The dilemma of being just average

Oh!!! NO!!!
Not again!!!
Sorry, I am not the best or the worst sir...
I am just average.

I am not the drunkard, I am not the sage...
I am just average.

Engineer I am, not that great...
Sorry, I am just average.

My dad is happy, so is my mom,
I've got a career handsome...
A beautiful and understanding wife not found by many,
An ideal life???
Alas! I am not finding it so funny....

I am not the drunkard, I am not the sage,
I am just average.

A writer by passion, a dreamer by notion,
Without the dimes in the pocket, a peaceful sleep at night,
I am just another average on the streets in motion.

"Behind the darkness cometh the light",
Says the oracles of might.
Alas! I just have an afternoon and night.

Sorry,
I am not a drunkard, I am not a sage,
I am just average.

(Soumyajit - The Pied Piper, on 26th February, 2012)

"আমার সোনার বাংলা
আমার সোনার বাংলা,
আমি তোমায় ভালবাসি|"
I guess Rabindranath has spoken of the Bengal that is in every Bengali's heart. Yes, the Bengal that this much honoured Bengali has spoken of is undivided politically, religiously and in spirit. If there has to be a political division, it must be done on the basis of only the aspirations of the people of the soil. Religion as a basis of seperation has always favoured a minority population with vested interests. I think no child of Bengal ever wanted a passport to visit his/her brother/sister. If we blame the British over the division of Bengal, then I guess it is time that we acknowledge our own mistake of not fulfilling the general aspiration of a common Bengali in 1971.

When we share the same language, the same clothing styles, the same food, the same culture and the same icons, why can't we have a Bengal sans passport? Who is one Manmohan Singh, Indira Gandhi, Mujibar, Sheikh Hasina or a Mamta Banerjee to decide the collective fate of all Bengalis?

Alas! human societies have always depended on a single person to take a decision or lead the way. Rabindranath, Nazrul and all the famous luminaries do not belong to Paschim Bangla or Bangladesh. They belong to Bengal or Bangla, which extends from the red soil clad Birbhum to the plains near Tripura and from the Himalayas near Darjeeling to the coast of Chittagong. We must be ashamed that even after 65 years of the departure of the British, we have not been able to unify ourselves enough to correct their mistakes. I will still wait for the day when we can sing in unison the famous two lines of Dr. Bhupen Hazarika: " Ganga amar ma, Padma amar ma"

The pleasant catastrophe

That's exactly the girl I am going to marry in the fading winter cold of February. Yes, so far, my parents have decided on February 3rd as the date... Every one who is invited must make their presence felt on that day and on 5th of February physically. Please bless us as a couple and wish that our love for each other remain like the morning dew on the lotus leaves, as fresh as ever...

Nainital....

A disclaimer

I am not a poet. The poem below is just a novice attempt to master the art. Critical comments are welcome.

I wanna be free

Look up at the sky,
A realization, ever so shy –
“We are minute.”
Do you know why?

Life is a dream,
So says the ad of a cream,
“Reality is nightmare.”
It make us scream?

Like the stars in the sky,
With the moon in the middle,
Like the rainbow in horizon,
With the kingfisher in the pond,
Like the zamindar poet in the balcony of his palace,
I wanna be free.
CAN U HEAR THEE???

Sorry.
Reality is nightmare,
So says the phil with graying hair.

The Pied Piper
(Soumyajit Sarker)
12th April, 2010

The city of a beautiful palace and one of India's oldest dams

" I touch God in my song
as the hill touches the far-away sea
with its waterfall.
The butterfly counts not months but moments,
and has time enough."

A very famous few lines by Rabindranath Tagore. While describing the heavenly architecture and structure of the famous Mysore Palace, I would have loved to have Tagore for company, had he been living in my age. The grandeur and beauty of the palace as presented by the panorama of Indo - European styles of architecture is to be seen through the eyes and felt through the heart. It certainly requires some great poets like Tagore to praise the royal show of beauty and taste in an age when India's wealth lied in its history and potential alone, just as he has praised mother nature in one of his several ode s through the beautiful honey like words. Praising the beauty of Mysore Palace is not the work of lesser mortals like us. Cameras are not allowed inside the palace today. That leaves our God's gift of memory and sensors called eyes to record the awesome spectacle that unfolded infront of us as we entered through the gates of the Magnum Opus of a bygone era. But the absence of camera probably unleashed our heart to enjoy the grand spectacle in the best possible way.
Apart from the beauty and grandeur of the palace, I will certainly remember Mysore Palace for making the immortals of the incognito and insignificant. The gallery of life like oil paintings of every facet of royal lifestyles and subjects along with the names of every individuals in the pictures from the erstwhile royal family of the Wadiyars who ruled Mysore to that of common men and women who worked for them, but are normally unnoticed deserves the utmost praise. It has done what is only ideally expected of all democracies, the importance that is due to common man. Ironically it was done under royal patronage.
I would love all the readers of my blog to visit Mysore Palace to enjoy the beauty through their own eyes instead of mine and endure the lust to stay in the palace the entire life.

If the Mysore palace is the crown of Mysore, then the royalty is incomplete without the royal logo - the Krishnaraj Sagar dam and the Brindavan gardens. Anybody who nears Mysore during the day for the first time by rail or road, would be surprised to see how green the agricultural fields are. A careful observation will reveal the presence of an exquisite and extravagant network of canals that carry the waters of Cauvery throughout the area. In an otherwise barren Karnataka, where people normally dig deep to find water, the greenery around Mysore will be a pleasant surprise. Arguably the oldest dam of India is responsible for this agricultural prosperity. Yes, I am speaking of the Krishnaraj Sagar Dam, designed by one of the greatest Civil Engineers of the time, Mr. Visveswaraiya. If the stupendous structure of the dam is not enough, then look behind to see the beautiful Brindavan Gardens downstream. The background scene for so many Bollywood and South Indian hits is feast for the eyes, as it soothes the eyes with the panorama of different hues and colours with its flowing water and gardens sporting fountains to interrupt your thoughts. Again I happen to miss the Maestro, our very own Rabindranath Tagore, to write an ode to the heavenly spectre that unfolded before our eyes. Watch the marvel of Krishnaraj Sagar dam and feed your eyes and lungs with the neat and beautiful Brindavan Gardens, as you still fight the desire to go back to the Mysore palace.
With tired bodies and memories of unmatched beauties,
Adieu Mysore
April 5th, 2010

Kites

Yawns

Don't yawn at the wrong place...

Cute, aren't they?

All enemies should be like them...

Make our Earth a bit more Green

Please do whatever you can for the environment if you wish to enjoy such beauties of nature again.