whales, Don’t mind if my plight takes momentum, for the spectacular view of aquatic life, I can gaze the colourful marine life, Fishes, turtles, burgeoning water plants, Chasing one another and feeding the hunger parasitically, Suddenly my sight was obstructed by an unidentified objects ballooning the space in-between the aqueous solution. Awestruck, I plunged into the sea to have a sneak peek, Pecked it with my beak to find a sewage , How disastrous is this to have these unwanted guests to intoxicate the ocean, My vision was blurred and the path was misguided. Geeta.S.Upase.
It’s time to count your biggest bite of life. Is it a happy bite? Is it a piquant bite? Is it a traveller bite?
The interlude of life has bestowed to enumerate the moments we savoured. We hardly look back and count our blessings. The hustle and bustle of life never allowed us to. Or we hang on the future disregarding the past and present. Let’s celebrate the sweet moments of life. Travelling is my fondest passion and I can reminisce the experience at par. So many ecstatic instances woven into a beautiful memory lane. Some escapades are adventurous, some are idealistic and some are dreamy. The homogeneity of Land, river and sky though signifies the totality of the Universe, cultural aspect, versatility of cuisine and the scenic beauty alter the deviant worldliness of that place.
Travelling is a mobile education. You gain without strain. And we hardly sum up the education we had while travelling. It’s time to enumerate the things that gave us a vivid experience.
Do share your biggest bite of life friends.
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One of my best-loved books is ” Letters from a Father to his Daughter”. By Jawaharlal Nehru. It evokes a sense of gratitude and intimacy between a father and a daughter and the best advice a father can give.
Jawaharlal Nehru Ji wrote letters when he was in Missouri jail and his first letter was titled “Book of nature “.
In this letter he talks about the evolution of the Universe and covers a wide range of topics from language, tradition, history, geography, science and art. What’s amazing is his zeal of enthusiasm to compile the heap of knowledge and transport it to his daughter, in a making-of erudite personality. Confined between four walls yet his knowledge had wings of notes to fly high and educate his daughter.
The cardinal aspects of nature and life perturbed Indira to pursue her passion and find life beyond the mundane world. Nehru wrote letters for four years. And his teachings are not less than an institute. Though he was in prison he made sure his daughter was not devoid of fatherly teachings. He used to scribble minutes of experience studying stones, nature and stars at night.
Don’t you feel this so relatable in this pandemic spread, we all are imprisoned at our home Paradise, but we have so much to explore around and within us. And this acquired knowledge can be imparted to your loved ones and society at large.
Let’s create a space within a space of humanity, knowledge and life.
Thanks for the beautiful read friends. Your views and comments are much appreciated.
A sneak peek into the journey of writing, this could be I or you. Every artist has a beginning as a silver lining of his life. A ride of emotions, here it goes…
Should I sing C note for C chord?
I relish the day when the unbroken strings of rain embedded with glassy drops poured incessantly to enkindle feelings so high. As if an invitation from heaven to all the artists on earth, While I unchained myself to puddle in a pool of water.
A generous voice whispered to my father to play C chord , was my call back and I joined them for no reason.
Dadu ” Should I play C note for C chord? “
Rohit, ” you could play E 18 to E 25, depending on the notes of the song we shall decide.”
Dadu, ” The downpour and heavy raindrops are music to my soul, get me a chord of your choice I shall play it before the sun shadows the rain. ” babbled Rohit.
I was a silent observer of the dramatic concert. My brother took the plunge into the world of music. My Mumma joined us with her craving hot and piping pakoras.
As soon the concert ended I whispered to my Dadu, “Dadu can I ask you something?”
He was sure to add his portion of pakoras into my dish. I shouted and said ” Dadu, not this ” Astonishingly he gaped at me and said go ahead.
” Dadu, as we can tune to the notes and chords, is it possible to tune one’s heart to another’s heart? Do we have an instrument? I put it on innocently.
Dadu was baffled to hear me and was in deep thought. As soon as he got up from the chair he enclosed me in his arms and said, ” “Darling, as such there is no instrument to tune one’s heart but I shall give my “Pen” to you. Hope it will serve you in future.”
It’s was not the end but the beginning of an artist within me.
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I and my spice box, often chat while splattering Mustard and Jeera (Cumin seeds), that both are so intimate and well going. One goes after the other splatters in silence. Diffusion of aroma is enigmatic and intuitive.
I address them as love birds as both go hand in hand in each and every dish to make it delicious. They occupy special space as kept ardently in the corner of my spice box. But he often complaints about mustard’s naughty run. He couldn’t make more of its distortion.
Jeera with its medicinal and cooling character subsides after the mustard. Next to jeera is “haldi” golden-hued, sacred, medicinal and therapeutic spice. Its indulgence in every dish is of prime importance.
• Adjacent to haldi is ‘Hing'(Asafetida) also called as devil’s dung, stinking gum. It is derived from the root of ferula. I often remember my Granny applying it to newborn baby’s umbilical cord, mixing it with coconut oil if they had a complaint of stomach ache. And many times we used to gulp it with jaggery to avoid gastrointestinal problems since the lack of medical facilities. Hence ” hing” with its soothing property sinks in most of the Indian cuisines.
Chilly powder, dried, pulverized fruit of one or more variety of chilly pepper, sometimes in addition with other spices. It is used to add pungency and flavour to culinary dishes. Chilly powder, chilly flakes and many more to add reddish and flaky varieties. It puts your taste buds on fire and sometimes your tummy too. It can adore your spice box with its romantic red but with fire in it.
Jiffy entry of my children makes my spice box vulnerable as they tend to handle it carelessly. And he holds not to open. But cooking has become the only way is to spice your life in this pandemic spread.
Rotating the spice box I admire Cinnamon for its aromatic touch that relishes so many cuisines. Down I go to find Clove and Cardamom, Ajwain and many more. The richness of spices holds the tray with its Indian Pride to echo the condiment abundance and bounty.
As my spice box has become my companion in lockdown days I cherish the moments of togetherness to savour delicious food to my loved ones.
The sudden demise of actor Sushant Singh has crept into the hearts of many as thought-provoking seeking self-approval of his suicide. Why is it hard to accept death so unreasonable? It’s hard convincing ourselves the truth. A celebrity, fortuitous, triumphant and flourishing actor couldn’t have such a merciless death. What makes him indulge himself in such a cruel act of self-punishment? Mental scars are neither seen nor measurable but the depth stirs the soul. So being judgemental is not my stance. But the end is not the solution to every problem.
The human body and its anatomy is so complex and complicated and much more are the set of emotions adhered. But our body gives alarm to each every anti action performed to protest . How about the burl which indicates your blotted stomach, acidity or indigestion. And the same goes for the farting. Amazing manifestation when you are happy and your widened mouth with a joyous smile. Sagging face depicting your sorrow whenever you are sad. Blushing face when in love, Emotions are not emojis but manifestations of your body. Be true to yourself. Depression is one of the manifestation , don’t shy to open up. No man is perfect, live your life with the imperfections.
Mental health awareness. Less talked about and much experienced, touching each and every life now and then, mental health has become a serious disease to be discussed and solved by. Mental health awareness will definitely keep us on the bay. I would say, its an imperative call.
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( The views and statements expressed are personal and have no intention to hurt anybody)
I belong to earth, But my identity is not a brute creature, nor differential bird , I belong to the sky But I am not a space, cloud or rain I belong to fire But I am not a blaze, ash or smoke, I belong to water But I am not a flow, stream or stagnant, I belong to you But I am not a thrall or a helot I am a shrewd combination of body and soul to extricate mind. Your perplexed looks, so obvious, belongs to the trail of blood in you. Geeta.S.Upase.
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Stripping off my Gulmohar tree, a nefarious act of nature.
Take care of that nourishing hands, you may dismay the throttled thoughts of ingratitude in future.
We take granted of the relations, privileges and the provinces we have. And ones we are abandoned by any of them we start to reminisce the gratitude and condolences . Even the condolence ceremony where we express our heartfelt feelings and gratitude is in the absence of the person deserving. All that praises and love showered would have enlightened the deceased person’s life . But not all is said when alive,
Recently our Gulmohar tree was uprooted by the cyclonic effect leaving the space barren. So far we never felt its existence so relevant and revealing. We used to enjoy the shadow, sit merely under its firmament, capturing the blooms of spring, clicking the moments, all flashback rolled into memories. I wish I would have expressed my gratuitous feelings to the environment but then words had no ears. So I thought of planting another tree and a beginning of a new relationship.
Conversely, abandoned souls can’t be retrieved. So keep your gratuitous praises alive and shower on your loved ones.