Immortalizing Some Moments of Joy

   

From the pen-APN

In life’s journey, sometimes you stop for a while, not because you are caught in a storm but because the journey seems more delightful than your desired destination. And you with your good companion discover joy, beauty and sunshine all dancing around you on a musical note of togetherness……

And maybe your companion, who loves you now most, draws her cell phone and clicks your photos because all such blessed moments may slip away in the passage of time but the memories will linger for all times to come .    

Musings of a Footpath Dweller

From the pen-APN

I am sleeping on the footpath and the only torn blanket that I have wrapped around my body is my world. The blinding street lights, colossal edifices, crowded malls, wide roads, the bustling traffic and restless crowd around me cannot excite me. I am a non-entity in the fast-moving and fast-changing world. For years, the footpath has given me shelter and the glittery world by the sides of footpath has thoroughly convinced me of my littleness. All know I am in poverty and poverty is in me and I am alive like grass which is crushed under feet but stubbornly clings to life……..My life pitiably lingers on the footpath.

Needless to say…..I experience the gnawing poverty and at the same time, I bear testimony to the moral poverty of my country’s rulers and the insatiable greed of big shots who are seated at the helm of power.  

My impoverished shabbiness is jarringly out of place with the glitters of the swanky supermarkets and the posh city culture but I am undone. I have to stay in them unwanted like a cacophony in a beautiful piece of music. I cannot do much to mend my fate but, in these days, I have learnt to stay oblivious to the tall promises of “Achhe din ayenge” made by many politicians who hold power, wield power and swag power.   

Today morning, I was hired to carry a political party’s banner in a rally for half a day’s wage. I carried my old body and hurriedly advanced in spite of my advanced age because the party worker won’t pay me unless I held his banner high and walked straight in the rally. The pity is that my back is irrevocably bent by my leaders and by their faulty policies whereas I have no option but to hold their banner high in exchange of a half day’s wage or a few kilograms of subsidized rice.

They frame laws for me to make poorer so that I can hold their banner high in rallies at a little expense. I am no statesman but from deep within my heart a voice painfully cries and asks a question, “What is the value of that progress which cannot touch the lives of the poorest of the poor?”

Tomorrow, I may be hired by some other party but the question will remain the same.

Now I am almost dead with my own struggles and I am assured of one thing that I have to go on like this a few more days till my body lies motionless on the footpath and the municipality people come to remove my corpse. But until that day I have to carry their flag because the show must continue…..

A Revelation That Comes with 5 September, 2018

                                                                                         

From the pen-APN

Life finds a meaning when one’s own familial well-being is ensured and the individual’s inner attitude to serve others shines spontaneously and out of gratitude towards society. It feels good to be an instrument of progress in peace of mind and accompanying ease of action arising from a clear conscience. I will say it is God’s grace when your life is blessed with such invaluable gifts. The first gift is that all the minimum requirements for a decent life are fulfilled and the second gift is that you are in good health and in sound state of mind to serve the world around. When these two things meet together life becomes a beautiful song.  

September 5, the special day dedicated to teachers, made my heart supple and made me understand the above truth amidst the love and joy of some happy students.  

Into a Life Mechanical

From the pen-APN

In the fast-changing world, every moment the norms of life are changing. Man is continually changing. His/her attitudes, beliefs, thinking and the situations around him/her are changing from moment to moment. In such an ever-transforming world, every individual is toiling hard to keep balance.

Newly invented tools, new scientific discoveries and use of modern technology in all walks of life have given super speed to these processes of change. In short, the world has become super-dynamic. The world shows kaleidoscopic changes as if it was the trailer of a super-fast Hollywood action film with time-lapse effect.

Today a preschooler of the twenty-first century can amaze an adult of the 80’s by his/her agility to deal with modern gadgets, computers, smart-phones and allied technologies.  

In such a world where there is steep competition to survive and where everything is valued on the basis of utility and where everything is judges basing on skills, profit-loss implications, the vocation of poetry, drama, literature and fine arts seem incongruous.

It seems Literature will soon fashion itself on the notes of some jarring metallic sounds of industrial machines. Now, literature is losing the charm of the morning sunrise and the magic of dew-laden grass. In the opposite, Literature has started to accommodate in its body the digital rhythms of robotic operations, breathless run of automobiles, the strife between warring zones, the extreme fight for depleting resources and the dying voice of morality.

The nature-poetry, the fresh puff of breeze, the burbling cascades, the varied tall and short plants, which give a characteristic green to earth, are all going to fade away in the closed cubicles, which are artificially chilled with air-conditioners.    

If all things run like machines and with machines disrespecting the fine sensibilities of literature, we will soon turn into some robots and we will be no more the human beings. We will be like the battery-powered doll which mechanically beats the drums to declare that there is some life in it but all know that such liveliness is without a heart. It is simply mechanical and functional.

Whitish Ash of Burnt Memories

From the pen-APN

A lamp was glimmering somewhere but its light was visible to me in the night. It was a starless night and the atmosphere was humid and the soil was wet because for two days it had rained continuously.

The glowing lamp’s hope , the dark night’s despair and the teary rain’s anguish were somehow whispering my life’s tale.  

I was standing inhaling the smell of wet ground and listening to the mixed sounds of so many nocturnal insects. In the shrill noise of those unseen creatures and in the thickness of darkness, I was experiencing a fleeting night, which would soon end, heralding a new morning with some sunshine.

As I internalized my attention to read the scars on my own heart, to my surprise, I discovered no scars but some burnt out whitish ash all ready to manure the substratum of my heart with more feelings, with more compassion and more humanity. And the ash was nothing but my burnt out memories arising out of an unhappy relation.

Fixing my eyes in the distant starless dark sky, my lips produced a faint smile and  a thought-wave crossed my mind bringing a conclusion that  “she was nothing but a strong fire and she burnt me like hellfire. But, lo! I was not killed and the remnant dusty ash deep in my heart is but a sign that I am now a purified one- free and blest, like a winged creature chasing the morning sun.”

The night had passed and a smiling sun was rising in the east sky.

A Meditative Joyful Song

From the pen-APN

With many Smiles of hope fading in despair,

With much of life murdered by unfaithful affair,

Life still stands tall with a meditative joyful song,

Of forgiveness, of humanity and a heart strong…

A Night Journey in the Fog Via Kalinga Ghat

From the pen-APN

In the stealth of a moonless night, my vehicle was climbing down Kalinga Ghat. The hills that stood by the sides of the road were hardly visible as thick fog had covered the Ghat road. The fog was so thick that anything was hardly visible beyond 15 meters. It was the month of May and such heavy fog in the night was unexpected.

I groped my limited knowledge of Geography. I remembered some content of my Geography textbook which I used to read during my class 10. It said that what is perceived as fog by the people at the top of mountain looks like cloud to the people at the foot of that mountain.

My speed was reduced to sub 20 km/hr because I was now piercing through the thick layers of water vapors. The windshield wiper of my car was rhythmically cleaning the windshield. I wanted to stop my car and get down and click a half dozen of photos in the headlamp of my car but my friend who was accompanying me discouraged me from doing so.

Getting out of the car in that foggy night amidst the wilds of the hills was enchanting but it had some risks too.

“Man is born free, and everywhere he is in chains.”  I realized the meaning of this maxim, in real sense, when I had to accede to the requests of my friend.

I stayed inside the car with the doors shut but I shot a short video of that foggy night through the windshield and I had to remain contented without having the feel of the cloud/fog vapors on my skin.

“Man is born free, and everywhere he is in chains."

FOR A RELATIONSHIP, UTTERLY FOUL

From the pen-APN

For a relationship, utterly foul,

I staked all my soul,

And I was flung into cursed hellfire

Of betrayal and illicit desire

With eyes shut and mind puzzled,

With broken heart and spirits muddled,

I was sliced and halved,

Poisoned and almost dead,

Because you cruelly grinned,

A vampire, devilish and wretched,

Crouched on the callous desert

Of treachery and deceit

So all emotions I strangled to cessation,

All memories I buried in oblivion, 

All fond relationships I threw to Sea,

And I killed someone in me

And hoped my resilient mind will seal,

And the sunny heart will heal,

The wounds on my back

To keep me on life’s track

When I Walked out of Her Life (a one-page story series)

From the pen APN

Friends and foes are never constant in life. The stream of life proves one thing unfailingly that you cannot step the same water twice.

In this life, at a point of time, she came, shone for a while with the brightest of colours and the sweetest of smiles. Then I made her vanish from my life because I could not withhold her anymore. I could not learn my higher realities while using all my faculties and energies to hold her within the confinements of my being. Slowly I learnt she was not mine and she was a coveted prize of many seekers. She was capricious and she was mercuric and that was the beauty of her nature. That trait of her nature to become constantly inconstant added strange attractiveness to her nature and many a hearts would die for it.

One day I was also pining for her and I was fighting gallantly to claim her to be mine but the truth was that she was not meant only for me. She was just like a bubbling stream to flow into any favourable direction with instant changes and compromises but I was too hard and granitic to allow her such free course of meandering motions.

There were inevitable tussles and a dreadful destruction of the early rainbows of romance. Finally, I did something manly. All of a sudden I decided to walk out of her ways and gifted her back her lost freedom and her old life. And I walked away as a new confident man who never curbs other’s freedom and I walked away as one who can live by himself in peace, joy and balance forgetting all hurts and harboring no gumption because ‘I am what I am: a unique entity and a lone star shining with my own light.’ 

My entire world changed instantly.  

Today I do not listen to sad songs that describe the heartaches of a disappointed lover. I no more feel the pangs of a lost love. My heart is healed and I listen to the happy song ‘Bom Diggy Diggy Bom Bom’ (A latest Bollywood song with peppy music. Check it out on the web, you will love it!)

It took more than a month to digest all the pains and emerge once again as a confident man to face life with the brightest of smiles. And now I give the heartiest smiles and feel one with the limitless sky and I shine too with my own light.

An Echo from the Hearts of TSDians on the Occasion of Dr.B.P.Mahaptra’s Superannuation

From the pen-APN, 31^st March 2018

“A lovable person among us who is always seen in a white shirt and deep-coloured trousers has subtly carved the most indelible impressions on our lives in the last 1 year 9 months and 2 days at TSD College.”

Silent but dignified, simple but introspective, friendly but non-interfering, as you are, you elicit the best of emotions and regards from the very core of our hearts. To impress by not trying to impress, to speak volumes by not speaking a word, to influence magically at the subconscious level by exerting no conscious efforts are some of the wonderful aspects of your life and profession which will never cease to amaze us. And we, the staff members of TSD College, dream for that unique stoicism which is so natural a trait in you.

The fingers that touch a fragrant flower will exude the same fragrance for a while and in the same way, any person who comes in contact with Dr Bhagabati Prasad Mahapatra will exude the same joy of being humble, natural and simple. 

By observing your professionalism, we have learnt how to be a thinker and philosopher who makes self-analysis from moment to moment. We also have learnt from you how to refine our views and approaches towards life and then invent productive and exemplary modes of living that will ultimately enrich humanity at large.   

We know not when and how you affixed your signature-impressions in the core of our hearts by your abnormally normal disposition and gorgeously simple lifestyle and last but not the least by your uncommonly commonsense of life, education and literature.  

We thank you and pray for a glorious life ahead. And at the same time, we love you and feel for you with the deepest of our emotions and feelings on this last working day of your eventful professional life.

With Regards,

Yours Sincerely,

All your Colleagues

TSD COLLEGE, B.D.PUR

The ‘Arisa’ cake-maker

From the Pen-APN

A few months back when I was talking with that man, he seemed to be a dexterous entrepreneur. He used to sell ‘Arisa’ cake in a tin box laden on the carrier of a bicycle by the road-side of Bhanjanagar Market. He described me a lot about many Odia delicacies. And then he offered me a piece of his Arisha Cake (a type of Odia traditional cake made from jaggery) and at the same time, he extolled the speciality of the cake from the viewpoint of Odia culture. He had a pleasing smile and appealing communication skills. That day I was very much impressed both by the taste of his ‘Arisa’ Cake and his way of presenting the cultural value of the said dish. 

That day I had bought 6 pieces of the said cake and I went home to relish it with my family.

Today I met the same man in the same place in the same fashion but this time the genuine smile was eclipsed by some inner pain. The man seemed to be defeated by some unknown troubles.  I could not find the previous enthusiasm in his voice. He told, “Sir I struggled in this market for one year but I failed.” I was surprised because the taste of his ‘Arisa’ cake was unique and it obviously puzzled me why the classic product could not take off. Reading the expression of my concerned face he went on explaining, “Sir, people now call themselves modern and junk food with ‘China Salt’ (Monosodium Glutamate) is more appealing to their taste buds. And now in the name of culture, my business can no more stand. People have made junk food a fashion although it is unhealthy”

I realized the truth. At the same time, I could see how the youth of the town were swarming to a nearby fast food centre at the other side of the road and hanging around the heated pan on the oven that was frying earthworm-like noodles with lightning fast hand movements of a sweating cook. And I was the lone customer of that Arisa cake maker standing with him and trying to figure out the pains of a struggler, with his traditional know-how and values, who is fighting hard to overcome the blinding ads, a glamorous restaurant set up and the endemic junk food culture.      

I paid him Rs 70/- and carried my parcel of 7 pieces of cakes with no words to speak as I had no consolation to offer. And I left the cake seller alone in the busy road imagining and feeling sad about how my culture meets a dead end under the pressures of an invading culture like Chinese noodles, soup and other junk food.

Your Smile is not Fairy like Anymore….

From the Pen-APN

Your smile is not that much fairy-like anymore. I had linked my soul to your happily beaming face. But to my surprise now you go on showering your beauty and charm lavishly on any co-traveller you encounter on your way.

I get perplexed at your indiscriminate treatment of them who could never be serious lovers like me. Although you say, “All my beauty and youth is only for you,” you offer your beauty and youth to others packaged with lucrative smiles and inviting talks. You say you are all for me but when one day I found you are conspiring with a new comer to share your womanly love, I was utterly confused about my place in your life. You labelled the new guy simply as an acquaintance but you treated him more than your husband.

And I am hurt today because one day you had treated me more than your husband who is still alive and now you treat the new entrant more than me when both your husband and I are alive.

I simply say, “Oh! Shit,” because I am twice removed from you, first by your husband and then by the other guy.

Completely broken and deeply hurt I knock my house doors. And my pious wife opens the doors with oceans of true love in her eyes for me. She hugs me lovingly and does not know that she hugs a cheating heart that has been cheated recently by some other crafty woman.