The evolution of a geological map…

The history of the earth and natural science was studied since times unknown, but the need for a geological map was felt when we wanted to predict the possible locations of the most valuable metals and minerals to be found on the earth’s crust. A German mining engineer named Georgius Agricola (1494-1555) wrote a book named “De re Metallica” in the year 1556, and he dedicated a chapter in the book to the valuable rocks found on the earth’s crust. He correlated the description with various hand-drawn figures with directions and thicknesses of various formations in the drawing.

The idea of a real map was born in the 18^th century British Kingdom by the naturalist Martin Lister. His idea was to represent the distribution of different soil types of the British landscape on a topographic map. “The Soil might either be colored, by a variety of Lines or Etchings; but the great care must be, very exactly to note upon the Map, where such and such Soils are bounded…Now if it were noted, how far these extended, and the limits of each Soil appeared on a Map, something more might be comprehended from the whole, and from every part, then I can possibly foresee, which would make such labor very well worth the pains.” However, he could not release a map based on his idea.

The next important step was taken in Italy by a military engineer named Count Luigi Ferdinando Marsili. He traveled to a part of Europe to create topographic maps for military use. He also observed and incorporated the landscapes, types of rocks, and other details with those maps. In the year 1726, he published his first map of the mining districts in Hungary.

With time the geological maps were evolved through the hands of Jean-Étienne Guettard who was famous for his detailed mineralogical and volcanological maps.  An anonymous cartographer of the German island Heligoland drew the first geological map and he added the boundaries between four different rock types Kreide (chalk), Muschelkalkstein (limestone), Bunter Sandstein (sandstone), and Kohle (coal beds). The map depicts the boundaries of the various geological formations even below the sea. As the author, also the intended use of this map is unknown. Geologist David. R. Oldroyd speculates that the map maybe could be used as an aid to navigation, as sailors could determine their position by evaluating the rocks and sediments dredged from the seafloor.

The map was produced by William Smith.

In the year 1816, William ‘Strata’ Smith published a map as “A delineation of the strata of England and Wales, with a part of Scotland; exhibiting collieries and mines the marshes and fenlands originally overflowed by the sea, and the varieties of soil according to the variations in the substrata, illustrated by the most descriptive names”. The map identified different rock types, but Smith classified the rocks according to their age and the way they were deposited in layers. William Smith was a surveyor and an engineer by profession His works were never acknowledged during his time. They were only acknowledged after his demise and he was given the title “The Father of English Geology”. The Geological Society says of 400 copies that were possibly produced, only 150 remain today. 

Happy Geologist Day to all my fellow geologists.

Flowing with the find…

Like a stream he flows-
Through the forest, between the fields-
Savouring the journey, as he swirls-
Dancing down the course, full of life.
The roots of which, were deep,
Reached down to the heart, maybe more-
To the bottomless abyss of his life.
The stream has flown through silver-scapes,
Through countless tides on the darkest nights,
To become a river, tranquilizing storms,
Harbouring love through stream of consciousness.

Picture from Incidental comics (https://www.facebook.com/incidentalcomics)

By the bank, as the sand posed to be of glittering silver,
Under the twilight of his long lashes with blithe quiver-
There was a hut, with red tiles on the tranquil roof
An abode built with happiness but distant a bit aloof,
Living a dream waiting for love and to be loved,
Reflecting the love in every drop of the stream,
Dispersing love, the way colourful flags;
Of the saint, disperse faith, fluttering in the wind.

The stream was like a dream, like a home,
As he wore every aroma, like an aura;
The fragrance was left incomplete without him,
Carrying as his own, as he ran with aurora.
Every curve, every scour brimmed him in life-
The red tiles counted every scar,
The raconteur sang the stories of the stream,
Little did he know he was known in stars.

The saga of the landscape glorified every dream
Like the twists, like the turns, she made it to the stream-
The walls held the tiles high, counting the silver-grains,
Surrounded by sunflowers, dripping to the golden gleam.

When the world stopped…

I have been here before, dreaming!
With unsure steps and weak at the knees.
Every moment, like an escape from the truth,
Far away from a vow; my heart aching for love!

The sky has blackened, the flags flutter in the wind viciously,
The ocean rises up-to the heaven and falls down to the hades-
While the wind carries the messages of the unknown land,
To the ears of someone who never heeds.

Many have forgotten the roads to the pool of ambrosia,
They rejoice and drink under the fountain of bane-
They uproar and clamour, distract me from my grail-
Never they think of the holy glow or dance under the rain.

I look out the window, as the palette changes every hour,
It takes me away to a dreamland where the moon
Shines bright red over a cloud as it holds the magnificent castle; Surrounded with white lilies as they bloom.

It calms me and strengthens me to gain my conscience back-
I haven’t heard when you called me, but I can feel
Your presence, as the dusk rolls and the bells ring
In the temples, with the lamps flickering by the river-reels.

The prince never rode a horse or had a sword-
But he believed and made everyone believe,
We grew together strong and happy under our sky
Behind our monsoon, as the red blooms and the leaves weave.

The piscator returns with his dinghy,
The evening breeze takes it all away, as the world rests
We heal, we grow amidst all, the infinite circle keeps on-
Rolling with time, nothing stops, retains life with zest.

159th Birth Anniversary of Rabindranath Tagore…

As we still are under lockdown conditions, the resources are still limited. But the auspicious day for the Bengalis, which is celebrated widely and unites two Banglas, is today. On this very day the noble laureate Rabindranath Tagore was born in the city of Kolkata. His creations are still very relatable to Bengalis as they hold a very rich linguistic meaning.

।। এক‌ অন্য-ছন্দে রবিযাপন ।।
রবীন্দ্রজয়ন্তীর (১৫৯তম) এই পূণ্য তিথিতে আমাদের শ্রদ্ধাজ্ঞাপন… তাঁর সৃষ্ট কিছু অসামান্য কালজয়ী চরিত্র নতুন ভাবে জীবন্ত হল আমাদের ক্যানভাসে…
•চোখের বালি: বিনোদিনী প্রতিভাত হল বিহারী (Sayan Mondal)বাবুর ভাবনায় …
•নষ্টনীড়: যুগের থেকে এগিয়ে এক অন্যরকম চিন্তাধারায় আধুনিক চারুলতার(Ankita Samanta) একাকীত্ব ফুটে উঠল…
•মানভঞ্জন: সমাজের চোখ রাঙানি কে উপেক্ষা করে জমিদার গৃহিণী গিরিবালার (Aritrika Saha) উত্তরণ হলো থিয়েটার অভিনেত্রীতে…
•মনিহারা: অলংকারের উন্মাদনায় মত্ত হল মনিমালা (Shomini Biswas)…
•এক ভিন্ন স্নেহের কাহিনী শোনালো (কাবুলিওয়ালা)(Dey Swarbhanu)…
•সমাপ্তি: বিবাহের নামে নারী স্বাধীনতার অকালমৃত্যুর বিরুদ্ধে তীব্র অসন্তোষ উগড়ে দিলো মুক্তবিহঙ্গী মৃন্ময়ী (Twameka Sen)…
•শেষের কবিতা: নারী-পুরুষের সমান অধিকারে বিশ্বাসী লাবণ্য( Dipanwita Bubun Sengupta) নত হলো না ভালোবাসার সামনে…
•মেঘলা দিনে কালো মেয়ে মেললো তার কালো হরিণ-চোখ (কৃষ্ণকলি আমি তারেই বলি) ( Utsab Mukherjee)…
•এক ছক ভাঙার গল্প শোনাল (তাসের দেশ)(Srinanda Ganguly ) …
•নৃত্যের ছন্দে মেতে উঠলো (চিত্রাঙ্গদা)( Gorima Dhar), স্নেহবলে যিনি মাতা বাহুবলে যিনি রাজা…
•কবির প্রতিকৃতি ফুটে উঠল Sritama Halder র ভাবনায়…
Video & audio editing: SAYAN MONDAL (ME)
Caption Courtesy: Sumita Saha,aritrika,sayan
Music courtesy: Ajoy Mitra (ESRAJ)
Thank you Sourav for the painting.
Some of the paintings are inspired.

Pretty Quarantine Things..

While the world is locked down and we are loosing our minds seating in our houses, we tried to create something maintaining every rule of lockdown. We did something which was really fun and we all enjoyed during this locked down time.

We known someday the clouds shall shift and new sun will come out with new light. Till then stay safe, create and help others to create beauty and let’s fight corona by staying connected virtually.

The Peerless Spring…

Little green grass were peeking through the soft snow-
The creek thawed and ran, all with flow.
The parrots danced with the song of the wind-
The orchids and bugenvilija lit the forest by fire glow.

For a change the wind rolled on the empty streets-
For a change flowers grew by the tiles on the pavements-
For a change the nature could be heard
For a change the colours, rather than wildfires, took the forests.

Yet again the twentieth year of the century has come-
With little colour of rage and claim his love,
They all came out on the empty streets-
Looking all around, to nurture us under their cosy cove.

For a change he was on the streets singing
For a change we were inside, under hiding-
For a change realisations were what we are a part of-
For a change there was enough time for reconciling.

The Peerless Spring

The six lane roads were deserted, the wings of the jets
Were quivering, the rails gasped as thousands were locked for days
The wailing noises conformed our presence,
The tension and the fear brought back the discerned ways.

For a change they were together-
For a change religion, colour were all in despair
For a change no one had school or attend the desk
For a change the family was in repair.

One who thought to be the supreme, held the stern
Was now surrounded by precariousness, even uncertain than the fern
Surrender and submit was only he could do-
And keep rolling the unfinished yarn.

For a change the trivial character was salient to all
For a change the break is now perpetual;
The sable will be replaced by the new bright-
For a change this illusion of stupor shall not stand tall.

Chaos…

I was walking through the forest; along with many others
The road wasn’t smooth, cragged and dented, isn’t like feathers-
Sailed through the mountains across the trees,
Looking for nothing but just to straighten out the crease-
The rainbow was there across the clouds, just beyond the slithers.

The sun was red, the wings were tired,
I was going home; with the shooting stars the background was fired-
The moon came up along with the darkness
As was the insignia of tranquillity and calmness
The ivy starts to climb up the chimney, keeping everything covered.

Walk through the silver veil of the moonlit night-
Reach before dawn, watch the sunrise above the clouds of thought;
As the dawn neared, the home seemed closer,
But just before the dawn the sky was blacker than ever.
The storm took pace and the veil was knot.

The Chaos is then felt when it clashes with the real.

The storm was never singular; neither was it unusual
The Chaos is then felt when it clashes with the real.
The view is blurred, the thoughts are tangled
The mind thinks of nothing but the path yet to be travelled-
Sudden was it all, until everything was a by the wall, from a sky of teal.

My boat is wrecked, the wings have no feather-
All I have is the strength and heart full of power;
Everyone  walking through the dark is holding on
The new sun will shine on us as the dark will forever be gone-
Time will heal, the sky will be blue again, leaving back the black and white on the golden hour.

Our Way of Love

I don’t want a day, a day of love for us;
I don’t want a moment, a moment, in which you look me in the eye-
And tell me that you Love.
I will look you in the eye and tell you I love you everyday,
Even when I am far from you, and you are going to bed miles away.

I don’t want you to kiss me on the fore head
To wake me up every morning.
I want you to be there for me, whenever my hand gets cold
I want you to be there for me when I feel so low and old-
And tell me that, “Oh! You are so bold!” and let me slay.

I don’t want a song to be our song
For the rest of our lives.
I will always sing a new song for you everytime a new leaf is on the branch
I will swim oceans for you if you need me facing an avalanche.
And I will be your support till I know you can do it on your own play.

I don’t want you to make love to me-
I don’t want time out of your table-
I want you to be there or make a gesture all above
That you acknowledge, that you care, that you Love.
Shed your veneer and let’s love and colour all what is left gray.

Happy 27^th Birthday Love

I Love you in your best and your worst.

-Your Love

On the Last day of the Decade..

The last sun of the decade with a dim red glow
With a dulled gleam painted the sky orange-
The smoke from the banks froze on the river water
Like a blanket, on the chilly cold eventide;
The moon was a silent spectator, as was early for the dusk,
Veiled desire of the unblinking eye , the crescent-
To be a part of the confluence.

The unfathomable notion of time
Renders the state of being and non-being.
Being in the universe actuates the ripple
Waving through the unknown of the infinite macrocosm
Uptill a state of non-being,
A state of complete nothingness.

Where the imagination takes a dip
In the bottomless ocean of vacuity-
The infinity ends to the advent of nothingness.
Like the circle of death and life
The circle of existence; the world circles around
The state of nothing to something-
The pendulum oscillates from zero to infinity,
Like a circle, like a wave, on an infinite line.

The river flows with time, like time,
With the flow all will meet to nothingness-
The confluence keeps us blest whilst
We meet by the banks of the river-
The crescent will be the witness without a blink
Under the canopy of thousand twinkling stars.

The year ended on a sad note for me. But I realised that is the circle of life. It keeps on going like the river flows perpetually. I hope the coming year brings a lot of joy and success and the circle of life goes on without a break. A very Happy New Year to all and you all may have a wonderful decade.

Warmth of Life..

Like the warmth of the teardrop rolling down
Down your cold red cheeks-
It is a part of your soul, a part of your breath,
A part of the ultimate energy creek.

It flows in a complete circle, but the circle is twisted a bit
As it flows through your life, like a magical miracle.

Like the first rays of the sun on your night-cold skin,
Like the breath on your shoulders, like the hand of the lover-

Like the little bird chirp in your ears,
Like the fragrance of the bloomed lavenders,
Like the slow gush of wind blowing your hair,
Like the sun reflecting the lush green from the leaf that flutters.

Made up of warmth, with life sprinkled on the lane-
The moments, the chances, fall around us like rain
Or like the snowflakes, or like confetti-
Wake up and grab them all, to gain the light of Cain.

More the colours you see, more you will live-
The soul paints rainbow overall,
From the very beginning to the last breath-
One life, one chance to live them all.

Darkness of the Lord..

“It cannot be seen, cannot be felt,
Cannot be heard, cannot be smelt,
It lies behind stars and under hills,
And empty holes it fills,
It comes first and follows after,
Ends life, kills laughter.”

J.R.R. Tolkien, The Hobbit, or There and Back Again

Darkness is an expression which was frowned upon since times unknown. It has been feared, hence avoided. Avoided talking about, avoided looking at, or thinking about it, even avoided acknowledging the very existence of it. In fact it is considered to be a taboo.

People with dark skin, people wearing dark clothes, or people with dark thoughts are not treated as humans till date on this 21^st century. People with darkness inside, fighting with depression are either thought to be irreparable or thought to be seeking attention. In an overly populated country like India depression is thought to be a social stigma.

But denying the very existence of it doesn’t make it inexistent.

The Beauty is in the contrast.

“And then Moses is cut off from both things seen and those who see and enters into the darkness of unknowing, a truly hidden darkness, according to which he shuts his eyes to all apprehensions that convey knowledge, for he has passed into a realm quite beyond any feeling or seeing.
Now, belonging wholly to that which is beyond all, and yet to nothing at all, and being neither himself, nor another, and united in his highest part in passivity with him who is completely unknowable, he knows by not knowing in a manner that transcends understanding.”

Andreopoulos, 2005, p. 199

Darkness absorbs all energy, in darkness everything is in equity. Whether it is black or white, fair or dull, real or unreal; everything is parallel in there. The cycle of parallelism runs in an infinite cycle with an infinite store of energy.

Every single flicker of light is born in complete darkness. Every bit of every thought is brought to light from sheer darkness.

In this ceaseless cycle of busy schedules a minute in the dark without any senses active makes the thoughts in our mind flow freely, clearing and untangling the toughest knots makes the flow uninterrupted. Darkness helps in healing, when the light shards feel too bright. In grief, in introspection darkness helps one to see clearly. It has got every answer which were invisible under the light that shone too bright.

 Apprehension comes from unknown reserves of darkness. One can never know what is there in the darkness unless he experiences it. The fear of the unknown has to be conquered for a better life. Light and darkness are two sides of a coin. The answer lies in contrast; without the other one is inexistent. From the unknown reserves of darkness to the sheer bright light, all belongs to the cycle of life.

In Love In the Dark…

The sky is pouring, the winds are whistling-
Amidst all I can speak to you.
Within the rumbling clouds the incessant rain pours down-
In the heat-stricken void; I will speak my heart out.

Those words will not reach else’s ears,
In this recluse desolate ambience.
No one but us, feeling the darkness together
The rain denies to cease, as it draws in reliance.

The universe, the society is futile-
So is the clamour of life, so relentless.
Drink the ambrosia with your eyes-
Feel the heartfelt desires, the rest fades in the darkness.

If I speak a word to you just to lighten my heavy heart
Whom will it hurt, will it cause loss to?
Amid the torrent, in the warm corner, if I share
Whom will I perturb, will cause harm to?

The wind blows in speed, the thunder flashes frequent.
The words shall speak themselves, in reform
Which were unspoken for life—
O’ lover, in this rainstorm.

Doshomi..

It was the last day of Durga Puja, he stood at the door
Holding the hands of his beautiful wife
From his pocket peeked his flight tickets-
The three day vacation to his family was over; dreaming rife.
The next day he would directly sit on his chair
Amidst the towering responsibilities;
The endless loop will begin again; the calls, the mails,
The signatures; even the day dreams will move to the extremities.
Once an activist, will get tired finding time to even read a poem-
The skyrocketing numbers of his possessions ensures
The future; but his dreams, his arts gets sold-
Coffined under the skyscrapers, responsibility wins defeating him without any cure.

Typical sky of autumn. place: Manigram station, India

It was the last day of Durga Puja, the boy was returning home
With big smile on his face and a light feathery heart.
His theatre scripts were a huge success this festive season,
His dreams were blooming under the moonlit art.
The same moon shines on the bronze batch
Framed on his yellow walls; the old retired man looks at it,
Shines it everyday, but never says a word, ‘cause he knows
His son wasn’t happy tarnishing his degree, as he was a misfit.
The waged jobs weren’t for him, as he couldn’t be caged-
As he was a free bird without an assurance to return,
The scripts, the characters, the stage, his imagination,
His art was all, but riches were dream that he could never stage.

Sunset with a tinge of fall. Place: Katwa, India

It was the last day of Durga Puja, your pandal was half torn down
You sat inside in the dark, like a right skewed histogram.
Next day you will have to reach the ninth floor desk
Amidst all your numbers, and the running data program.
I am here selecting and picking from a list of people
For the next step of my life, the spiralled pages
Of the thesis notebook scuffles in the northern winds-
From the pages of the Singbhum background to the pages of our story changes.
The soul, the work synchronizes in the cacophony of life
The oblivion precedes over a score and five-
Us with an orchestra, with cello in lead
The lucky are we that the soul still thrives.

Kolkata and you…

Amidst the salty breeze and the cold zephyr,
The returning sails from the harbour
And the flying bags of thousand letters-
There is a city, a home or a dream to nurture.
A city full of you, a city full of me-
With thousand dreams in eyes, with a lot to gather
In every pavement, every corner there sings a man-
The song of love, stroking the long white feather.
The blue lights, the innumerable placards
Remain silent, while the air around fills with love;
The yellow curtains in the purple window
Carries the wind, through the stars to the farthest cove.

The entrance of the Nimtita Rajbari.

The sip of chai with that bit of the earthy flavour-
Every blooming Chatim flower inebriates every us;
Tilottama dresses up with all she has, the colours, the refined scents,
The strands of fairy lights as if like a canopy of stars.
Here every clock runs a bit slow,
But every second extra here taken is to add an extra glow-
No one returns with a broken heart, every time it works out,
‘Cause it works on magic, like the river with a graceful flow.
The city won’t forget, the way you have loved-
The city will keep you all in her heart
Lit with her neon lights, and the towering heights-
All will be kept, all in the melancholy of the city’s art.

Act before it is too late..

When was the last time you saw a tap leaking on the side of the road and closed it? When was the last time you waited for complete darkness outside to switch on your house light? When was the last time you used the timer of your AC? When was the last time you refused a plastic bag in the shop?

We in this blog talk about essence of life, blue skies, yellow butterflies, violets and peace and tranquillity in them. What will we do when the sky isn’t blue anymore, when there will only be the skeletons of yellow butterflies and acid burnt violets to look at? And for this who is responsible? The answer to this question is well known to all of us. We all are aware that slowly we all are killing the beautiful planet.

The incidents taking place like the Amazon forest-fire, like the historic cold of the frozen Lake Michigan, the extreme heat in Australia, the slow melting of the polar ice caps, the overall rise of the mean sea level and the mean temperature of the earth, we all have heard about this, we all know it is happening. But do we act on that basis? Do we know how much is really happening?

Here are some pictures and some data for some idea.

Current carbon dioxide levels in atmosphere. Source: climate.nasa.gov

This is the image of 1980. This color-coded map shows a progression of changing global surface temperatures since 1884. Dark blue indicates areas cooler than average. Dark red indicates areas warmer than average.
Data source: NASA/GISS
Credit: NASA Scientific Visualization Studio

This is the image of 2018. This color-coded map shows a progression of changing global surface temperatures since 1884. Dark blue indicates areas cooler than average. Dark red indicates areas warmer than average.
Data source: NASA/GISS
Credit: NASA Scientific Visualization Studio

1. If we think air as a homogenous mixture of millions of little orbeze, then there are 412 more carbon dioxide orbeze in per million orbeze, when the normal number is near 200. CO₂ levels are highest in last 650,000 years.
2. The global temperature has risen almost a degree since 1880. 18 of the 19 warmest years have been recorded since 2001.
3. Almost 13% of the Arctic ice melts every decade. 413 Gigatonnes of ice sheets are melting every year.
4. With that MSL is rising 3.3mm per year. In that rate in 40 years Osaka (Japan), Alexandria (Egypt), Rio de Janerio (Brazil), Shanghai (China), Miami (US), Bangkok (Thailand), Dhaka (Bangladesh), London (England), Houston (Texas) and in India- Kolkata, Sundarbans, Bhubaneshwar, Cuttak, Ahmedabad, Mumbai, Goa, Chennai, Bengaluru, Kanyakumari, all these cities will be completely submerged under water.
5. The oceans have absorbed much of this increased heat, with the top 700 meters (about 2,300 feet) of ocean showing warming of more than 0.4 degrees Fahrenheit since 1969.
6. Glaciers are retreating almost everywhere around the world — including in the Alps, Himalayas, Andes, Rockies, Alaska and Africa.

This is the Arctic sea ice of 1980. This visualization shows the annual Arctic sea ice minimum since 1979. At the end of each summer, the sea ice cover reaches its minimum extent, leaving what is called the perennial ice cover. The area of the perennial ice has been steadily decreasing since the satellite record began in 1979.
Data source: Satellite observations.
Credit: NASA Scientific Visualization Studio

This is the Arctic sea ice of 2018. This visualization shows the annual Arctic sea ice minimum since 1979. At the end of each summer, the sea ice cover reaches its minimum extent, leaving what is called the perennial ice cover. The area of the perennial ice has been steadily decreasing since the satellite record began in 1979.
Data source: Satellite observations.
Credit: NASA Scientific Visualization Studio

This is the week of Global Climate Strike. It took a Swedish little girl named Greta Thunberg to point it out that we adults are ruining the planet; we are ruining the portion even for the next upcoming generations. We are the ones who created the mess and we should fix it. Some points we can follow to do our little bit to save our little planet:

1. Refuse plastics everytime.
2. Reuse the ones you anyway get.
3. Recycle them when they are non-reusable.
4. Use renewable resources of energy as much as possible.
5. Don’t waste water, food, energy.
6. Plant at least two trees a month.
7. Use Public Transport.
8. Try turning off engines at signals.
9. Try bathing in bucket water, avoiding showers.
10. Use the timer in AC.

This is the bare minimum we can contribute for our Planet.

Let’s build a beautiful planet for our great- grand children. Let Leila learn swimming in a real pond. We can fix this; let’s act before it is too late. Let’s build a greener world for a greener future.

Closure: A Vital Note…

Mental pain is less dramatic than physical pain, also it is more common and hard to bear. The frequent attempt of concealing mental pain increases the burden.

C. S. Lewis, The Problem of Pain.

Hangover is a very common word in the world with bullets and broken hearts. Hung over a past relationship or hung over a lost job or a lost closed one is a story of every grown-up. But the act of letting go and moving forward has become a lesser known act nowadays.
In a busy world where people are after earning more money and having a luxurious life every second, individuals seek and crave for emotional support; the scarcity of which is felt in everyone of them. The attachment to anything firm or seems to be firm grows stronger and individual starts depending on it; believes it to be his hold while in trouble. But sometimes things don’t work out and the attachment breaks, leaving the individual behind unstable and obnoxious.

The phase of hangover starts and a set back is experienced. The individual starts blaming himself and questions his life choices. Up-to this stage the manifestations are perfectly normal. One can develop with self- introspection with best results. Once the obsession grows beyond limits, the paranoia kicks in and grows with ultimate power. Mental health and social health gets jeopardized, creating a tensive state. Generally a psychology of revenge or vengeance grows, further turning into a violent stance. Social environment goes into a state of ultimate crisis with an ultimate event of madness.

A bond between souls is ancient; older than the planet.

A closure of the emotion and the attachment is what becomes necessary. Closure is the ultimate closing of an emotion. To overcome the pain and the weakness to achieve a state of calmness and contentment becomes a priority. The act of letting go helps to retain the stability of the individual as well as the society. Letting go and starting over must be the mantra of self contentment.

In another condition of losing someone close to the hands of death triggers the condition of holding back. The love for them, the practice of being around them gets so intense that individual finds it difficult to cope up with the sadness and finds himself into utter depression.
The realisation and the feeling of being around the soul can bring closure in such situations. To connect with the soul, to know the person through soul brings the necessary. The essence of being around one’s soul can never be taken away from someone.

Everything should have a closure. The more it is dear to you, the more you should prepare to live without it.

Clouds and You..

Where the day meets the ocean of the night
I find you everytime there on the confluence, flying the red kite.
There the black blends with the white in the play of shadows-
An exchange sustains with the ripples of the sun glows.
Within the unfathomable silence resonates a deep realisation
With the essence of which, the golden lining shines, devoid of obviation.
I crave to perceive you with my belittled gaze
But everytime I fail, I cannot see anything but haze-
I live with the daydream, with a hope to attain salvation,
But my tears make me frail with an endless cycle of delusion.

Feminism: a new word for a new world…

When the big ball of fire blew up releasing tonnes of energy into the void out of the entire solar system only one was lucky enough to get life. From then to the formation of the chromosomal variation everything was versatile and accommodating. The difference in the chromosomal level was the dawn of difference. The concept of gender and variation emerged. But it was until recently the variation was used to oppress one gender, hence the birth of a patriarchal society was witnessed. Women were oppressed in every other way it was possible. Two equal sets of chromosomes were treated differently by the world.
Women were taught and it was pushed to their deepest cores that it is the way everything should be. Women were to be kept inside and they had no rights.
The contrast was something unnatural. Being an individual living thing everyone had the equal rights. No gender, no religion, no other aspect should dictate anyone what to do and what not to.
As the herd of lioness hunts the lion does his job to protect the herd. Likewise for every other being there is a responsibility for the herd. No one except herself will decide what she will do.

Feminism is all about “YOU”.

“Feminism articulates political opposition to the subordination of women as women, whether that subordination is ascribed by law, imposed by social convention, or inflicted by individual men and women.  Feminism also offers alternatives to existing unequal relations of gender power, and these alternatives have formed the agenda for feminism movements”

Smith and Mink

Women and men are two parts of the human civilization none of which can be ignored. Women thriving, chanting the slogans against men in the name of feminism, must understand that feminism is not something about men; it is all about “YOU”. Stand for women who are oppressed, don’t oppress men in turn.
The chains your great grandmother used to wear are now loose. Break them and choose for yourself. You are equal; you are a part, your opinion matters as it of others matters the same way. Wear whatever you want, do whatever you like, say whatever you want. It is your life, live it your way.
Moreover if you know you are right, if anyone judges don’t care about it.

“In your world be a Diana”

anonymous

The Window…

A doctrine or myth which projects two stories at a time is a window. The stories are infinite as the energy, whilst the window is a breach in between two worlds with a probability of exchanging energy.

Windows often portray openness. A window is always pictured or depicted as open. The exchange is continuous and positive- as thought to be. But every coin has two sides; where there is light, there is darkness.

A window can either be closed or can be open. An open window can bring positive energy as well as the negative ones. It is the one, who is getting affected by the energy, should control the window.

The nature runs on balance. Where there is even the slightest imbalance, energy tries to flow through a window to recreate the equilibrium. If it fails to find a window catastrophe happens. Whereas if the windows are always open, the creation of special conditions under controlled environments as needed will never be possible. So the existence of a window induces the need of controlling it.

Controlling a window can lead to the perfect conditions with highest productivity. Thousands of pictures, situations, conditions, emotions, sentiments, expectations run through our mind every day, and our brain continuously tries to maintain the perfect environment to work. This is what we call is MENTAL PEACE. Some situations sometimes arise leading up to the imbalance of the perfect working situation and our mental peace is lost. Either we are angry or sad; our brain full of negative energy. At these situations one must analyse and hence try to pull back the equilibrium condition.

Firstly it should be analysed what actually destroyed the balance and hence how it could have been avoided. Knowing the root of the problem one can easily find a way to avoid it in further times. For the immediate problem, channelizing is necessary.

Considering our body as a system, our emotions and expressions are windows. It must be ensured that they are controlled by us and not the other way around. Dealing with rage and anger is a real tough challenge. When a root of imbalance is sprouted the possibilities of windows should be jotted down. Channelling the negative energy to a positive purpose is the motive.

Windows are the silent witnesses of two worlds synchronously. The  changes in colours, moods,  seasons, light are always experienced by the windows first. The flow and the equilibrium is infinite, the circle is infinite. Channelling is the key to the highest productivity rates.

To the Daves …

The colour of the rainbow           The sound of the waves-
The chirp of a sparrow                 The presence of the Dave.
Lose yourself to them                Than to the chaos.
The world is smooth enough      To paint it with crayons.
Reacquaint yourself                        With the world under your feet
Rearrange your field                     With all your own little fleet
Find love, find happiness                In the little things you embrace
Find yourself in the appreciation        Of life with all your grace.

Birthday..

The doll maker had to make twenty little dolls
But he just had one night to finish them all.
He laid them on the perch for the paint to dry,
At midnight the little fairy came, and saw one fly!
She showered him with some of her magical powers,
And put a dot on him as a mark to identify.
He came to the world like a little bundle of joy,
And won ‘em all with all his charm like a Froy.

The love he got, he shared the double-
To the people in need he was no less than a croy.
He did much and yet more was to fix-
It was a dream to him for years over a score and six.
Now he had a butterfly of his own
They share the dream and together will lay the bricks.
On this very day the butterfly promises to fulfill every dream ever
With every effort to take and all endeavor.

If it is a Necessity…

A theory exists that people who live on flat land prefer to business with jurisprudence. The word isn’t that fabricated I feel. When the land below one’s feet grows softer, he sheds off the habit of feeling and acknowledging hardships, languor becomes a habit, which ultimately becomes the reason for which they deny to think and ponder in their minds. Daily regularized orthodox beliefs become the soul stone for them. They try to use them as armors against new thoughts. They want everything under a system, and boycott any notions beyond the marked horizons. They answer all the questions in no time. Where there is no answer, they plot a story on it. Things which cannot be explained on the basis of this life, gets explained by the previous lives. Nothing is left unexplained. They fear facts, for which they explain everything with the spiritual world. To make people have faith on their solutions they have to be consistent. So as a permanent solution they have created a world with hell and heaven, with sins and virtue. It is true that truth is complete and flawless, but if it is a part of the truth then such parts together can become an imaginary fact, which has no assurance of being the truth.

“Necessity is the plea for every infringement of human freedom. It is the argument of tyrants; it is the creed of slaves.”

how much is your necessity?

These people love to be dependent, they cannot handle independence. They walk on the predefined path everyday for a predefined purpose for a predefined amount of time and then they become dependent again on someone else. If one in the system tries to peek a little more then he gets chained up in the bounds of the system.

Now the real question is what kind of rules should define them? And do we really want independence? We have heard that independence is a good thing. But every good thing is not a necessity.

Such less number of people in our country are literate that they cannot take up the entire liability of the entire state. Even before that what the majority really seeks is unknown to the literate. If my country is compared with other countries, the difference between our literate and illiterate men is sky scraping; the difference is like night and day. What is necessity to you might be a pain to someone. What one have, you might not be eligible for that. All these must be decided on the basis of sudden or instantaneous situation. Then a limit of thirst can be calculated and drawn. Otherwise whatever we see, we will want then on bare hands.

What is truth?

Oxford defines truth in two ways. One which is a fact can be called truth, and two which one is accepted as true is the truth.

“What we see not only depends on what we look at, but also from where we are looking at it”

“What we see not only depends on what we look at, but also from where we are looking at it”

We all see the sun. Every morning it comes up from the east and at the end of the day it sets to the west. But a man tells me that the sun rises in the west. Will it make my fact wrong? No, it is all about perspective. Maybe the place he is in, there the sun sets in the east. Maybe he is on his trip on Venus!

How do we know what we know is true?

Ancient Greek philosophers tried to ponder on the fact that what we know about ourselves is not the entire truth. There is always something left to know. We can never learn everything and absolute about something. Truth is unbounded but the initiation is from a point. While explaining we keep on putting words and stanzas and essays on it, and within all those robust words the truth disguises itself. It shows its multi-faceted nature to every other personality.

The way truth comes out completely depends on the person who is narrating and that profile is true for him. No one can take that truth away from the narrator.

Teal is blue to some while green to others.

The way nature turns its palette with the changing angles of the sun, the same way truth turns its faces with the changing personalities.

The way moonlight reflects on the pond water differs from the way it reflects on the water of the flowing river which again is different from the way it shines on the leaves of the cheddar tree. The moon light is not the one to change the tone, it is the receiver who makes the difference.

“It is not what you look that matters, it is what you see”

Earnest Hemingway.

Shades…

Are those fireworks, or the sky is bidding farewell
To the sun for the day?
Are those goodbyes, or just the night conceding the sun
Till it sets to the bay?
Are those colours, or the sculptures from the rainbow
Like the ones in your eyes?
Are they real, or am I dreaming in the day
And everything around are in guise?

Image: Sunset at Bangladesh border by the side of river Padma.

I have made the colour a part of me-
Or the hues match with your pavone mantle.
We blend together to new shade of blue
You the bleu and I the bleue- enough and ample.
I don’t know whether the colour will flow,
Or will fade with time into the gray;
If the orchestra stops with the setting sun-
I will always remember us this way.

Musical Space: The Summer Solstice.

Listen to song of the stars of the day,
And those of the midnight sun,
Hear them play the symphony of the summer-
Which reverb in every drop of streams in the run.
The sun has come with a forgiving heart
With all the other stars;
Bless us all with all you have got-
Oh Lord! Make everything at par.

Oh Lord! Make everything at par.

Never have I seen your face, or your feet-
Just have heard the grandeur you play;
It takes my heart in a different horizon,
Where everything is a blessing from Frey.
Fortunate I am for the peripheral existence I hold,
For the little many detail I can behold-
For every song I sing, for every sun I see-
I owe them all to serendipity.

Poem..

I waited for over a month now
For ideas to come in my head
Because I wanted to write a poem
A poem where my thought would have me lead.
A poem with deep thoughts-
Thoughts of love, eternal one maybe-
Or maybe describing a windy day
Gushing through the branches of the old oak tree.
Or maybe a silent night where the moon
And the nightingale had the best conversations.
Every single word uttered, gets echoed through
The blue forests to people who spoke Thracians.

But is really the name significant?

No, this is not a poem, though the name says so-
But is really the name significant?

There is a thief named Bhagwan in my neighbourhood
He steals milk from the farm.
Maybe the name Kanha would have suited him better,
Or maybe more specific, defining his dharm.
There is a guy named Proloy in my next building,
He sits on a wheelchair all day long
Cannot move a muscle on his own
Or maybe the real Proloy is yet unknown.
Complementing one another for every second
For the world everything is relative-
The whole circle achieves new shapes
When one finds another perspective.
There is no right, no wrong,
To the world everything is an event-
Live through and achieve the light
The light which can never be lent.

Real is beautiful..

The world is now after the unreal. The real is now hidden under a pile of unreal and illusory. The unreal is shown as the real now and the real is kept hidden. People feel secure and patient to think and keep themselves engrossed with the unreal.

“Scars have the strange power to remind us that our past is real.” 

Cormac McCarthy, All the Pretty Horses

With the changing environment and the complicacy being adapted by the human civilization the factual is getting harsh; but the real carries the facts, carries the truth. The speed of the world has increased many folds with the speeding bullet trains and super-fast internet speed. Even waiting for a minute for a metro or a second to open a page makes us impatient and the temper reaches new levels. But people are slowly forgetting the days where news would take atleast a day or two to reach the receiver. They pretermit the fact that it took ages to reach a letter to the town 50 miles away.

The history makes us what we are.

The world has gained speed and no fruit will come out of living in it. But ignoring and denying it can prove to be epidemic. The history makes us what we are. Respecting the past and being considerate about it makes us more contained.

In the world of full coverage makeups and photoshops an acne on a teenager girl is portrayed like an alien living on earth. The world follows and wants to be like the Kardashians than being like Jhulan Goswami, the fast bowler of Indian women cricket team, or Donna Strickland, the Nobel laureate. The flawlessness from within is not desired, or it is left much behind in the race with perfect photoshopped vogue girls. Getting up from bed is all about if you have had enough rest, that is enough to make you look beautiful, and that too in the eyes of your beloved ones. The whole world need not to know how someone wakes up and looks after having a good sleep. It is obvious that the hair will be messed up, the pores and pimples will be there on your skin, your eyes will look drowsy. But that will look beautiful in the eyes of your beloved. The real is more beautiful just because it is real.

“The real beauty is when you are centered, when our mind is with the truth..”

Sri Sri Ravi Shankar

The sky is still blue and so as the ocean.

In the world of entertainment and literature the fantasy is more practiced nowadays. With the world trying to invent a new way to conserve energy people get fantasised and entertained seeing people fight with bows and arrows. In the world of extreme level of world politics and cold wars people still get excited about dragons and Bigfoot.

No the world is not all about wars and politics. The wonderful experiences of eminent people are so inspiring, but a book of an autobiography is hard to find nowadays. Most of the books published and most of the series being aired are based on fantasy.

“I don’t think of all the misery but the beauty that still remains..”

Anne Frank

Is it such that people hiding behind the unreal to escape the reality? Is the world is too harsh to accept?

There is beautiful, there are flowers and butterflies still on earth. The sky is still blue and so as the ocean. The sun still sets with beautiful colours and it still rains down on earth and longs for the earthy smell. Feel the essence and enrich yourselves. The essence is not always perfect, but it is real.

“Real is beautiful and so are you..”

Expression to the soul..

Sometimes let’s just not talk
Sometimes – just let,
The feelings trickle down
To the very beneath of our souls.

The essence of each, let it blow,
Like a summer breeze, let it flood-
Like a moonlit night. Feel it.
Let’s not speak a word.
Let’s find peace, drowning in eyes
Our eyes; full of dreams.
“We loved with a love 
That was more than love”
But we love is much beyond 
What love is now, beautiful like a dawn!

Change is the only constant..

“It’s only after you’ve stepped outside your comfort zone that you begin to change, grow, and transform.” 

Roy T. Benette

Even the sun changes it’s colours thought the day..

Now as I have been going through a huge “change “in life, I have started accepting the new – keeping the old in my memories. This weekend I went to experience the new. Though I was being a little sceptical about it , yet it was a wholesome experience overall.

Describing the change will not be a good read for you all. So skipping the part leads us right to the essence of it. After all

“The essence of life isn’t just to survive, but to also introduce your life to a very meaningful positive purpose.”

Edmond Mbiaka

It made me sad when I tried to find the old riches in the new, it made me sad when I came to the fact that it needed much time to reach the enrichment. Again it made me happy to find out that the old riches are absent, it made me look for the new ones. It made me happier to comprehend that I can be a part of the enrichment.

My mother in the fruit orchard; a new thing..

The comparison always leads to the induction of negative energy within. Open the windows for the fresh wind to blow, stop trying to transform the present. Let the present be a past and give the new a chance with a unsullied mind. To find the new with utmost enthusiasm leads to an environment with giggles and laughter.

Getting too comfortable with a constant can be detrimental. Get comfortable with the change, as change is inevitable and is the only constant. Because

“If nothing ever changed, there would be no butterflies..”

Abstract..

Travelling the way, twice everyday

Took my thoughts and views away-

Abstractions come and go

“Abstractions come and go..”

Like the paper boats on the monsoon road

Like a pendulum to and fro.

Wished for a change

Then the Pegasus came-

With magic in his wings

To change every game.

And made the world orange!

The street, the sky, the tree,

My soul, my breath and every other glee-

Even in my eyes the orange would reflect

Notions flew everywhere around and all with magic-

Grabbed them all much I could collect.

Another soul..

Soul : a resemblance of another, Where the first rays of light

Cast the same on the little dew drops-

Together the waves break,                        The grasses swirl in the wind,

And the orchid matches the others-

I have searched and wandered               For the same for years,

For lifetimes I may say, but all at the end-

You felt like taking a sip                Of eternity, perpetuity of endless life-

The sun, the stars, the sky, was all there to lend.

I never knew what I wanted,                   Or what I wandered for

But I wanted my soul, another one, to keep;

To read the unknown chapters                To paint the imperceptible hues-

To escapade the adventure of life by a leap.

You were the known desire                       Even when you were unknown-

You were the chapter I didn’t know the words to-

You were like a fiction                               An untold fairy tale, with a hint

Of life which yet was to get true.

Some masqueraded to be you                   Some tried to inculcate me

With the thought of your inexistence;

But I knew you were there                        Out there somewhere, waiting

Just like I am, with all your persistence-

When I found you, I began                      To read the chapters of eternity

Of all the days of our esse-

I found the light to light up                     Our little synchrony

And I knew I was home to ingress.

Friendship is the other name of trust..

“Depth of friendship does not depend on length of acquaintance.”

Rabindranath Tagore

What is friendship? If we ask this to anyone the majority will count their answers with trust; “friends are people on whom we can trust”.

Trust is that with which a little girl jumps to her father, trust is that with which the little pup eats his first meal from a human after losing his mother to a road accident, trust is that with which the blind man holds a stranger’s hands to cross a road.

“All the world is made of faith, and trust, and pixie dust.” 

J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan

The little girl was new to the neighborhood. She was sad and afraid of the new. She was walking down the alley while she saw a little plant sprouting up from a crack on the road. She knew anyone could step on it and crush it. She guarded the plant till evening, but later she had to go home. The plant was calling out to her for help. Her heart was aching too to abandon the plant in such distress. Considering no other way she picked it up and ran for home. On the way she saw a little boy of just the age she was. He was standing there with teary eyes for some unknown reason. She decided to give him the plant and told him to take care of it. They went to the backyard together and planted the sapling with enough love. That day they both got a friend for life and the plant became the symbol of their friendship. They lived in the same alley for 23 years, their mothers became friends, and their fathers were colleagues. They might not have shared every secret or kept every promise, but they were beside each other every day, be it a day for joy or a day with clouds in their sky. The plant grew to be a tree like their friendship. On the last day in the alley they did not promise each other to be there, but they knew if anyone was there for them it would be the other one. With each other in their hearts left the alley to live the rest of their lives with trust in their heart.

The love that comes from friendship is the underlying facet of a happy life.

It was diwali and the bratty boys of the colony were being mean to a little puppy. It was his second week on earth and he was facing such cruelty. Shreya was watching them from the seventh floor balcony and was being impatient to help the poor pup. But her mother was being little strict for her and was trying to protect her from the bullies. Slowly the heat turned up and the fun of the boys crossed limits. They tied the little pup to the back of their bicycle and were trying to pull it through the road. Seeing that Shreya got infuriated and without listening to her mother she went down and rescued the puppy. The puppy even though was getting tortured by humans didn’t fail to understand the love and trusted her within seconds. Now the puppy has grown to be a handsome boy and is the guard of Shreya. They have grown a wonderful relationship of amity based on trust.

“The best way to find out if you can trust somebody is to trust them.” 

Ernest Hemingway

The world runs on trust, without it a day will become a century and friendship will have no foundation. Let’s build a world where a little child wont get afraid to take a toffee from a stranger, where a young woman will take a cab at night without thinking twice, where the old father will happily take the blindfold on knowing that for the cause of a surprise his son won’t abandon him in the park. Let’s create a world on the pillars of trust.

Era..

Parallel bars, girls running with braids 
Running errands, for the storm to chase –
Paper boats, crossing the drains,
Falling deep, if it goes in vain.
Mere realisations, strong views
Which bloomed all these years through-
Walls kept count of years passing by,
Of the girl who grew high in height.
In her heart – still blew the wind so subtle
Of her first ride on a bike, oh so gentle! 
Twenty two years of it,
How much it takes to be an ‘era’?
As it holds happy moments
And all the ones of the Riviera.
So much, you can never count
Countless memories of all the days down;
Here comes an end to all those days
Was it just a wave, or the brightest gem of the life crown?

Change..

When I was a little girl                  With braids hanging from sides

When colours were true         And there were no lies.

Slowly as I grew-                    Like a little plant sprout,

Father marked them all       As the walls kept the count.

Now turning into a woman-         Learned that some poems,

Don’t rhyme; some stories     Don’t have loud proems.

Learned that it is okay                  To shed tears, to be sad,

A coin has two sides              A good one and a bad.

All the pains and the struggles      I have had put ‘em all

In the past; learnt, experienced    And grew through the fall.

I will change more                The change is continuous

More i will grow           More the days pass.

Finale to home..

Finally it is happening, the day has come and the severance is in the scene. You were a huge part of this demure child since the last decade of the last century. In the early years, her first crawl, her first steps, all you have witnessed. You have taken care of the little child with profound softness and warmth and comfort more than mother’s womb.

You have taught the importance of pedalling a bike; that it does not run if the pedals are just hit. She shared the first ever chewing gum with you for teaching her that and getting a bump on her head after falling down from the tricycle. It was a long time ago!

You were the first one to see me wearing a saree. I remember it was a red saree and it was Saraswati puja. I went to school and came back with a bad rip.

My first step to the outside world was taken from you. You held my hand and fastened my seat belts for the journey of life. You were the one to keep me close through thick and thin. Whenever I couldn’t find anyone around I spoke to you, I shared my thoughts and my secrets with you. You were the one to read my every poem for the first time. I shared my friendship with you; I shared my love with you. Though you were silent throughout, but I know how much you had to say.

Every tour since Vishakhapattanam, I missed you the most. The days I was away from you I felt like you were thinning out in my grief. You glow and you take away all exhaustion and weariness away just the moment I look at you. Every little bit of you, like the cool summer evenings and the warm spring breeze, the smell of the rain and the black cloud of your Kalboishakhi is home to me.

At times I used to be so disappointed with you, but you know how much I loved you. Whenever I brought a new smell for you, you would be so happy. You would wear the smell for so long that people would think of you being some descendant of a flower.

There are countless numbers of these to say. Probably these are for which memories exist. You will no longer be there with us, will probably be with someone else. But never forget us, to us you were home, you will always be there with us in our memories. Stay well love, 23 years of it, an era is ending. Change is inevitable, let it come, you keep the flowers blooming.

The sound of the mountains..

And into the mountains 
I go to lose my mind 
And find my soul.
It tells me how trivial I am-
How insignificant, how tiny I really am.
When you walk through
The waterfalls, the blue butterflies 
Come flying and kiss your feet.
The cold tiny beads when touch your face
It takes everything far,
To a land where your mind cannot reach.
Realisation comes, that
The footprints you leave
Are the only thing that matters,
That the soul of you-
Is the only breach
Through which the nature breathes.
The river rolling deep down
Plays a certain rhythm, a certain sound-
Listen, and pay a homage-
To the grand orchestra of the mighty ones!
Run to the mountains-
Surrender to the great;
Have a glass of loyalty,
Breathe the air of faith.
Trust yourself, have the courage-
Swear to the positive;
‘Cause you are a part and you are the face.

The Meaning..

In today’s digital world people move faster than bullet trains. We want everything to be real quick; like super fast cars, super fast internet, and super fast delivery. We want everything to be done even before we can think about it. But in all this rush, to meet every deadline we miss out the essence of living it: The essence of living a life.

We have been presented with a life which we can live only once. Just stand for a moment and think!! When was the last time you realized that? Switching glances from arrival time to time now we forget to live the time in between.

Zindagi ki Johar in Urdu means The Essence of Life. I will try to capture the flavour of life and put it here. Me being a Geologist is truly dedicated to rocks, they are my friends. But I am an art enthusiast, an occasional thinker and a writer in trial.

Stay Tuned and Support to Live Life in a Better Way!!

A New Beginning..

The room was dark- not a single flare to be seen. I was standing there alone without any clue for 4 years now. I knew I had to do something. Courage and cowardice fought in the dark; I could just hear the noise. I knew- I had to do something. I had to choose to be a coward or a winner. It was right there after the dark, but I was afraid. Finally I gathered up enough confidence to step a step forward and I saw millions of fireflies lighting the way down to the end.

Today after a lot of intimidation and anticipation I finally managed to start my own blog. This was in my “To Do list” this year. I am happy and feel encouraged to be a part. To people who are thinking of starting a blog, do it, it is super easy.