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.



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.


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.



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..”



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.



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?



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.