To Santa

Santa, art thou dead?

Thy bleeding body has drenched thy dress

And made it red…

Oh Santa, why do I see morose on thy face?

Thy withered beard and sunken cheeks,

Hollow bones and haggard frame,

Steals my vision from love to hate!

The hanging pack on your back,

Carries Skulls and bones of mass,

Warning us of the happening strife

And the doom that impends us;

Pervading our race into a

Big Black Ball, with hues withering away

And darkness descends all…

Oh Santa, how cruel are we!

To run a dagger through your attire,

Ripping apart thy seraphic charm,

Maiming thy ethereal value,

Blighting thy blithe soul

And fettering thy perky mind…

Turning thou into a defunct puppet.

Santa thou are dead,

The red glow of thy blood stained dress

Marks the deeds of our race.

Thou dwell among the realm of evil,

Dark, dull and drab.

Thou deceased piece of earth,

No longer stands for celebration,

But only mourning and mourning and mourning….

Face Cover

In the night of my Life,

The firmament of which remains clouded from

The glimmer of hope and happiness…

You came as a Masked Angel,

Bringing felicity, gaiety and ecstasy,

Filling the void with momentary bliss,

That elevated me to another realm of euphoric existence;

The dulcet symphonies floated in the air,

Poured into my ears, with a note of false promise,

Illusive affirmation and delusive commitment,

That this insane soul failed to recognize…

The teeming exhilaration enthralled me,

And put me under the hypnotic spell

Of the Angel’s beauty and bond.

It extorted from me the last drop of love

From my heart. I emptied myself till the lees,

And resided within you.

But as I removed the false face cover,

I realized the deception, experienced the betrayal,

Recognized the guile and duplicity…

The zephyr at once lost its former grace,

And turned dismal and despondent;

And soon the former darkness descended

Upon me once again, renewing vigour and strength…

For I emptied myself for thy cause,

Having no love left to love myself…

You came as an evanescent bright,

In this dark forest of my existence;

Leaving the ever unresolved question:

Shall I Love you for bringing fugitive happiness;

Or Hate you for making me sink in this fathomless ocean of gloom?

Moment

Was this the day I longed for?

The dormant desires mine winked

From the brink of my mind,

And barged forth with all might and potency…

Sweet though haunting, they rolled round

Within the walls of my heart.

Tempted my vulgar instincts and set them on fire…

The fiery mind of mine, wrapped the other entity

Close to my bosom, soon to feel a similar reciprocation.

The entwined mind and body of ours, rolled their

Strength and sweetness up into one ball.

The sensuous smell of the body, paved its way

Through my nostrils, up to the core of my existence

And restored my to revelry and charm;

Took me to another realm of euphoric existence, where

Felicity and Gaiety dwells for ever…

The warmth of thy being far surpasses the pleasant

Clime of the tropics, and my juvenile heart flies to

Your dwelling with a note of approval, with a note of assurance;

And with a note of plea…

That I shall be there, in all hazards of existence and shall wait eternally

For another such moment, with more vigour, more passion

And more sublimity…

Assurance

My glance or thought,

Fixed at your presence;

Do not I recognize…

Thy sweet thought, thy enticing hue,

The enthralling beauty of thy shrine

Lures me towards thee.

The bodies, now entwined wish not

To asunder. But will soon.

Parting ways is decreed and destined,

Which I wish and like not, yet welcome,

For the tempestuous love winds, emanating

From thy heart, keeps my barge floating and moving.

The souls now eternally entwined, shall

Renew energy and strength in its transcendental joy,

And a time, where everlasting joy and security shall pervade

And encompass all the uncertainties and despondency

Of mortal Fear…

I wonder at the thought, when

Thy lease with my life culminates!

Oh what a day will it turn out to be,

Even at this hour, when thy presence

Is profound in my life, I can feel;

The forlorn gloom, melancholic days

Dipped in the tears of thy thought,

Sails in front of my eyes. . .

The visions that I can see, will come

And with one blow take away all

the happiness and pleasure that

I enjoy in thy company…

This paradisal existence, in thy presence,

Would soon turn into a barren nightmare,

And the veil of gloom shall strangulate me

From within…

Your departure would be arduous to encounter,

But thou shall not stop!

Thou shall move on, for in thy happiness lies mine.

The sweet memories will linger in my memories,

The touch of yours I shall bore on my body,

And through these would obtain occasional glimpses

Of yours. Thou has made me gleeful, elevated my position,

I bless thee, bestow all my good wishes on thee,

That would keep you away from deuce interventions…

Move on! Move on! Stop not!

A day of Hypocrisy...

It’s time again for us to show our full fledged hypocrisy, by playing patriotic songs in the entire morning and then wearing colourful dresses in the evening, visiting shopping malls, parks or restaurants. Yes, I am talking about 15^th August. This is the way every year we show our reverence for our country. Today I am compelled to write this article, as I think there is no other way I can express my contempt and wrath regarding this. I also participate in this occasion, but refuse to celebrate, as I find the entire thing very meaningless. Standing at this crucial juncture, when the very existence of democracy is threatened, the country is sinking deep into the problems of inflation, poverty, superstitions, gender bias, political turmoil, terrorism, communalism, corruption, unemployment and so on, I see no reason to feel that we are INDEPENDENT; no reason to celebrate this day either.

I raise a question: Is this the kind of nation, that Mahatma Gandhi wanted to build? Is this the country for which Subhas Chandra Bose sacrificed his self? Is this the same India which Tagore dreamt of making? This questions will forever be left unanswered, but will keep on haunting the minds of the people; at least some, if not all. A country, which once produced politicians like Mahatma Gandhi and Subhas Chandra Bose, is now in dearth of a Leader, who can guide it through the hazards of existence. The ideals that were set on 15^th August, 1947 are long lost now and things have largely remained on paper. The dream of Gandhiji, that India shall be a country, where there shall be no room for communal violence and corruption, is now in tatters. The system of democracy is challenged and distorted in certain parts of the country, almost leading to a fascist form of government. This has become a nation, where the government forcefully takes away land from poor peasants, at the cost of their lives. People do not hesitate to slaughter his fellow beings. The very foundation of our system is rotten: education, politics, bureaucracy, health, employment; each and every field is filled with rampant corruption and widespread politics. The misuse of power has reached its nadir in the recent years.

I am sure this is not a time for us to rejoice, as we are not INDEPENDENT; we are in fetters, the fetters of foul politics. Our liberty and freedom have been carefully crushed and perished to the grounds….. This is not the nation, which was desired by Gandhi, Nehru and Tagore. We are to make it a better place… how??? Very simple, just remember the famous saying of Gandhi- “Be the Change that you wish to see…”

Muse?

Art thou my muse?

Art thou my inspirer?

With the very thought of yours

My pen runs with a unique vigour,

Oozing out liquid music, mixed

With the sorrows and joys of my heart.

Thy thought brings upon me certain

Poetic spirit, not to be found otherwise,

And turns me into a lunatic,

Blessing me with the divine ability to

Perceive things differently.

The veil of dullness and monotony

Is silently removed by the touch of

Your magic wand, which brings

Spring rains of rejuvenation

And embalms my parched soul,

Returning the former mirth and joy.

But this momentary bliss soon

Gets lost in a dark cavern of emptiness,

Where fear and gloom dwells, conspire

To taunt me with myriad pains.

But I keep firm, letting the torment hide

Within me, not letting them realize

And wait for that divine inspiration and thought

That fills the firmament of my mind

With vibrant colours of hope and exhilaration,

And in that ecstasy, forget all the agony,

Successfully encountering life’s tyranny…

I present this as an Orison to you,

The sole You and only You,

Who has raged a tempest of Love winds

In my heart. The tumultuous waves of thy presence

Coerces my fragile heart to sink into thy thoughts.

Such is thy might! I stare and adore,

With every touch of thee, my soul returns to that pristine state,

From which it ripened.

Thy enchanted fingers delicately remove

The clouds of depression, that blots the light

Emanating from my heart.

The light that helps me to recognise you.

Thy presence fills my mind with a divine fragrance,

The aroma of which reinvigorates my soul,

Reinstalls in me a sturdy aspiration to Live.

Every encounter with you seems to be a novel action.

The vision and voice of yours generates amorous

Instinct in my mind and attracts myself

To the cornerstone of thy heart.

Oh What stuff are you made of?

Who has created thee?

Is it He who has created this ignoble soul?

Filled thee with all the aura of His!

Letting happiness to some and misery to others…

Thy demeanor raises you to the nadir of his mansion,

With all that thou desire, splendid and fulfilled.

And I, another performance of His,

Trudge my way through the thorn scattered path,

Delicately designed by Him,

To test my might, to note my endurance!

Serve Him I must, for he is the sole

But pray to thee, who art my whole.

My heart shall garner strength from thee,

Thy presence to provide my might.

Thy smell to refill this vessel and thy touch

To embalm my sorrows.

Take this as my Orison, not to Him but thee,

My sole pleasure is to wait and watch

The path where your shadow falls to offer

Momentary bliss, bring fragmented rest in my life…

Leave me not, stay with me,

This is my Orison to thee…

To Someone Special

I submit myself to thy feet

Request you to delve inside my heart, and

Get to know my feelings for you.

Oh! How I long to get the touch of your hand,

Get the smell of your flesh,

How I long to get embraced by you…

Each time you come near me

A forlorn pleasure engulfs my heart.

A brooding sadness puts its veil over my soul.

My incessant stare slowly empties my emotions

Until the lees, and leaves me vacant. . .

Silently waiting for you to refill me,

With your delicate fragrance, that seductive smile

The dainty gestures and divine beauty.

Oh! I shall sit, I shall wait eternally,

Until thou recognise my motives,

Recognise the pristine splendour of my feelings…

No more PLEASE...

Not once more… I do not have the courage to encounter it once again. Rather I should say that I do not have the strength to bear all that pain, which I got with every such encounter. The jovial beginning always ends up in a pathetic manner, leaving me in a vacuum, not allowing me to breathe life once again. This momentary bliss will soon dissolve, and will end up sucking my soul, leaving me an empty vessel once again. But oh, how could I resist the temptation? Each time it comes with a novel intention… may be I am wrong this time, but who knows? I am not ready to take another blow… it would not be possible for me to take it anymore! The pain hiding my pain is unbearable. It chokes me from within… nobody is there to share this thought of mine. This eternal emptying will gradually lead to the final emptying, and I quietly wait for that. I must say that I am brave and competent enough to hide my pains with the all time smile of mine. May be I will survive through this encounter also! Another blow, emptiness, another punishment… all I have to take up once again. Helpless I am, for I can not escape this. Now I am used to pains rather than gains… I do not seek for consolations anymore, rather I wait for that FINAL HOUR to come, slowly and silently, when I can rest myself on the bosom of that eternal being, who has moulded this piece of earth.

Natural Desire

The sky prepares to sleep,

The flock of birds sail to their abode,

The huge leaves of the coconut

Sways its head with the gentle

Rhythm of the breeze

As the holy maid brings forth

Her hidden talent before her Master.

I sat by the sight and the eerie

Phase of transition,

And the pleasant touch of your magic wand

Sets my long ebbed soul on fire.

A sudden voice, echoing through the vales,

Sky and lakes, enter my ear

With the secret order of yours.

The sweet smell of thy being,

The melodious tune of thy call, creates

Tumult in my mind,

To break the fetters, free myself

And be the one with you.

Tribute to the Bengal Bard: kobi pronam

Hey nuton, dekha dik aar bar..... Whenever 25 baisakh comes, this song echoes in my mind and soul and rejuvenates me from within. This day is considered to be an auspicious one, for on this day was born Tagore, whom words fail to describe- to me the most perfect man born yet in the whole world. He is the image of God, incarnation of Him, for his poetry, literature, lyric, thought, echoes His voice. I have not seen God, I have not heard his voice, but I have had the chance of coming across his literature, poetry of God himself. I consider myself fortunate enough to be born as a Bengali, for I had the chance to read Tagore, get the essence of his philosophy and humanism. I am really astonished by the fact that Britain rewarded Tagore with the Noble prize after reading one of his books- Gitanjali, So what would they do if they read Tagore as a whole? Well it remains an unresolved mystery.

Tagore's multifaceted talent made him a towering figure in the whole world: a poet, a novelist, an educationist, a social reformer, a painter, a musician, a philosopher, dramatist, a patriot, a linguist, a political scientist. It seems that no adjectives are left to define this genius. Every aspect of human life has been minutely captured by Tagore in his woks. Whenever I feel despondent and depressed, I always turn to Tagore's poems, and his magical hands uplift the veil of gloom from my mind and refills it with a positive vibe. The only man whom I consider as my Gurudev, my guide, my mentor, as he always guides me through the hazards of this material existence. The poet has eternally emptied himself in his literature.

This year marks his 150th birth anniversary. Whole of Kolkata is in a strange vigour to celebrate his birthday. But standing at this point a question always probes my mind- how much did we take from Tagore? How much did we inherit or learn from his ideas, his thoughts and his philosophy? We all celebrate and sing on the day of Rabindra Jayanti but most of us fail to secure the message that Tagore wanted to convey- the message of humanism, fellow feeling, brotherhood and love. My earnest request to all my countrymen and friends- let us not merely play the songs of Tagore, or enact his drama on stage, but let us embrace his principles, his message and his philosophy. The day we can do so, we will be able to turn our country into an utopian world. A HEARTY SALUTE TO THE GREATEST MAN BORN TILL DATE. TOMARE JANAI KOBI PRONAM......

Savior

No more utterance from me,

If this be thou will

Then I shall not bring out forth,

Your gifted voice.

For I do not possess me, neither

I am my own. . .

O it is You who has moulded this piece

Of ignoble soul,

Ran your gentle fingers upon my

Benumbed mind with a certain euphony,

That made it agile, turned it jocund.

Thou art the sole begetter

Of this piece of earth.

Whenever a sudden forlornness engulfs

This very cite of yours,

Thou has not failed to overflow this fragile vessel

With the sweet nectar of your tears,

and refurbish my soul to revelry and charm.

Thou has been my incessant ally

In all realms of my existence,

With your immutable love and concern.

I am blessed, for I have had the magic touch

Of your divine hands,

I have unraveled the secrets of your sacred depth,

I am accomplished, I am full

For I have experienced your Wrath and Love,

Seen you as benign and malign. . .

Nothing is left for me to discover.

If today thou Wish to keep me silent,

I do not speak, I remain tongue tied;

For if I don't that would never satiate me,

That would torment me till the brink of my life.

Oh how can I disobey you, thou aide of mine,

Thou has not taught me so, for I am

Your image, thy reflection.

I am all set to experience you as Whole,

Be a part of your habitat.

Come! Come to me, just as before

And take me with you,

Make me you.....

Borsho Boron

Its time to bid farewell to 1416. The people of bengal are all ready with their new clothes, greetings, sweets and rosogollas, to warmly welcome 1417. POILA BAISAKH ! This day is very popular among the bengalis, all over the world. It marks the beginning of a new year. Kolkata wakes up from the slumber, and a festive mood engulfs the entire city. People come out in their best attire, and try to make their day special in their own respective way. The restaurants and hotels are all filled on this particular occasion. The hangout spots of kolkata overflow with people, especially the malls, millennium park, ganga ghat, nicco park, science city, and other places. This is a day of enjoyment for kids and adults, all alike.

What I like specially about Poila Baisakh, is that, on this very day, people uplift their apparel of western culture and embrace traditionalism. They try to reveal their "Bangaliana" culture as far as possible. Instead to wearing casuals and jeans, people turn to kurta-pyajama, sarees and other traditional outfits. They exchange sweets among neighbours and relatives, as a mark of their love and bonding. Young seek the blessings of their elders. On a whole, Kolkata on this very day turns into a repository of traditional values. People harp on to various mouthwatering dishes, from Daab Chingri to Misti Doi, Bhetky Paturi to Rosogolla.

Its the time to forget our past sorrows and unhappiness, and time to welcome the new year with joy and passion. Subho NoBoborsho to EVERYONE!!!!

Relocating the Renaissance in Rowling’s "Harry Potter"

Ever since the publication of Harry Potter and the philosopher’s stone in 1997, Rowling's books are being subjected to a lot of speculations, controversies and criticisms. But it is to her credit and literary merit that Harry Potter books are the best sellers today and perhaps the most popular child fiction. Rowling chooses to write upon the conventional theme of children's literature- the battle between good and evil, and the ultimate triumph of good overcoming all adverse situations of life, but in an unconventional way. The world of fantasy on which the story is being built upon has been minutely designed by Rowling, by drawing upon references from ancient Greek and Roman myths, and the Renaissance traditions. Incorporating the work of several 15th and 16th century thinkers, the seven part series examines important ethical topics such as the desire for infinite knowledge, the effects of prejudice, and the responsibility that comes with power. Unlike other works of fantasy, Harry Potter contains graver subjects, under a thinly veiled guise of a child's fiction, and has its roots in renaissance magic, science and medicine. It has thus transcended the boundaries of ‘Child Fiction’ and is being widely read today by children and adults alike.

From the very inception of the story, Rowling harps onto the various elements of renaissance beliefs. Book I deals with Harry and Lord Voldemort’s quest for the Philosopher’s Stone, which supposedly turns all metals into Gold and produces an elixir for eternal life. The philosopher’s stone concept is an old one and dates back to the 14^th and 15^th century. Rowling even incorporates the character of Nicholas Flamel in the story, who is a renaissance sceptic, scholar and scribe, and who supposedly the creator of this magical stone.

Lord Voldemort, the antagonist of the series, is projected by Rowling as a renaissance overreacher, who launches on a quest for infinite knowledge and eternal life, but brings about his own damnation, just as Marlowe’s character ‘Dr. Faustus’. Like Faustus, Voldemort’s chief character flaw is that he wants limits of knowledge and life to be expanded beyond what is reasonable. In Rowling’s words, he has “pushed the boundaries of magic farther than they had ever before”. The author portrays him as a meritorious student that Hogwarts has ever seen. Voldemort’s pathetic childhood may arouse sympathy in us, but unlike Faustus, he cannot be recognized as a tragic hero, as the ‘hero’ tag is generally being associated with Potter. In this regard, Voldemort can also be compared to Milton’s ‘Satan’, who inspite of possessing enormous skills and qualities, indulge in mean and diabolic act, and experiences a fall from grace as an acclaimed scholar to a depraved personality. Just as Satan went against his authority, God, aiming to secure the throne of heaven; Voldemort also revolts against the ministry of magic, with the aim of becoming the sole dictator of the wizarding world, facing the similar kind of doom that Satan faced. Over the twelve books of Paradise lost, Milton paints the gradual deflation and degradation of Satan- from the brightest archangel ‘Lucifer’ to a ‘serpent’ in book XII, who is made to ‘crawl on his belly’. Voldemort also changes throughout the books- first being a handsome and perfect man, then slowly and gradually becoming more like a serpent as his soul gets fragmented. In Milton’s manner Rowling traces the degradation of Voldemort, from a brilliant young pupil, Tom Riddle, to a perilous dark wizard, Lord Voldemort. The ‘death eaters’ in the poem are portrayed in the manner of the ‘fallen angels’- they are duped by the false logic of Voldemort and continues to suffer in a similar manner. Therefore, it is evident that Rowling borrows a great deal from renaissance writers like Christopher Marlowe and John Milton, for creating the character of Lord Voldemort, who is an excellent blend of Faustian and Satanic attributes. Rowling ends the novel in the manner of Marlowe, with a note of warning for its audience- “…perhaps those who are best suited to power are those who never sought for it…” This echoes Marlowe’s chorus, where he says-

“Cut is the branch that might have grown full
straight,
And burned is Apollo's laurel bough,
That sometime grew within this learned man.
Faustus is gone. Regard his hellish fall,
Whose fiendful fortune may exhort the wise
Only to wonder at unlawful things,
Whose deepness doth entice such forward wits,
To practise more than heavenly power permits."

Just as Rowling portrayed the character of Lord Voldemort as a renaissance sceptic and overreacher, she built the character of Harry Potter as an ethical, responsible, and pragmatic individual, in the light of Heinrich Cornelius Agrippa von Nettesheim, a noted 16^th century occulist, alchemist, physician, and magician. Like Agrippa, Harry believes that only those with respect for nature could successfully control it and that those who used magic for selfish or immoral reasons would risk their very souls.

Throughout the seven books, Rowling introduces various renaissance elements in the story. As Latin was the chief language for all official purposes during the renaissance, most of the spells and charms used by the students of Hogwarts are Latin words. Even the motto of Hogwarts is in Latin: “Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus”(Never tickle a sleeping dragon). It is therefore quite evident that Rowling was deeply influenced by the renaissance writers, and was inspired by the trends and traits of the age. She freely borrowed ideas and concepts from eminent writers like Marlowe and Shakespeare, though she also revealed her own imagination and literary craftsmanship by creating different creatures and beasts of fantasy, and by lending a tinge of reality into the lives of these characters, which enables the readers to relate themselves with them. Her successful blend of magic with emotion and love is something, which is unique, and has not been dealt before by any author. It is thus something more than a mere fantasy tale, which is although designed for children, but is universally read today as a popular text.

Nemesis

With every vision of thee, fills my heart

With an unnamed wrath, meaningless acrimony. . .

Hard is my desire to forgive thee, but Oh!

Do you deserve to be forgiven?

No, I know, it should not be,

For you are not a brigand, you are no con.

But who knows, only I know,

That you are an unpardonable felon. . .

The most dreadful sinner yet born;

Yet the veil of your guilelessness

keeps you ensconced from all.

None reckons your treacherous volition,

Of breaching one's amour, one's emotion.

The sole I has learned of you, and so will

All. For heaven hides nothing from its views,

The Wrath incurred by Him, will be showered,

and wipe away that veil of obligingness

That hides the evil shrine of yours.

And then i will smile at thee, just as you do now . . .

And Say Justice is a powerful thing,

Which comes to all, and comes to thee,

Just as it came to me.

I never thought it would come!
I never dreamt it would happen,
You were the pillar of my life,
The cornerstone of my soul.
On you, rested I, my fatigued heart
Trusted you, leaned on you…
Your departure has weakened my
The base of my life, has blinded me
Of all the radiant and vibrant
Colours of joy and mirth.
Now I am a sorrowful wanderer
Veiled under the apparel of gay smile,
Hiding the torments,
Letting people not know, the
Acidic pain, that corrodes my heart;
With each day passing,
And pushing me towards the final
Phase of a loonatic emptiness.

I do not pray you, or bend before you,
For I haven’t learnt… to sue or pray.
But my heart will surely carry the
Everlasting gloom, brought by you.
Never will you know,
Never will people know,
For I keep on hiding, the eternal
Agony and the anguish
And will put up the brave smile
As usual, As ever, For ever….

Do Crows Smile ?

A thought just struck me today and i felt it necessary to pen it down. I was minutely observing a crow, and to my utter surprise, I saw that it has BEARD on its chin!!! It was indeed very ludicrous, and I tried to compare its habits with us, and thought that they never need to SHAVE!!! Moreover what I explored next is even more astonishing. The crow's face was really puckered, and it was looking around with thwarting eyes. I never saw a crow smiling! and I am quite sure that I am not an exception. Whenever I see a crow, I always feel that there is a note of annoyance and vexation on its face. Why dear? What problems do you all face? Can't I ever see you happy and gleeful? Atleast other animals show their happiness, either by wagging their tails, or by making weird sounds. By this particular creature has a mundane expression all throughout their life, throughout their generation. Not only that, Crows are like the goons of the locality... anything unusual or abnormal, for instance, an Owl or a monkey, and hoards of crow will hover over their heads, and will drive you mad. Why take so much of necessary headache? These poor creatures will not come to harm your babies...
I just hope I see them smile someday, and see them jovial, and satiated with their lives...Really, amazing bird these CROWS are....

The festival of Hue

Its once again time for us to celebrate the pious festival of colours, and rejuvenate our mirth and joy. Holi is a festival of hues, originated primarily in Mathura, supposedly by Sri Krishna. It is still as much popular, as it was during then. On this day everybody comes out with their pichkaris, colours, abir etc to beautify their friends and relatives, and in a way embellish their hearts. Colours play a very significant role in this particular ocassion. Red, Green, and Yellow are the primary colours used in this festival. 'Red' symbolises energy, power, passion and love; 'Green' is the colour of nature, and represents growth, harmony, freshness, and fertility. Green has strong emotional correspondence with safety. And, 'yellow', the colour of sunshine, epitomises joy, happiness, and intellect. The festival aims at inculcating the virtues of these hues in the life of every human being, and thereby, dispelling all the colours of gloom, which overshadows and darkens up the very existence of mankind. Thus, the true significance of holi is not merely playing with colours, but also aiming at an emotional invigoration. A resurrection of the joys, mirth, glory, happiness and all the positive virtues, leaving behind the negative vibes of life.

In Bengal, Tagore initiated this festival as an emblem of unity and harmony. On this very day at Santiniketan, the students come out in 'Yellow' dresses, unanimously singing the song "orey grihobashi, khol dwar khol, laglo je dol....". It is followed by playing with abir. Holi there is celebrated with a tinge of spirituality, filling the minds of people with an air of solace and peace.

Let us all come out to celebrate this festival of colours, forget all our sorrows, miseries, hatredness, enmity and embrace the true true spirit of Holi, kindness, sacrifice, love, peace and unity. HAPPY HOLI TO ALL...!!!

My soul was drenched in god’s own tears,
That he shed upon us as heavenly showers
People ran for shade under the bowers…
Failing to perceive, they were to rub our fears.

The wakeful dreamer

The only desire of my heart

To fetch out a cup of love from you,

That you poured from the kettle of your mind

But alas !!! passed to someone else...

I, a loon, sat by thy sight and Cried:

Wait! Wait! don't you reckon my love?

Did you forget the blissful days,

That kept you and me tied...

Those liars laughed and mocked,

Said the lease of my love is over.

I smiled back and said:

DEATH IS THE LEVELLER...!!!