Maa Always

My Maa

Always more. Always stronger.

Here and everywhere.

‘Maa’

My first breath.

‘Maa’

My first dream.

‘Maa’

My first utterance.

‘Maa’

My first speech.

‘Maa’

My first known person in this world.

‘Maa’

My first partner in innocence.

‘Maa’

My first friend.

‘Maa’

My first listener.

‘Maa’

My first teacher.

‘Maa’

My first mentor.

‘Maa’

My first master chef.

‘Maa’

My first written word.

‘Maa’

My first sung hymn.

‘Maa’

My first, admirer and fan.

‘Maa’

My first leader.

‘Maa’

My first philosopher.

‘Maa’

My first Goddess.

‘Maa’

My first everything.

Maa. Nothing less; always more. Nothing weak; always stronger. Here; always here. And everywhere. It’s Maa Always.

- Virtuous Vociferous | May 10 | May Blog-2 | What If | 2020

The Missing Rainbow

Photo Courtesy: Google

Deaths are defeating lives.

Diseases are endangering survival.

Everything has changed around us.

Conversations muted. Movement limited. Socializing curtailed. Freedom denied.

The windows are open; the rays of sun are in; the birds are chirping; but human voices have gone missing.

The doors are open; the breeze is in; the dry leaves of plants and trees are flying in; but humans aren’t walking in.

The world seems to stand divided between – Inner and Outer world.

Everything has come to a standstill.

Happiness seems to have vanished.

Time has paused.

The car, which was left parked after a road trip hasn’t gone beyond the housing colony. The air pressure in the tyres is decreasing every day. The fuel tank is on the verge of running dry. The bike, which is in urgent need of servicing is stationary.

Vacations stand cancelled. Engagements and weddings stand postponed.

We have lost half of March, the whole of April and few parts of May.

Our financial scenario looks pale. Our emotional scenario appears scarred.

Queues are to be seen; outside wine shops, ration shops, police stations, offices of local political leaders. Some want to get drunk; some wish to continue staying overstocked; some are willing to go home; some are still eager to seek privileges.

Trains have stopped running. Flights have stopped taking off. Vehicles have stopped moving between cities, districts, states and countries. Ships are anchored at the shores; there are no immediate signs or symbols of them sailing anytime sooner.

Exams have been cancelled. Projects have been stalled. Employment opportunities have been thinning out. The processes of recruitment have been slowing down.

We made some noise. We lit some candles. We did every possible thing to keep the crisis away. But, strangely the crisis seems far from getting over. Every single day, the crisis keeps growing, multiplying.

Deaths are defeating lives. Diseases are endangering survival.

Hotels aren’t available to stay. Restaurants aren’t serving. Sea beaches are sealed. Resorts are shut.

Once upon a time, this life seemed like a colorful rainbow. The rainbow has gone missing.

Right now, desperately seeking The Missing Rainbow.

- Virtuous Vociferous | May 06 | May Blog-1 | What If | 2020

Didu can never be forgotten

Didu always

We still feel

her presence

among us, within us

She spoke the language of love because she knew only to love. Didu, Amma, Thamma as she was addressed by us; her battalion of five grandchildren, she was special, she will remain special. Even though I am the eldest among my siblings, I would often feel that her love was getting a little more shared between the other four. Well, that is how Didu was; ever loved, ever generous, and ever supportive of us. And all the five of us, loved her infinitely.

On many occasions, that we revisit our memories of her, we remember how she was our friend, our mentor, our guide and as my brother put it – our partner in crime. But what were these crimes, which we would commit and she would happily be a part of? Most of these crimes included purchase of few more candies from the shop, a piece more from the crispy French fries made by her or an extra serve of a piece or two of the mutton she cooked or a little extra cash. Beyond that she would sometimes also be supportive of deducting the extra hours, which our parents might demand us to contribute in studies. But Didu would do this only on one condition; she would make us promise that we should make up for the lost hours in our next session.

Didu was our gravity. She took over from where Dadu left. My two sisters and I were lucky to get pampered by Dadu as well as Didu. My brother and my little sister never got to see who Dadu was or the person, the human being that he was. But they got to see Didu. And Didu showered them with love and blessings. Before she breathed her last on April 20, 2018; it was my younger brother and youngest sister who served her and attended to every demand of hers. One of my sister was already married by then.

My relationship with Didu had been that of grandmother and grandchild. But she was my sister during Rakshabandhan; my mother during my mother’s absence while she was teaching in her school; my father during my father’s shift duties; my teacher while studying. During my college days, I stayed with Didu. I would stay awake till she was awake. And I would sleep when she would sleep.

Two years faded away. But even today, her memories remain fresh in our minds. Be it her own children or us; her grandchildren. At times, I remember those moments when I had fought with Didu. These fights were just like the fights, we break into with our friends and forget about them; as immediately as possible. She would never take offence. But yes, she would grow emotional. Still she was strong enough to make us stronger and make sure that we are prepared enough to take up all challenges of the future, she prayed for us.

The fondest memory, which I hold about Didu is the train journey between Mumbai and Kolkata of 1993. I had just appeared for my board exams. My parents took the landmark decision to send us both to Kolkata. This was my first ever solo journey sans my parents. Didu was traveling with me. During the journey, a mother and son were our fellow travelers. The son would demand anything and everything, which her son would demand. My Didu would buy it for him and I was left fuming. On many occasions, I tried stopping her from doing that; Didu didn’t budge. Finally, there was one such moment, when the mother happened to visit the bathroom and I got the opportunity to ask Didu some tough questions. But the compassionate soul that she was, Didu silenced me in two seconds. When I asked her, why was she spending so much for that kid? She replied, ‘His mother has been putting her hand in the wallet to fish out money. But do you know that she is penniless. Her husband made her board the train but didn’t give her any money to spend during travel. She will only have some access to money when this train reaches Howrah station and her brother comes to fetch her.’ I asked Didu, as to who shared this information with her. Didu replied, ‘When you were fuming and being angry at me for buying him that toy, she saw you. She broke down and told me her story.’ The journey ended. The woman and her son were attended by their relative. I looked at the woman and the child; they smiled and waved at us. I felt a lump in my throat.

So, as another year passes by after Didu’s absence from our lives, we still feel her presence among us, within us. Because for the kind and compassionate soul; Didu can never be forgotten.

- Virtuous Vociferous | April 22 | April Blog-2 | What If | 2020

The Death Of An Actor – RANJIT CHOWDHRY (aka CHOTTU)

Ranjit Chowdhry - 19.9.1955 to 15.4.2020

Ranjit Chowdhury

as the youngest brother

kept us together as family

His sister paid a fitting tribute by posting an old photograph of his; a black and white photograph on instagram. In a footnote, which she wrote on the bottom left of the photograph; Raell Padamsee wrote about her brother – 19.9.1955 to 15.4.2020; actor, writer, maverick; we will miss you. Below the photograph, she wrote a description; as simple as the actor looked or his personality was. She wrote and I quote – For all those who knew Ranjit, the funeral will be held tomorrow and a gathering to celebrate his life and share his stories on May 5. With love, Raell.

I personally learnt about his death from one of the posts of my favorite author Bishwanath Ghosh’s post on facebook. He shared his fondness for the song – Uthe sabke kadam dekho rum pum pum from the movie Baaton Baaton Mein. He described Ranjit as that guy who played the violin in the song is no more. I was a bit taken aback. I googled about his sudden demise and learnt about his demise on April 15.

Ranjit to be specific was a star of the family movies, we grew up watching during the seventies. Thankfully these movies were relayed repeatedly on the Doordarshan and now they are doing the rounds of ‘retro watch’ on some OTT platforms. He was one of those rebellious guys in the movie, who would always step out to do the oddest thing in the movie. As Deepa Mehta put it in an interesting way in one of her interviews with Sanjay Jha, a film critic. Deepa Mehta described Ranjit fondly as eternally rebellious. She added, “His wicked sense of humour, his disdain for convention, his compassion and irascible nature will be hard to replace.”

The movies, I loved him watching were – Baaton Baaton Mein, Khatta Meetha, Khoobsurat, Kama Sutra, Fire. The first three movies were sugarcoated. Kama Sutra showed him in a different light. But it was his role in Fire, which still remains memorable for me. I remember, Fire being banned and people raising slogans against the movie focusing on a lesbian relationship. I cared for none. Two fine actresses were shown falling in love; Shabana Azmi and Nandita Das. They belonged to a dysfunctional family and were married off to the two men in the family; Kulbhushan Kharbanda and Javed Jaffrey. But the third man in the family; the servant played to aching detail by Ranjit Chowdhry was the kind of character, which lingered in my mind. Right in the drawing room, he would sit watching porn. The oldest woman of the house; the so called Daadi (granny) or Ammaji (if I am not getting it wrong) would be asleep and she would keep screaming. Ranjit would do the unthinkable and shower the choicest of abuses to silence her resistance. Post Fire and many years later, in short films on many OTT platforms and YouTube, I’ve come across many characters like him. The closest to his character was the servant form the Tisca Chopra short film Chutney. Yet, he couldn’t beat what Ranjit Chowdhry had shown to the world, which stood resistant to Fire.

In today’s era, when a certain star from Indian film industry makes his way to Hollywood cinema, it becomes news. Ranjit Chowdhry along with the likes of Om Puri, Roshan Seth, Saeed Jaffrey, Anupam Kher, Irrfan Khan had already made it to Hollywood long back. If you don’t believe my words, try watching Denzel Washington’s Mississippi Masala. You will realize, the kind of actor that Ranjit Chowdhry was.

On a concluding note, you might wonder, why am I writing about an actor; I am not even related to. Nope, I am definitely related to him through my love for cinema, which kept us together as family. Ranjit Chowdhry as the youngest brother or the littlest brother in these cinemas was the ever extended olive branch. His characters made us believe – Rebels have a world of their own.

In his memoirs, A Double Life: My Exciting Years in Theatre and Advertising, Alyque writes fondly of his foster son, “Ranjit . . . has always been a delightful spirit of a human being. An impish character, both in size and personality, he’s quick-witted and charming.”

- Virtuous Vociferous | April 18 | April Blog-1 | What If | 2020

#MusingsOfMarch – A NEW BELIEF SYSTEM

The next era of humanity 
is going to be 
the best era of our lives. 

No time is good or bad. Time by itself is unpredictable. That being the fact, no great astrologer could have ever predicted COVID-19 as a threat to humanity. Had such predictions been in place, the World Health Organization wouldn’t have declared it as a pandemic. 

India is not untouched. The global apathy threatens to cripple us. Thus, we need to have a new belief system in place. We need to stay calm and respect the restrictions. These restrictions are not limiting us. These restrictions have been imposed to protect us. 
Starting from March 25, 2020 we will be experiencing a national lock down of 21 days. Trust me, it could get extended to. Therefore, we need to stay calm. We need to seek a new purpose to live and to help live our loved ones. 

It is understandable, the four walls of our home could leave us feeling suffocated. So do the four walls of our offices. But this is not the question of which four walls sustain us well. 
For ages, we have quoted – The home is where our heart is. 

My personal belief says, when the head of our country, the Prime Minister; the head of our state, the Chief Minister; the head of all other countries are asking us to stay home. There seriously couldn’t be a safer place than home, home and only home. 

So, if the times are difficult, don’t curse it. Time is as innocent as we feel we are. And only time will be able to tell us in the coming days, where are we going to stand as a nation, during the difficult phase of corona outbreak. And only time will be able to tell us, where will the entire world be after having fought bravely against the pandemic.

So, 21 days of being immobile. No, don’t take it in a wrong sense. Try telling yourself #21DaysOfChange. Or motivate yourself by saying #21DaysOfAcceptance. Just read the title of this post again, it says – A New Belief System. It is not that devastating. In the year 2011, a freaky accident had left me crippled and I had no choice. A lunatic biker knocked me down. I was left with a hairline fracture on the left foot. When the orthopedic surgeon told me that I will have to stay indoors for the next one month, tears rolled down my eyes. I was to stay home for a month. Initially it was tough. Being a creative person, I couldn’t digest it. But then I put a new belief system in place; I started a blog -  https://immobilehours.blogspot.com

Some of my colleagues from those days laughed; they said, as a patient I was wanting to seek sympathy. I didn’t pay attention to it. After one month, when I walked free, they came forward and said – You might have been immobile, but we witnessed your life unfold through your blog. Thus, seeking an inspiration from those immobile hours of 2011, after almost a decade, I am going to start something today. The first blog-post was supposed to go live on March 25 itself. But I am happy to remain prone to some of the most amazing moments, which make me feel loved. So, even if there is a delay, you will still get to see a new way of life unfold on the new blog – https://residentcreatorofalockedparadise.blogspot.com

On this blog, I am going to document my personal journey for the next 21 days of national lock down. I am in no mood to share anything that is negative. Instead I am going to write about things, which are doable, can be done and what I ended up doing during these 21 days. Also, this blog is not just going to remain limited to my writings during the lock down of 21 days to fight the contagion of COVID-19. This blog will have its updates, even on days when I choose to remain locked at home or could be at a place, and choose to lock myself and write something.

This blog is my way of putting a new belief system in place. Don’t lose hope. Be hopeful. The next era of humanity is going to be the best era of our lives. And before we step out again, let’s stay committed and make ourselves available through our hearts and spirit to #UniteToFightCorona. 

- Virtuous Vociferous | March 26 | March Blog-2 | What If | 2020

#MusingsOfMarch - IN VIEW OF THE WORLD

Take care, treat life well. 

Love yourself. 

Survive, sustain. 

After December 2019, I hadn’t written anything. All this while, I have saving the best words; I have been segregating the best photographs; I have been trying to overcome certain uncertainties. But when I settled down to think of things, I could only imagine a revolving globe. The revolving globe appeared hollow.

Someone had put it so rightly – Fear kills faster.

At this moment, fear is on a rampage. Even the smallest of infection can spell panic. Governments are making announcements to shut down businesses. But, what about the multiple levels of confidence, which had started collapsing due to the outbreak!

The outbreak has a name. The name has its own share of fame too. But the fame is not enjoyable. The fame is not of that nature, which is celebrated.

Depression is setting in; anxiety is pulling in; apprehension is barging in. Should we wear a mask? Should we stay indoors? Should we save our neighborhood? Should we save the world? Questions, questions and only questions.

As is known to many of us, it is a virus. Logically speaking it is invisible. The virus is spreading. And, spreading violently.

Masks are on. Masks are off. Masks are in. Masks are running out of supply. Masks are to be seen everywhere. Masks, masks; more and more masks.

Initially summers were about vacation and socializing. The summers of 2020 are gearing up for evacuation and social isolation. We are arguing; we are contemplating; we are caught in a state of belief and disbelief (both).

Doubts. We are doubting everything. From a sneeze caused due to dust allergies to cough caused due to the food caught in the food pipe. We are doubting everything. The machinery of fear is working closely with our worst of all dreadful experiences.

Words like quarantine, isolation and prevention are growing frequent as vital mentions in our conversations. But I hear no conversations. We hear no conversations. All we hear, we suppress, and we confess is dread, dread and dread.

It could be too easy to call it a modern example of biological warfare. But we aren’t talking war here; we are talking life here. A life that belongs to us and needs to be prevented. Generations can’t get written off. Journeys can’t be discontinued. Love stories can’t remain incomplete.

This threat, this insecurity is endangering our dreams too. We are often heard saying – It’s impossible, not possible. Have we succumbed already? Or we are waiting for the time to consume us in its run against possibilities!

In a situation so challenging, we are also making space for some dark humor. But I guess, humor isn’t a part of this hara-kiri. Reality of time standing stark. Reality of moment seeming dubious. Television is sending out negative signals at us. Social media is sending out mixed signals at us. The truth remains veiled beneath layers of discrepancy.

But this is a phase; a crucial phase to initiate safety measures and to pray for those who couldn’t get the chance to remain safe.

Therefore, by the next time, I write again…my eyes don’t have to be moist; they should be curious again. Take care, treat life well. Love yourself. Survive, sustain. Be there to share your tale of overcoming the odds.  

  

- Virtuous Vociferous | March 16 | March Blog-1 | What If | 2020

DECEMBER DIARY PAGE 4 – Migration is an expression

I love the way, 
2019 shaped my life; 
in absolutely golden and 
immensely memorable ways. 

It was not an unusual message to be delivered on WhatsApp this morning. But I loved the composition. A white mug of freshly brewed coffee was placed in front of a laptop. The activity on the laptop screen was partly visible. An uncluttered view that it appeared to be; the message seemed like the right expression to wrap up 2019. The message read – Last coffee of 2019. 

So, it was the caption; ‘Last coffee of 2019’, which intrigued the mind. Struck by sudden realization, I said to myself - The year ends today. All those 365 days in our credit, will be debited today. And, as the year ends, I am left to wonder, if there is anything to look back to! On that account, I would like to quote Ginger Rogers, an American artist – Looking back at my life’s voyage, I can only say that it has been a golden trip. Seeking inspiration from the same quote, I would say – I love the way, life was in 2019; absolutely golden and immensely memorable. 

Thus, during lunch hour, I stepped out and I got to know about the various migratory plans. Yes, there is a migration that shall take place, right in the middle of the night. We shall flock together, hug strangers, kiss lovers, make love, raise a toast, smoke a cigar, drain champagne, scare people; only to say a goodbye to the year, which would gain the status of ‘past’. In this case, it would be 2019. Some of us will choose to go beyond extremes. 

We will build effigies; these effigies will be that of 2019. We will dress it up with a set of oldest pair of clothes. To give it a personality, we will put up a mask of Santa Claus on the round tip of the effigy. We will call this masked part, the face of the effigy. This will make the effigy look more human. We shall also source an old Christmas cap or maybe, we shall buy a new one and place it on the head of this effigy. We will stuff this effigy with hay, used newspapers, wasted papers and some other material. When the night grows a little sexier and wiser, during midnight, we will commence with our annual sporting event of burning these effigies. Trust me, year after year, this ghastly sight saddens me. The way we treat the year bygone is horrendous. We show no mercy. We treat it like an old man, whom we don’t wish to see again. Is a year’s time old enough to be treated so badly? Such is the behavior because we are fascinated with the violent art of burning effigies; the reason to do so, never matters. 

But this burning and this destruction is a part and parcel of the process called migration. The idea of migration is never a good idea. Most of us carry within us the frustration of perils, we faced; the failures, which broke us; the heartbreaks, we couldn’t handle. Thus, when we are ready to migrate to a New Year, we wish to put up a show. This show has been going on; year after year, consistently. And there has been no greater show than the extravagance of migration on the face of this earth. 

Ban Ki-Moon, a South Korean politician had put it in the most appropriate words. He had said and I quote – Migration is an expression of the human aspiration for dignity, safety and a better future. It is part of the social fabric, part of our very make-up as a human family. So, now it becomes easier for us to understand the euphoria behind this migration; from 2019 to 2020. We are happy. If we aren’t happy, we are SUPPOSED to be happy. 

Happiness also helps us bring out the stranger within us. Some of us aren’t satisfied with the simplistic structure of celebrating this migration. Years of observation have brought into focus, the art of some geniuses. These geniuses have been seen pouring alcohol on the effigies of an old man (the so called old or departing year); some have been caught urinating; the highest numbers have always rested with the one who has been spotted dragging an effigy from one corner of a city, to the farthest corner of a nation caught in a frenzy.

And, here we are; eight more hours for the migration to kick off. I hope you’ve got the stock ready to burn down 2019 and kick off 2020! So, before I say my personal goodbye to 2019, I wish to hug it; kiss it; applaud for it, for being the best year for me. If you wish to know WHY? Then we may need another migration or a new season of migration; 365 days down the line; from 2020-2021. Till then, it is a goodbye from Virtuous Vociferous. And I bid a goodbye with the words below.

Every year is a phenomenon
To celebrate their arrivals
Is a human experience 
Of intense nature.

- Virtuous Vociferous | December 31 | December Blog-4 | Never Settle | 2019

DECEMBER DIARY PAGE 3 – On ground zero of resolutions

A resolution is a seed, 
we sow excitedly.
But we might end up 
burying it forever.

The table lamp is right here; it’s hiding behind its own darkness. The camera is right here; it’s hiding behind its own dysfunctionality. The diary is right here; it’s hiding behind its own blankness.

Blankness is like blindness. You have a pair of eyes; there is no vision in it. You have a mind; there is no thought in it.

In short, everything is blank; almost zero.

So, if we are on Ground Zero, we need to outgrow ourselves. Some outgrow themselves by getting into action and staying in action. And some go out, crossover to the other side, learn a new language; only to end up asking – What’s your New Year Resolution?

Resolution is the most underestimated noun of our times.

Max Lucado, an author had once written or said somewhere – Conflict is inevitable, but combat is optional.
The question – What’s your New Year Resolution – is the conflict.
The reply – Whether we should react or not react – is the combat.

My life hasn’t remained untouched by the conflict. Only I chose to put up a combat in somewhat this manner – A resolution is a seed, we sow excitedly; right in the beginning of the New Year, or by the end of the fading year. For 365 days, we keep talking about it relentlessly. But, we fail to realize; we might have buried that seed beneath our own war of egos, expectations and exigencies.

In simple words, if we can’t stick to our resolutions; why should we be loud about it?

Resolutions are personal. We don’t have to make it trend on social media or make it go viral on multiple platforms. Neither are we required to hold huge placards, assuring our support to the saga of making resolutions; following resolutions.

Long back, a friend had said, his resolution was to live a happily married life. Two years later, he resolved; he would never remarry. 

But, is the habit of making a resolution such a negative process? There might and there definitely will be better stories. It is only in my personal space; I make or create an opinion about something; but not somebody.

Do resolutions give our life, a new direction? Do resolutions shape our life in some way? Do resolutions take us ahead?

We will never have a reply to the above questions. And yet, when someone asks – What’s your New Year Resolution? I would simply reply – My resolution is to not make any resolution. 


- Virtuous Vociferous | December 09 | December Blog-3 | Never Settle | 2019

DECEMBER DIARY PAGE 2 – Until the ripples die away

Death after death 
is much more painful 
than death after life.

Terry Pratchett, the humorist had once said – No one is actually dead until the ripples they cause in the world die away. Before, I could cause my own ripple, my body was thrown in the dungeon. The last sight of my toe was also my last ever connect with the real world. I was not put on pyre. Because no one is left with any time to lit a pyre. Trust me; until your eyes caught sight of my toe, I had still fell alive. Once inside the dungeon, I choked badly. It was death after death, which is much more painful than death after life.

Now that I am gone, you will be required to install a photograph of mine in the drawing room. Black and white photographs are not liked any more. So, please don’t make a mockery of yourself by putting up one. Visitors will queue outside. Some of them will be here for the first time; some of them will be those who had stopped visiting us suddenly; some of them will be the regulars, who kept coming during occasions of happiness and grief.

Please don’t remember or miss me anymore. Try forgetting me and erasing me, my signs from everywhere, which still bears the energies of my painful presence. I am no more alive. I am dead. I have become a ghost. The fire inside the dungeon burnt my skin; the fire was harsh on my hair; the fire turned my already frail body into an unusual lump of nothingness. My ordeal of diesel induced immolation didn’t take much time to get over. Going by the process of rituals, you will have to collect what is left of me in an aluminum tray. Those government employees were not too kind while pulling out my last remains from the dungeon. They left the aluminum tray out in the open. I felt vulnerable to the crows. They kept polishing their beaks to make away with their favorite parts of me. I guess, I had some good luck left with me; the crows missed me. Or they weren’t interested in the burnt remains of a diseased body.

The conversations will get boring now. Many would come, sit by your side, put up a sad face of yours; don’t be surprised to see some replicate your sad pose. Most of them will be curious to know the real reason of my death. Even though, half of them are aware of it, they would want you to repeat the reason. This is a strange habit, born out of binge watching back to back episodes of their favorite series on OTT platforms. Some are prone to repeat watches. So they won’t mind a repeat of the reason of my death, they might have already been aware of. 

Don’t pay any attention to those, who remark – We still can’t believe he is no more. Don’t they know, nothing is permanent in this world! This human body is perishable too. There will also be those, who will surprise you by saying – We felt, we just saw him. Absolutely fake.

Before anyone slips into the role of your mentor and asks you to grow strong, I am advising you in advance to grow strong. Nothing will remain the same. No matter, how much I ask you to not remember me or miss me; you will definitely succumb to the galloping impact of time. My memories will float in your mind; tears will automatically negotiate their release from your eyes. 

Your real work of being related to me, begins now. Since I haven’t left any trail of my possessions, you have to immediately get into fast action mode. You may also need to talk to the priest, choose an appropriate day, to offer your last prayers. Speak to our regular caterer. Ask him to cook my favorite food. Send out invitations to every relative of ours. Rituals of observing the death of a person are far more exhaustive and time consuming than the rituals of a marriage. 

Since we are related to each other, you might be required to shave your head. I leave it up to you. If you aren’t too comfortable moving around with a shaved head; simply avoid! Also; on certain occasions, you may see me in your dreams. Don’t panic. No one is actually dead until the ripples they cause in the world die away. Who knows, I might still be eager to cause my own ripple!

- Virtuous Vociferous | December 09 | December Blog-2 | Never Settle | 2019

DECEMBER DIARY PAGE 1 – The Haemin Sunim Impact

“I wish I'd had the courage 
to live a life true to myself, 
not the life others expected of me.”

Haemin Sunim. This name has been ringing a bell. One of my dearest friend has got me introduced to this man of great honor. I haven’t read his book – THE THINGS YOU CAN SEE ONLY WHEN YOU SLOW DOWN: HOW TO BE CALM IN A BUSY WORLD. But luckily, some excerpts of this wonderful book have come my way; one again with timely help offered from my dearest friend. 

Picture Courtesy: Google

I therefore wish to dedicate this blog to the various things, I learnt from the excerpts; now available with me. 

Excerpt #1

When someone tells you, “No,”
don’t react emotionally and lose control. 
“No” may open up a surprising new world to you.
“No” may unexpectedly lead you to good people. 
If you begin to push against the unchangeable “No,”
you will suffer in the process and miss other opportunities. 

The above paragraph made me look back at 2019 and the many years prior to that. I was reminded of all the testing times, when a ‘No’ or a series of multiple ‘Nos’ came my way. I did exactly the opposite of what Haemin Sunim has gently advised us not to practice. 
Am I feeling terrible about it? Initially I did. But, I read the lines, a few more times. The core of the message, Haemin wants to put across kept getting clearer. His DON’T is not conveying a negative message. His Don’t is drenched in positive vibes and somewhere he is trying to tell us, “let that NO come our way.” Only reminding me of another lovely suggestion made by another good friend of mine, who had one said, “Be in acceptance. Question everything. Expect nothing.”

Excerpt #2

The world will keep turning even without you.
Let go of the idea that your way is the only way,
that you are the only one who can make it happen.

In simple words, Haemin has said something, which has time and again been the reason of all the stubbornness within me. The world is going to go with the flow. Even if I were to stand like a wall, there are forces which will make a breakthrough. I took some time to accept, I am a human being; I am a small particle of this universe. I am element, which is filled with energy. And I am not the only one to make a million things happen. My way exactly might not be the only way. The heart did break at reading this. But I recovered faster because of the reality these three lines reflect of.

Excerpt #3

Do not lament that the world has changed.
Do not resent that people have changed.
Evaluating the present through the memories of the 
past can cause sadness. 
Whether you like it or not, change is inevitable.
Embrace and welcome it.

So far, I kept sharing the same quote – CHANGE IS THE ONLY CONSTANT. But these lines have put that very CHANGE on a very different pedestal. It is a bitter reminder of the many times, I have settled down for breakfast on the dining table. My mom has sat across me and I have definitely evaluated the present through the memories of the past, which has caused sadness, anger, frustration, bitterness and negativity. I know, I can’t like everything. But that everything is also that something, which needs to be embraced. But the medium, I guess might be different or the strategy to embrace might need a re-look.

Excerpt #4

The person leading you toward spiritual awakening
is not the one who praises you or is nice to you.
Your spirituality deepens because of those
who insult you and give you a hard time.
They are your spiritual teachers in disguise.

For the last twenty years, I have met innumerable spiritual teachers in disguise. I may hate to call them teachers. But from them, I feel I have learnt to take the path to make new forays into unexplored zones. I got bruised. I bled. Somehow, I learnt to survive and continue with what I am today or where I wish to be tomorrow. 

Excerpt #5

Life is like a theater. You are assigned a role.
If you don’t like the role,
keep in mind that you have the power to re-create the
role you want.

This path is not a smooth one. There is gunpowder in the air. From a distance, I can smell something insanely bitter. Yet, I won’t step back. I’ve made that move; to re-create the role, I want.

On November 23rd, Haemin Sunim tweeted: 

A part of you that is imperfect or broken can motivate you to work hard to overcome it and can ultimately bring you success in life. Do not despair over what is imperfect in yourself. Instead, look at your flaws with love. #LoveforImperfectThings

If I sit down to count my series of flaws, I may end up tagging them ‘infinite’. But I haven’t look at my own flaws with love. Most of the times, they have been brought to my notice by others. I have started noticing them very recently. Since love wasn’t the way in which I tried looking at them, I always felt, there might be something, which is missing in here.

On October 11th, Haemin Sunim wrote something absolutely phenomenal:

Do not beg for people’s attention. As you discover and develop your unique strengths, they will pay attention to you automatically. #LoveforImperfectThings

Of late, I have seen people try many tricks to seek attention of others. These tricks left me broken emotionally and hampered my emotional intelligence. So, I developed my own unique strengths. The desired attention did come my way. But, there was no dearth of jealousy and unkind temperament around these strengths. I chose to read what Haemin Sunim wrote. I read it again and again. Perhaps this habit of repetitive reading somewhere ended up answering one of the most important questions of my life.

As I conclude, I wish to thank my friend Sia for making me aware of Haemin Sunim; his book and of course the many ways in which, he inspires, motivates and stimulates our minds. 

Picture Courtesy: buddhistdoor.net

It’s high time, life takes a front seat and all other nonsensical stuff take a backseat. 

So, until I write/ blog/ publish/ share something new in the coming days, I wish to quote Haemin Sunim again - Do you know the biggest regret of the dying? “I wish I'd had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me.” Are you walking on the path true to yourself?

I guess, that question, which he asked should answer everything that we could be struggling with. 

- Virtuous Vociferous | December 08 | December Blog-1 | Never Settle | 2019

SHUBHO BIJOYA

Strengths of all mothers 
in this universe were combined 
together to create Maa Durga.

I guess, I am the latest entrant in the long list of avid readers on twitter. Yes, apart from being an active twitter user and before publishing another tweet out there, I too am a reader. As I continued with my journey of reading, I came across this little piece by Ronita. Titled ‘Bijoya Doshomir Chithi’ meaning ‘A letter on account of Bijoya Dashami’, Ronita left me with intense longing for Kolkata again. She wrote and I quote:

BIJOYA DOSHOMIR CHITHI

Bijoya Doshomi is a testimony
that evil may celebrate 
a momentary win but the victory
belongs to the one who has 
the courage, powered by truth.

Debi Durga comes to visit us every year
to remind us that, we have ten hands 
to fight all evils around us. 
She is a symbol of limitless.
May you win over your own limits.

Choto der bhalobasha, 
Guru jon der pranaam 
Ebong bondhooder janai
Sharodiya priti o subeccha.

Iti, Ronita

The ritual to bid adieu to Maa Durga

Words, which instantly struck an emotional chord and will not fade out too easily from my mind; our minds. Simple lines but so rich in feelings. These feelings will continue to run deep in this system of a so called Probashi Bengali. 

Ronita’s words also remind me of the climax of Sujoy Ghosh’s startlingly original climax of Kahaani, when Amitabh Bachchan’s baritone voice echoes: 

Sometimes even Gods end up committing mistakes of grave nature. Gods themselves created the demons; gave them power. And, when these demons started misusing the same power, Gods created Maa Durga; to put an end to the blood-soaked reign of these demons. It’s said, strengths of all mothers in this universe were combined together to create Maa Durga. Every year Maa comes home. She puts an end to all the sins of this world, and then returns to her divine abode in the skies. So that we can continue living happily, peacefully without any fear in our minds. 

This year too, Maa Durga came and she left. She made sure that she liberates this earth of all the sins. But she left behind an evening of unfinished conversations, discontinued journeys and yet to be written stories. Another twelve months of an incessant wait might sound frustrating. But then the many avatars of Maa Durga started giggling joyously. The Sindoor Khela had just commenced. Even though, the moment is not too joyous, these women, draped in red bordered white saris have come out in large numbers to announce the victory of this year. 

Sindoor Khela 

And, I bow down to touch my mother’s feet. She moves back saying – Son, I am wearing a chappal. 

I smile at her and tell her – Your feet are where my Universe is Maa.

She smiles and I see an idol of Maa Durga slowly being immersed in the waters of Holy Ganges. And I also hear the crowd announce – Ashchhe Bochhor Aabar Hobe (Coming year this will continue in the same manner). 

The evening takes over. Clouds clash with each other. Rains descend. The electricity supply goes off. The electric supply is restored. The WiFi jumps into action; a message on WhatsApp makes me smile; it reads – SHUBHO BIJOYA (meaning Positive Victory).

Note: Picture courtesy - Google. 

- Virtuous Vociferous | October 09 | October Blog-2 | Never Settle | 2019

DURGA PUJA (PUJO) IS ALMOST KNOCKING ON THE DOORS

Durga Puja is oxygen,

survival, a moment of awakening

for the red blooded Bengalis.

Devlina Ganguly happily wrote on September 30; just two days after Mahalaya - Calcutta during #DurgaPuja is a fairytale land. No matter the workload, the traffic or any other shit, the Pujo (Puja) feel is so contagious that the smile keeps coming back on your face. The heart brims over with happiness.

Durga Puja, Picture Courtesy: Lonely Planet, India

For a moment, the heart jumped with joy.

The heartbeats tried to synchronize with the rhythm of Dhak playing on Gaana.Com.

Unexpectedly, the mind gently slipped into the dark comfort of a cute little boat, which set sail from the Princep Ghat; now moving slowly towards the middle of the sacred river.

I know, all of it is just an imagination.

But, before that, it was my friend Satabdi Sarkar, who sent an urgent message on WhatsApp; the message carried the title of this blog post in bold – PUJO (PUJA) IS ALMOST KNOCKING ON THE DOORS. I just added Durga in the beginning to make it more obvious, clearer.

The door/ doors, mentioned by Satabdi Sarkar, is the heart of a Bengali or the hearts of innumerable Bengalis (including me, my immediate neighbor, my others); be it the Resident or the Probashi. Durga Puja is oxygen; Durga Puja is survival; Durga Puja in every sense is a moment of awakening for the red blooded Bengalis.

I must tell you, opinions stand divided too about the happy population of Bengalis.

Some onlookers, followers, critics, reviewers, fans of Bengali culture wish to know:

• What does Pujo do to Bengalis?
• Are Bengalis busy seeking love during Pujo?
• How can Bengalis have nonveg food during religious festivities?
• Is it true that Bengalis grow completely insane from Panchami to Dashami?

To me, the rising smoke from Dhunuchi is the first sign of Agomoni (the arrival); the first rhythm, the Dhaki sets the Dhak to is the second sign of a much awaited festival; the early morning of Mahalaya is the third sign. And once the Devipaksha begins; there is no looking back. It is all about the Pujo; not just ordinary Pujo but Durga Pujo (Puja).

Festivals are to be celebrated together. But, just when the Pujo is about to begin, what if someone breathes her or his last? The heart sinks; the mind numbs; the vision narrows; the words disappear; the euphoria calms. But does the Bengali soul in us sit down quietly? Perhaps not! Because by the time, I reach the end of this blog post, a Bengali from the other corner of the world will be wishing Shubha Panchami to a Bengali from just another corner of the world.

Yes. Durga Pujo (Puja) is almost not knocking on the doors any more. It has begun! Time to bring the hands together, blend into festivities of yet another amazing year. And, maybe wait for yet another love story to unfold. Oh did someone say, they will be serving Rosogolla after the Bhog? Dada, count me in. I will be right there. Come Maa. Let’s go!

- Virtuous Vociferous | October 02 | October Blog-1 | Never Settle | 2019