Solitude

Solitude

A chapter, it is

But in the book of life

Have I seen a book without?

I ponder much

And to conclude I decide

I haven’t.

Particularly characterized it is

And smell it has peculiar

Nothing lingers much

But it does

Hovers around, as though dark cloud

And shadow it casts

In it souls must dwell

For Once, Once Again

                                           For once, once again

In the vastness of sand it stood

Not many but a lonesome tree,

Its bark turned dark

And its leaves I long to be seen.

It’s the sun, it needs to be blamed

For it burned the bark

And the lively, lush green leaves.

But now it longs,

For nothing else,

But the heavenly shower

And for one time

The leaves must smile

And of course it dance

To the rhythm of wind

For one more time

Its branch must spread

And once again

A pair of birds must dwell.

The haven must listen

May not be for many times though

For the tree has aged

But for one more last time,

And just, one last time.

  

To Pen a Poem

A piece of cake it seemed

Not so long ago

A year before of the last

To pen a poem.

Just as I put my pen

The words flowed

Unstoppable

But today I see myself again,

The pen is stuck

And words forgotten

Just to write a word

It seems

Not lesser than work of Hercules. 

Jackfruit and Its Tale

Every Saturday morning I would start the car and wait for my mother to come with basket hung by her shoulder for Saturday used to be the vegetable-market day. It used to be just us most days but sometimes the lady house-owner or sometimes her daughter would wish to go to market with us.

The vegetable market in khuruthang, which otherwise remained deserted would be flooded with buyers and sellers agreeing to a price profitable to the vendors and absolutely cheap to the buyers. Only the upper-hand knows how a price of such equation was solved altogether.  

There in the market I had only a little work to do; walk along with my mother and carry in the basket whatever my mother decides to buy for she thought I had no knowledge or a very little knowledge over the selection of vegetables. How my mom selects goods from a heap is a big mystery that my aunt and I are yet to solve. It was once that we were selecting dried fishes from a heap and she picked one from the heap and said, “Pick one of this kind” and raised it in the air. The one she had picked and the ones in the heap looked all the same. My aunt and I would start fishing from the heap and my mom would say again, “Not those, this kind! This kind!” and it would same again.

It was on a certain Saturday market day that I found a huge jackfruit kept for sale. I haggled with the vendor to a comfortable price and paid him hastily before he could change his mind again. I think that day my mom realized, I could bargain quiet well.

As we reached home I watched my mom separating the blobs of eatable fibers from the fruit and I ate it hungrily that morning. One after another blob, I kept on eating.  I ate until I could barely move and just as I stood up after much struggle, my head felt dizzy and somewhere in a distant memory, a long time back, I heard my father telling me, eating a lot of jackfruit fiber-blobs makes a person sick for days. Needless to say I puked that morning and was sick with headache and nausea, precisely jackfruit-nausea, a semi-medical termed I coined that day.

My father often told me that it’s best to be moderate, “Extreme is dangerous.” He would say. I learned it that day; he had always been right.

Winter: Its Cold and Heavy Hands

Its winter and I believe winter is the most difficult time of the year.

For a student the beginning of winter marks with the writing of their exams. An exam, beyond doubt, is a curse. It tests a person’s ability within three ridiculous hours. And for these three hours one has to prepare for an entire year. How justified is it to judge a person’s ability within three hours of a year is beyond my comprehension and I suppose only god knows how.

But winter doesn’t only test the so called most intellectual animal in the planet who clears a thick forest, constructs sophisticated building there and in it discusses how to preserve forest, but also it tests the mother nature. Winter forces the trees to shed their leaves and slaps them with bitter and cold winds but the trees stands there, refusing to surrender and rather as spring unfolds, it starts growing and beautifies itself with lush green leaves and later with its bewitching flowers.

Of course winter hasn’t spared me this year and I am also being slapped by its cold hands but this year I find its hands much heavier and colder. This winter, miles and miles away from home, I am left all alone in a tiny room which is haunted by silence and nothing can be heard but the beats of my heart. These four walls stare at me as if to say I am not alone and the still fan hanging from the ceiling watches me in solitude with its intense eyes for he knows he has much work to do after winter sleeps for the year.

But my mind refuses to sleep and it drifts back to the times when summer was around and life was nothing but a cup of mere tea where it was easy to take a sip and gulp it down.

I have learned much from the nature and so I stay here waiting for winter to pass by and spring to come and warm my heart and soul for I have well known nothing gold can stay.

Mission Assang Barrage

The exams are over and so is the New Year’s excitement. Our department announced a month long vacation and students left for home hurriedly. Some reached home while some are on the way and others yet to move. The hostel is empty with just a handful of fellow hostel mates. The hostel is haunted now by the silence and tranquility.

Just the other day, a friend of mine who also decided not to go home suggested that we go to a place called Assang Barrage and since I had nothing else to do in hostel promptly agreed and set out for adventure with two other friends. Assan Barrage is located at 35kms from our hostel. It was an hour long journey by bus.

When we reached there we looked at each other and laughed for the place was more than what we had expected. It had a dam that stored and diverted water for irrigation. That place was a feast to eyes for it was a wonderful to walk around taking photos. Many beautiful birds dwelled there and the place looked beautiful. 

In action

Dear friend of mine- Misel Debbarma

Well I don't caption myself!

Thats Raju

All day we walked around taking pictures and admiring the beauty of the place until we realized it was time for us to leave.

We have now many places selected to explore in our month long holiday here, and the next place that we discussed to explore is the much talked hill station, Mussoori. Will update once the place is explored.