SOON

 December 28-2020/ Blog #2

The value of SOON has increased 

by leaps and bounds

As an adverb and as a mere word, SOON stands most underrated; also unstated.

SOON also sounds so obsolete when spoken in the trembling voice of a year as troubled as 2020.

If expressed in the pandemic era, SOON is Hope.

When conveyed in the pre pandemic era, SOON used to be synonymous to happiness.

In the last one month though, the value of SOON has increased by leaps and bounds.

Finally SOON might end up being declared as the frequently uttered/ spoken word of 2020.

Presently we are caught in the carnival of SOON.

The obsession with SOON is understandable.

The rallying around with SOON as the keyword also seems valuable.

SOON started trending when the news came in - There will be a vaccine SOON.

Covid-19/ Corona has left the universe in a state of despair.

Why then the two words of 'VACCINE SOON’ can’t stand eligible to grab global headlines?

Domestic media hasn’t stayed behind.

Just like they reported the fast increasing cases of the pandemic; they are trying to cover as much news, information, rumor and gossip as possible with the hashtag #VaccineSoon.

SOON is a four lettered word. So are LOVE, HOPE, PAIN, HELP and HEAL.

Does that mean SOON is a combination of LOVE, HOPE, PAIN, HELP and HEAL?

Or LOVE, HOPE, PAIN, HELP and HEAL when summed up together is SOON?

I think that will need another round of tireless thinking to establish the connection between both!

But the news of Vaccine Soon sounds good.

But the real journey begins now.

It is important for all of us to remember, the advent of vaccines simply won’t put an end to the drama of a modern day pandemic.

Also the vaccine won’t bring back those who are no more.

The vaccine might help us behave a little responsibly. 

SOON sounds urgent. SOON sounds too important.

At least during the pandemic, SOON is the only ray of possibilities.

SOON might finally make the twain meet between what was, what is and what will be.

The year 2020 seems to be already preparing to pave the way for 2021 SOON.

But will 2021 also emerge as the most opportune time to burn our masks SOON?

None of us can answer that question. But we will find an answer SOON.

-Virtuous Vociferous/ What If/ 2020

 

A Different Form Of Life

 December 14-2020/ Blog #1

Life is at times absolute; 

at times obsolete too.

Life.

So far we know it just by one of its forms.

The form of life, which we are living now.

The one, we say is a Gift of God.

The one, which is given to us by our parents.

Life.

Have we ever thought of it differently?

Have we ever thought of imagining it differently?

No. We haven’t.

There is nor harm in doing that.

Maybe we can discover something which could be better than this form of life.

Life.

I wonder about it often.

Strange questions flood my mind.

Does this LIFE belong to us?

Or

Do we belong to this LIFE?

Life.

I love to imagine it differently.

I often think, life is like a train.

Always in motion.

Travelling from one destination to the other.

And that is where I feel there is a problem.

I wonder what happens to life as a train when it finally reaches a certain destination!

Does it come to a standstill?

Life.

If I say it is like a train; it can be considered an interesting form.

Now consider life being in motion.

A destination; a so-called station is almost round the corner.

Just then someone announces that the so-called station, the train was supposed to stop at doesn’t exist any more!

Or it might happen that someone suddenly reveals - the so-called station has suddenly disappeared!

What will happen to this form of LIFE then?

I meant, what would happen to life, I am imagining in a different form; as a train.

Will Life follow the same?

Life.

I believe it is a strange package of equally strange events and instances.

Life is at times absolute; at times obsolete too. 

Life.

No matter in what form you imagine it as. 

Even if we consider a different form of life.

It will still sound, smell, taste, feel and seem like this LIFE of ours.

Life is life. Nothing else.

-Virtuous Vociferous/ What If/ 2020

The Two Worlds

November 15-2020/ Blog #1

We coexist between 

two worlds. 

We might miss paying attention to one reality.

Or we are aware of it. But we don’t talk much about it.

The reality is, we coexist between two worlds.

Yes, you read it right.

Rather than saying we live in two worlds; I am trying to say - We coexist between two worlds.

Which are these two worlds?

The first world is the tangible world.

Besides being only tangible, this world also serves as home to us.

This home is beautiful.

We have built this home or bought this home with great hope.

We eat, we pray, we love in this home.

We share a warm coexistence with its residents (mostly family).

The other world is the intangible world. 

This is the most interesting one. 

It doesn’t have a shape, a form of its own. 

This world is found stuck between two drawers. 

This world is found trying to release itself from the dog-eared pages of a book.

This is that world, which is privy to everything we do; we don’t do; we try to hide from others.

This is that world, which allows a spider to crawl over it and leave a legacy of cobwebs behind.

This legacy then gets transferred to spiders of new generation, who waste no time to take this legacy to a new level. 

Do you know when our frequency of  visit to this intangible world increases?

Mostly during festive occasions or a special moment in the household. 

Because that is when we take a broom or a piece of cloth in our hand to get rid of the first layer of dust, which hides this intangible world.

Interestingly the tangible and the intangible worlds are never caught in a conflict. 

They know their space, their purpose in this universe. 

Remember, they are these two worlds. They exist. They have been existing. 

It is we who are coexisting between them.

-Virtuous Vociferous/ What If/ 2020

Our Own Biographies

The opening lines of my autobiography

October 19-2020/ Blog #2

Discover ourselves first.
Then rediscover ourselves.

Who am I? Who are you? Who is she? Who is him? Who are they? Who are we? These questions have been within our minds for a long time. But we never set time aside to introspect. But in the past seven months, that we have been living indoors; working from our homes, achieving and failing from the comfort of four walls; starting new things and stopping doing old things; listening and muting conversations; seeing something and then choosing to turn blind; seeking a hug and suddenly acting indifferent; we aren’t realizing that time has been setting us aside to help us introspect. 

No one in this entire world is denying the reality - enough of this; enough of that; enough of me; enough of you; enough of him; enough of them; enough of us. Enough. Yes enough. But just screaming ‘Enough’ at the peak of our voices is not going to push those thoughts in the abyss. In there; in the abyss; down there; many reasons, many more reasons of screaming ‘Enough’ have been choking to death for the past seven months. But is ‘Enough’ the ultimate action and the reaction? What will happen to the questions we had started asking - Who am I? Who are you? Who is she? Who is him? Who are they? Who are we? Don’t these questions deserve answers. Or we leave these questions somewhere; ask others; waste time over them and then one day, we will again scream ‘Enough’ and stop thinking about them!

But think about them? Aren’t these questions important? What if I tell you that every question is biographical. Every question is hinting at something very personal, very intimidating. Why can’t we treat these questions as research material to write our personal biographies? Who knows us better than we ourselves? Has anybody ever known about the rare passion, immense love you harbor for your Sundays? Has anybody ever seen the sketches you draw of the person, you had loved more than your life? Does anybody know that when you release the shutter of your camera, you create magic with your third eye? Nobody knows anything about you. Somebody might claim to know you. But how much of you is known to anyone else? Too little. 

I wish to make a confession. In the past seven months, I have been asking the same questions - Who am I? Who are you? Who is she? Who is him? Who are they? Who are we? But as a human being, I too have been procrastinating. I feel I had seven fruitful months. These seven fruitful months are not going to return to me or us ever. Maybe we have got a few more months with us to ask those questions again! Perhaps try seeking answers again! Because if we don’t seek these answers now, we will never discover ourselves. In a world where we speak proudly about rediscovering life; rediscovering who we are; rediscovering our childhood; rediscovering our passion; rediscovering our love; we never ever talk about merely discovering ourselves. Maybe we should make that effort to discover ourselves first and then continue with our personal journeys to rediscover ourselves. 

Trust me, we aren’t alone in this journey. The time is with us. The situation is with us. Terms like lockdown, social distancing, precaution, sanitization, hygiene are with us. Every breathing being, living being and struggling being is with us to ask and repeat the same questions - Who am I? Who are you? Who is she? Who is him? Who are they? Who are we? Let’s try seeking answers. Let’s have our own biographies. Let these biographies be not verbose but introspective. I have decided. When I write my biography; I will begin with the line - My is is my was and my was is my is…

Maybe by the time, I am done writing my biography, this line; this statement; these words will get stolen. Because we might be maintaining social distancing. But we aren’t going to distance ourselves from the overpowering impact of social media. Because if we aren’t trending, we aren’t living. But we are still being followed; (sometimes) liked; (most of the times) disliked, trolled, threatened, traumatized, chased, etc. But again, with that whatever little we have left with us, let us have our own biography in place.

-Virtuous Vociferous/ What If/ 2020

The Revival

October 01-2020/ Blog #1

There will be newness.

Discover it. 

After having celebrated fifteen years of blogging in September, my blog didn’t make much noise. Neither did I. Does that mean that I have grown lazy?

I therefore wish to begin with the process of the revival. 

I am thankful to specific friends and readers, who have developed a habit of visiting my blog; reading its new posts. Or else, they would have never asked or said the following:

Did I miss something??

I definitely reply when I read. 

The above is a motivating example of some reading happening on my blog. I respect such emotions. 

So, going by the title ‘The Revival’, I would like to clarify that it is not about restoration of life, a new production of an old play, a showing of an old motion picture. The title of ‘The Revival’ hints more towards an awakening (with no religious interpretations please).

This Awakening or This Revival is a journey by itself. It is an effort to review, relook. So far, this blog of Virtuous Vociferous has stood its ground as a representative platform of certain subjects. Will it continue being a platform or will it become the real voice of the author (meaning me)? But this blog has always been my voice; an extension of my personality. Should you then expect something new?

Yes there will be newness. I won’t reveal about the specific elements of this newness now. Let the newness remain fresh. Am I going to make an announcement or issue a statement? As the author of this blog, I would request you to discover it. 

-Virtuous Vociferous/ What If/ 2020

The 15 year BLOGVERSARY - September 19 | 2005-2020

 

September 22-2020/ Blog #1

This blog is my voice.  An extension of my personality. 

My blog www.virtuousvociferous.blogspot.com is just five years younger to my career span in the advertising industry. I owe its evolution to my learning from the advertising industry and the world. 

This blog is my voice. This blog is an extension of my personality. This blog takes its name from my crafted identity on Facebook. But when I started writing this blog, it had a very different identity. I commenced blogging with the title of Bengal Surprise. Eventually I chose to change it to Urban Surprise. Somehow, these names weren’t ringing a bell. I still don’t remember exactly as to what made me change its name to Virtuous Vociferous. But I am happy, I did so. As the name changed, so did my style of writing. I owe the change in my writing style to authors like Jhumpa Lahiri, Jeffrey Archer, Karl Ove Knausgaard, Bishwanath Ghosh, Mark Manson, Piyush Jha, Piyush Pandey, Prasoon Pandey and Manav Kaul. I’ve time and again referred to their writings; read their books; followed their interviews; watched their interviews; listened to their podcasts. This influence has been stupendous. 

I am also lucky to have some great friends around me. They read my blog. On many occasions, whenever I have shared a link of my newly published blog post, they make time to comment. Some also make sure to highlight the paragraphs, they liked the most. And when I tend to act lazy, these are those friends who call me, write to me and remind me - I NEED TO WRITE. I never mind them coaxing me. It is their love and faith which made me add the title of ‘WHAT AM I WRITING NEXT?’ to my page. I am immensely thankful to them too. 

On September 19, 2020 the blog turned fifteen. I remember the night of September 19, 2005 when I had posted my first blog at around 10.30 pm. I was overcome by joy. I felt overwhelmed. From then, till today, my blog has served as a foundation for me to write and share my thoughts with the world. 

My blog has made me reach out to people. My blog has invited attention too. I would like to share a small incident regarding the same. One of the renowned Page Three socialites from Mumbai had not only commented on a blog post. But she made it a point to meet me at a book launch. In a very polite manner, she pointed out to me the aspects of that blog post. The parts, which she loved the most. The parts, which she felt should be deleted. The parts, which she felt were simply brilliant. She took keen interest in this blog post because I had based it on her life, which was again written about by Sir Jeffrey Archer. 

All these fifteen years have been interesting. All these fifteen years have enriched my experience. All these fifteen years of the blog has been a celebration of a journey through listening, observing and learning too. 

I invite you all to be a part of this celebration. Your participation will only motivate me to keep writing and keep this blog Virtuous Vociferous. 

-Virtuous Vociferous/ What If/ 2020

As a writer in the Freedom Month

Notes from 2016

August 06-2020/ Blog #1

I am wondering 

as to when I’ve enjoyed 

writing the most.

At times, I feel good to introduce myself as a Writer.

Writer by itself doesn’t sound like a designation.

It is a title. A title not necessarily bestowed. But an earned title.

A title, which is so close to my heart and (maybe) to the hearts of those, who know me as a writer.

I do get asked:

Are you a writer?

What do you write about?

Why don’t you write love stories?

How about trying your hands at writing a movie script?

Have you considered writing a web series?

When will you experiment with something sensuous?

Do you write porn?

After that first book how long should we wait for your second book?

What does it take to become a writer?

Which writer inspires you the most?

I don’t deem it necessary to answer all of them.

I think I am content with the fact that I am a writer.

Some might also argue that they don’t get to see much of my writings. 

I’ve never disagreed. Maybe because I am not in a mood to make everything too apparent or visible to everybody.

So here I am, the so-called Writer.

Thinking about myself and writing a little part about myself by being myself.

As a writer in the Freedom Month, I am wondering as to when I’ve enjoyed writing the most.

Naturally I’ve enjoyed writing the most when I have felt free; free of prejudice, free of malice, free of botheration. 

But then someone will again argue - Writing comes from within; it doesn’t need a day, a date or a time for something to evolve. I would again not disagree.

As a writer in the Freedom Month, I would only wish that the freedom to write is never taken away from me.

-Virtuous Vociferous/ What If/ 2020

July’s rain-less beginning

Photography by Purnesh Bhattacharya

July 02-2020/ Blog #1

It is not my nature

to complain against

Mother Nature.

Turning a new leaf of the calendar; stepping into the new month; breathing in a new aroma; it is time to embark on a new journey. No, if you think, I am going to step out; it isn’t practically possible or advisable at this moment. We have to practice patience for the good times to make a comeback. The agents of change are working towards it. Let’s have some faith. Let’s strengthen our belief.

July’s advent at this moment seems a bit odd though. If you’re in Mumbai right now, you should be knowing that July is one of those months when the clouds are in good mood. But this time, the clouds seem to have proceeded on an undeclared holiday. The skies are clean. This morning, we did see some clouds hovering around. But like a misled fleet of birds, they left almost immediately. The atmosphere somehow continued being fragrant. This fragrance seemed to have traveled our way from a distant place.

At this juncture, I would like to say, I had really wanted to begin writing this piece by seeking your attention and mentioning Greetings of July. We can still wish the same to each other; isn’t it? Greetings of July. Why should we leave the month feeling discriminated just because the first signs of a healthy monsoon are fading out fast! Let’s leave it to Mother Nature. She might have her own plans to organize the entry and exit of clouds. I hope when the clouds come next, they take a pause for some while. They can simply spend quality time with the skies, which spread over our city.

Our city comes alive in rains; I have been witnessing this phenomenon for the last four decades. Wouldn’t you like to see it come alive yet again? In fact, few days back when a storm had developed on the western coast, I had pulled out an umbrella. I had also sought the assistance of a friend to cover certain parts of our home’s exteriors with the blue colored plastic sheets. Our only goal was to protect those certain parts from leaking.

Speaking about leakage, mom and I sat discussing those days of our lives, we spent in heavily leaking homes. We would not dread the monsoons; but, we would certainly dread the repercussions of rains. You may also laugh at me, while I confess that I still see those homes in my dreams. Even in dreams, I see them leak, a lot more profusely. The leakage was rampant during this particular month of heavy downpours; the month of July. Now, here’s this July. We are waking up to sunshine every morning; bright and happy sunshine. Am I complaining against the sunshine? No, it is not my nature to complain against Mother Nature. I am just wondering, if we are missing the rains or the rains have given our city a miss. This prolonged phase of cloudless skies and rain-less surroundings leaves the heart wrenched. Since we are still inside our homes; just imagine staring out of the window to catch a glimpse of the rains and its unmistakable melody.

The month of July as we have known it throughout our lives has always packed a surprise. Maybe the July of 2020 too has some surprises in store for us. So, as I reach the last part of this post, I am staring out of the window. Our gallery is looking brighter; not because of the sunshine alone! The picturesque bloom of fresh marigolds has changed the otherwise somber mood. Just like the marigolds keep coming back to make us smile; this month of July shall also return to its full bloom. The clouds would return; so would the rains. Till then, let’s celebrate July and be happy about turning another leaf of our lives.

- Virtuous Vociferous | What If | 2020

The last six months and the next six months

Picture courtesy: Google

It is time to start writing

the story of the

next six months.

It is 1 A.M when I start writing this. By the time I finish writing this, the time might have changed.

But does time really change? Or we use it as a metaphor to talk about the changes, which keep taking place in our life and in the lives of others. Just think about it.

By the time you start thinking, you will realize that there’s a change in the date and in the day.

It is June 30^th. The last day of this month, which also marks the completion of the last six months or the first six months of 2020.

You might now say, ‘Time flies’. Should I then ask, ‘Does time really fly?’

Please don’t mind my questions. I am not questioning you alone. I question myself too. In the last six months, I’ve questioned myself more than I’ve questioned anyone else ever. Did I find answers to my questions? I haven’t; at least not in the last six months. Now, if you ask me about the next six months. I may just remain quiet. Or I may speak plenty. You might then ask me to simply Shut up. I won’t mind being reprimanded.

Would you mind, if I tell you, January 1^st arrived in style. It was a good beginning, isn’t it? Yes, it was. At least I ushered in the New Year in style; hugging, singing, celebrating and of course with a glass of fine wine. The food was cooked with so much love; the memory of its delectable taste hasn’t faded. Going by my fondness for food, I am not going to let it fade either.

Then came February and that quick trip to Kolkata. Accompanied by most loved friends, the joy of being at the Book Fair grew manifold. We went sightseeing, shopping, tram hopping, bus hopping, train hopping. In March, the road trip to Aurangabad again turned out to be exceptional. So much happiness in the first three months; all of which, if transliterated would earn the status of being magnificent.

Unaware of a fast approaching crisis; still footloose and free; in a mood to explore, we were on one-of-its-kind of a joyride. By mid of March, everything changed. The change continues. Some of my friends, family members and loved ones said, ‘Times have changed’. I asked them that question again, ‘Does time really change?’

Of course, they said. They went on to say, ‘Time has changed for us. Time has changed for the world. Time will change for you.’ But, I as ask again, ‘Is time changing or is it us changing?’

This debate won’t end so soon. This debate has been going on for the last six months. In the next six months, this debate might grow fatter with a new layer of interpretation. But I am interested in knowing, if I will ever stop being in question!

So, it is June 30^th. The pandemic hasn’t shown any signs of retreat. The lockdown rules have been reinstated; the vaccines are still being tested in labs; nothing seems to be at as much risk as our level of patience.

We are done with the story of last six months. It is time to start writing the story of the next six months. Some words have already come flying our way - #NewNormal, #StayHomeStaySafe, #LockdownDiaries, #BeSelfReliant, #TameTheDragon, #BeThereForSomeone. There will be newer words. There will be newer thoughts. And there will be a new time? I will be there, asking a new question – Is there anything of that sort called New Time?

So, till you start engineering a reply or orchestrating an answer; let me go ahead and publish this post. Because June 30 will be with us and we will be with it, only for a day. It will take another 365 days to meet the next June 30 (provided 2020 ends on a good note and 2021 promises Good Life).

- Virtuous Vociferous | June 30 | June Blog-2 | What If | 2020

What is the next new thing?

A perception of the outer world on my soft board.
The theme for this whole month is ... WHAT IS THE NEXT NEW THING?
Words: Michelle Obama, BECOMING documentary, Netflix
Art and Photography by: Purnesh Bhattacharya

2020 is a horror story

with surprises

beyond imagination.

-Camelia

When I posted this question on my Instagram update titled ‘NEXT NEW’ on my handle @instapuruinsta, my friend Camelia didn’t waste a second to reply somewhat this way:

The idea of what is in store for us this year is so terrible that I don’t want to know. 2020 is a horror story with surprises beyond imagination.

So true. There has been no dearth of surprises ever since we welcomed the New Year with the magical numbers of 2020. So does this year stand as the year we didn’t expect, imagine or foresee? Replies and interpretations will always stand mixed in their own sphere.

The question (WHAT IS THE NEXT NEW THING?), I pose in here is not of my own. I discovered this question in the 2020 documentary ‘BECOMING’ aired on Netflix this year. The documentary is an intimate journey of Michelle Obama's life, hopes and connection with others during her tours to promote her book of the same name ‘BECOMING’. The question arises and fades out in a flash. During one of the many interviews featured in the documentary, Michelle Obama is seeing musing over a question, which she modulates and repeats in her own signature voice – What is the next new thing? Since then, the thought within the question has stayed with me.

I kept asking myself the same question: WHAT IS THE NEXT NEW THING?

Consider the tough times we are surviving through and ask that question again: What is the next new thing?

Some words, some replies might automatically start floating in your mind.

•         A life, a little more mundane maybe
•         Lockdown after lockdown and some more days of lockdown
•         Louder debates and very less news
•         Bigger blames, shorter claims

I don’t think so anyone of us has a definitive reply to that question, which may also start sounding sickening at times: What is the next new thing?

The next new thing; we may have to think twice before hugging, embracing, kissing our beloved. The next new thing; smiles, expressions, emotions will continue staying hidden behind masks. The next new thing; travel will feature as the last item in the to-do lists of our things.

As restrictions are being eased, curfew hours are relaxed and the idea of freedom is renewed in twenty first century, we are found staring at a bleak portrait. Sometimes termed propaganda; sometimes hailed as achievement, this portrait is drenched in colors of discouragement. The sources of encouragement, inspiration and motivation also seems to have locked themselves behind doors, which have now started jamming.

Summers’ time is up. The new season of monsoon isn’t too far from knocking our doors. The umbrellas will be out and so will be new numbers of sufferers, new numbers of detected, new numbers of mortality and new numbers of recoveries.

As I conclude this blog post in here, I wish to ask myself this question again: WHAT IS THE NEXT NEW THING? I hope till the next time, I write again, we will be having a definitive reply, an encouraging answer to this question. Till then we have to take our health a little more seriously and may have to continue chanting - #StayHomeStaySafe.

- Virtuous Vociferous | June 08 | June Blog-1 | What If | 2020

A summer so different

Courtesy: Google

This summer

is definitely different

by all means.

It is tough to love summers! No matter how long you stay locked indoors, it is still tough to love summers. And no two summers are comparable. No two summers can be hotter or less hot than the other. No two summers can be more pleasant or less unpleasant than the other. Summers or in that case, every weather is unique by nature. But what about the SUMMER OF 2020. Well, what about it? Simply a memory maybe! Of having stayed indoors throughout the summer of 2020.

Summers; all of us will unanimously agree; no summer sounds as poetic as Bryan Adams had made it sound in his all-time hot song - SUMMER OF 69. He had sung and I quote:

Oh, when I look back now

That summer seemed to last forever

And if I had the choice

Yeah, I'd always wanna be there

Those were the best days of my life

How memorable that summer could have been to inspire an entire song of such intoxicating nature!

Maybe one year down the line, we would look back to this SUMMER OF 2020. By the same time, next year, we should hope that things would be fine; life would be great; travel would be colorful. And we might sing… That summer seemed to last forever; but those days were not the best days of our lives.

This summer is definitely different by all means. No news channel is reporting deaths due to sun stroke. But there are deaths being reported due to a pandemic. A pandemic which shattered a part of our winter, a major part of our spring and now has almost spoiled our entire summer. Airports are lying empty, railway platforms look lifeless, roads wear an abandoned look. Who knew that in the year of 2020; there will be no summer vacations; there will be no summer picnics; there will be no summer escapade to the hill stations; there will be no quick summer breaks by the seaside!

We didn’t dread any of the summers. We braved the odds. Many a times, our skins have turned red, infections have taken over, sweat has turned sticky and throats have run thirsty. Yet, we never wished to miss out on those summers as well. But we are left with no choice; it seems like we have to give this summer a miss.

Mangoes have gone live. Watermelons are trending. Bananas are being shared and mentioned. Yet the fun of eating them during this summer seems to have gone missing. We can only expect the fun to return next year. Hope is our only umbrella. Let us seek some shelter beneath it. Let us enjoy whatever is remaining of this summer; if not being outdoors, at least being indoors!

Maybe ten years down the line, when we would be seated in some corner of the world, we would look back to this summer and take a long breath. We will shut our eyes, think of the tough times and then get back to life to narrate that one story of a summer… A SUMMER SO DIFFERENT.

- Virtuous Vociferous | May 26 | May Blog-3 | What If | 2020

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