life

Solitude

/ sangeeta_chakladar / 2 Comments

Solitude, you are the lone bird above, soaring high,
You are  the caged bird, desiring to reach the sky,
You are the first drop of rain, on a parched piece of land,
You are imprisoned, in an hour glass, like a grain of sand.

Solitude, you are in my mother’s eyes, waiting tirelessly for me,
You are in someone’s broken heart, weeping alone, by the sea,
You are in a little boy’s smile, when he sees the shooting star,
You are in the old man’s stride, walking homeward , very far.

Solitude, you are in the midnight silence,of a busy city street,
You are in those countless waves, thrashing at the rock’s feet,
You are in that crimson light of dawn, waking up from sleep,
You are hiding like a tiny tear drop, lost in the ocean’s deep.

Solitude, you are with a lone soldier, on guard, near the fence,
You are in a sailor’s heart, searching the shore with his lens,
You are on a poet’s mind, amongst the hills and meadows,
You are a silent prayer by the night, with a grieving widow .

Solitude, you are in the echoing chants of Gurbani, by the day,
You are in the evening azan, welcoming the evening to stay,
You are in the shlokas , flowing like music in a melodious voice,
You are sitting within the Chappell, tuning to my inward noise.

Solitude, you are in my absolute silence, you are in my chaos,
You are in my joyful reverie, you are laced with pathos,
You are in my drama, you are in my shameless fall and peak,
Solitude, you are my treasured companion, it is you I forever
seek.

On the verge

/ sangeeta_chakladar / 4 Comments

The cacophony of relentless hammering thoughts,
Kept echoing in her delirious, confused mind.
A deluge of words, but all twisted in tight knots,
Struggling to hold on, yet breaking in a slow grind.

She wanted to frame those words in beautiful lines,
But they kept escaping her, it felt just like treason.
She wanted to evoke her faithful words sublime,
But her words were gone without any reason.

She sensed she was forgetting to remember ,
Her days were no more clearer than her nights.
With each day she felt like a dying ember,
Fleeting memories vanishing in a bright light.

The people had flocked from far and wide,
They were eager to hear her speak.
They had waited long by her ailing side,
But she could feel, her chances were bleak.

Her eyes once twinkled with abundance of life,
Those empty eyes now searched their face.
Trying to remember her own story of strife,
To reach out once more for some lost trace.

In this vast emptiness one thought kept knocking,
Remembering a voice, a promise, amidst this dilution.
Perhaps he was a lie, her memories merely mocking,
Like her tales, he was but a figment of her imagination.

She kept staring blankly, his face drifting near and far,
From this pain of oblivion, no one could give her relief.
Now so lost, but once she was a poetess, a rising star,
And in her eyes now reflected deep empty pools of grief.

Waiting people ; their impatience, their restlessness ,
She could feel it spreading through her room.
Their failed disguise, their hidden distress,
Hushed whispers of the impending gloom.

Through all the pain of incoherent loss, she waited ,
She waited for him to reach her door, one day.
Through all her struggle of remembering forever muted,
She would not know, it was her words that had pushed him away.

Crystal Gaze

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Crystal Ball on Waves. (Philadelphia Museum of Art)

A tiny room, the walls filled with colourful motifs of flowers,
A gypsy lady sitting within, like one dwelling in her bowers.

A twinkling ray of sunshine was touching the crystal-ball,
In that twinkling light of silver, it held secrets of one and all.

Dark blue eyes fixed on the crystal-ball, she sat across me.
Time had frozen, it seemed we were part of an endless eternity.

Waiting for her gypsy blue eyes to read my life in a crystal gaze,
My story was simple and yet the crystal slowly seemed to haze.

I was there to ask the questions,but the answers I almost knew,
To hear it from a crystal-ball, that my days were left but few.

Transfixed, for long I sat in a daze , my impatience hypnotized,
She was humming ever so softly , my own name I recognized.

Which lines on my face or my sunken eyes spoke to her first,
Who betrayed my story;  to quench her curious thirst. 

I smiled and she knew, I was not there to see my destiny,
‘Ke Sera Sera’ had taught me, the future was not ours to see.

In that crystal she fixed her gaze, I saw no magic or amaze,
Hidden behind those blue eyes I saw a fire burning ablaze .

In a halting voice she went on, things I was not ready to hear,
Letting go of life’s desires , to conquer and surmount fear.

My desire to drive away lonely hours of melancholic pathos,
My desire to fill those hours with laughter, noise and chaos.

If this be my last wish, let me hold on to them till I fall apart,
Tell the crystal-ball to rewrite my story from the very start. 

My gypsy lady smiled again, a soft smile, spreading on her face,
She let me out of her spell with gentle humour and grace.

The crystal-ball was once again gaining back its shine,
Bright and clear it was ready to read between the lines.

My love for life was not a lie, but it was time for goodbyes,
In the journey of realization I walked alone without any ties.

A Beach Day

/ sangeeta_chakladar / 3 Comments

I am your beach. I have come to share my side of the story today. No, I am not mute or dead. I am alive, I live by your side everyday, waiting for you, rejoicing with you, yet you do not know me.  When you walk on my sands and sing your favourite songs , I want to sing along with you. When the lovers sitting together gaze out into the sea, I become one in their togetherness. I witness all the love stories and the heart breaks you unknowingly share with me . You are not alone when you feel sad and lonely, walking in a melancholic mood; I try to tickle your feet with my slippery sand, just to bring a smile on your lips. Yes, you do not recognize me ever, but your tears, smile, laughter, talk, stay back with me forever. And in the darkness of the night, when everyone goes back home, I bring out my precious shells and within its heart I transfer all your secrets and toss the shells back into the ocean, to stay there forgotten, forever.

Hey, let me sway the pensive mood to something more interesting. Allow me to tell you my experiences, secrets and stories. But you have to promise me that whatever I share with you today will stay “tere mere beech mein”. No spreading beach rumours around the town. Let this be our secret pact, to be beach buddies.  

I will share a secret which no one knows. We, the beaches all around the earth stay connected. We know what goes on where. We have our own network system of communication. Take the sand for example, they are such big travelers!  And while sand travels, they carry tales from one beach to the other. The deep secrets and gossips of the thrashing waves brings us news from every ocean far and wide. And the unending canopy of the sky, reflects all our emotions. We just need to look up to the sky, our messenger! 

Holidays and Sundays people rush out to spend a day on the beach. They come in big groups and small, the families with their umbrellas, towels ,music, and their noisy children. Oh, these children, though I love them the most, but they keep digging at my heart. Why do they have to carry their little shovels, buckets and start digging out my sand ? I know it is a game for them, but it hurts. And what is this craze to build these sand castles on the beach? I just do not understand. If you ask me frankly, none of them look like a castle to me. But what do I know of castles, I am just a beach, waiting to be washed back again and again into the sea.

Have you seen the beaches in Goa? Oh, you must have, they are so famous all over the world. I hear that Goa beaches are always in a party mood, how lucky are they, seeing all the tourists, excitement, and partying every single day. Some say that the Goa beaches do not sleep at night. It could be a rumour,  I am not sure. Stories of the Goan beaches sometimes makes me a little envious. But being a beach has its advantages, feelings don’t last for long. Envy, joy, sadness, no matter whatever is the emotion, the sea comes and washes it all away. Leaving the beach sparkling clean, ready for a new day, always. 

The white sand beaches of Miami, Maldives, Railay and so many other exotic foreign locations, are beautiful no doubt but they are also the naughty beaches of our clan. How easily they flirt with the bikini clad pretty women and gorgeous looking men, lying whole day on the beaches half clothed,  making the warm sand sizzling hot with their presence!  I have also heard scandalous tales of these people covering themselves fully with sand, what a sight it must be. But it is okay, I am not very flirtatious by nature. On the contrary, I have a little religious bend of mind. What with all the Gods and Goddesses being immersed in the sea round the year, my beach mentality gets a little influenced. My tolerance and patience levels are better than many other beaches that I know of. 

I think you have guessed by now, I am your amchi Mumbai beach. I love being the beach of Mumbai. Like a mother I have seen Mumbai grow around my beaches over the years. But somedays I get tired of this burden of population. I long for those clean, wide, shinning sandy beaches of Mumbai from the past. Now, when people cover every inch of my sand on a Sunday evening, I feel like screaming out for some air. They come in hoards,  they trample me, they suffocate me, they throw around their empty bottles and packets on my face. After their merry making they go back into their city lanes. In that darkness of the night , I stand alone, crying tears of pain. I wait for the sea to come, to wash me clean, all over again.  But for how long will the sea engulf your discarded load. The sea is getting choked every day. I stand silent and helpless watching the sea changing it’s colour,  turning a shade of grey darker day by day. 

Tomorrow again the sea will come to wash me clean. I will wait for you once again to come and spread your happiness in every grain of my sand. I do not want to be a lonely, lost beach on an island, far away in the middle of an ocean. I want to be with you, in this city of yours. I want to hear you talk, I want to tell you my endless stories, to watch sunsets  with you and your grandchildren. For that beautiful future together, let us pledge to take care of each other forever.

A Beach

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The waves had long receded, the beach was breathing free,
The tiny crabs drawing on the wet sand, a beautiful tapestry.

But the high tides soon brings the thrashing waves back,
Rushing in and washing away every trace in its track.

Shells hiding a life within, waiting for the waves to return,
Journeys back into the depths, where the deep waters churn.

Left back on the beach are some broken, abandoned shells,
Whispering tiny echoing sighs as the raging water swells.

Footprints on the sand are but guests, who will not stay,
What ever written on the shores soon gets washed away.

Day dawns, filling the beach with the glorious sights of life,
Sun set hours, twinkling stars, and the beach shuts its eyes.

The beach sinks in slumber, resting in the arms of the night.
To be awakened into another tomorrow by the sea gulls flight.

Beach and ocean, endless love, forever on each other’s side,
Sparkling sand and oceans blue, in togetherness they abide.

Melting

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Mountain range

The mountain peaks at dawn, glistening like a white dress,
From my perched window, it seemed to be heaven’s address;
Melting in the warmth of day, the glacier softening its snow,
Meandering along gently forward, yet none could see it flow.

I gazed and gazed and in my heart , I felt some desires
melting away, like the flowing snow!

The sun softly coloured the western sky in molten gold,
I stood transfixed seeing the hues, which the rays had unfold,
Each ray of warm crimson, slowly melting into the deep lake,
Touching the core of every ripple, till it bled red with ache.

I gazed and gazed and in my heart, I felt some deep seeded
anger melting away, like a pain waiting to go!

Evening Azaan from a far away mosque filled the air around,
The praise of Allah permeating and melting ; music profound!
I turned away from the window, and walked into my room,
To light a candle at my altar, to fill it with jasmine bloom.

I gazed and gazed and in my heart, I felt some greed melting
away, with the ebbing echoes by the evening light!

The melting candle at the altar, drops of wax gently pouring,
In meditative silence I waited, to feel the heart beats soaring,
Soaring into those lofty realms where the mind begs to reside,
In the lap of nature, in a world without any forceful divide.

I gazed and gazed and in my heart, I felt some attachments
melting away, in that darkness of the night!

The darkness of the night indulging the sparkling stars,
From dawn to night I stood and stared into a horizon very far.
I melted with the hours and followed the day like a sage,
I learned from every spec bestowed upon earth’s endless stage.

I gazed and gazed and in my heart, I felt some pride melting
away, in that humbling silence of gratitude.

Resilience

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A story of a nation ,
Leaning on the mighty Himalayas and Hindukush,
Which fought to stop every invaders’ push.

A story of a nation ,
Seeing the world walk into its inner courtyard,
Believing in the silk routes’ trading facade.

A story of a nation ,
With resilience and valor trying to save its lands,
Saving its integrity from the tight grip of the British hands.

A story of a nation ,
To stand up with head held high, after each battle pain,
To uphold deep seeded resilience, time and again.

A story of a nation ,
Which marched for Swaraj with a steel resolve of tolerance,
Broken in two and yet celebrated independence.

A story of a nation ,
Often dwindling and crumbling into fragmented quarters,
And building again from those gathered mass of shatters.

A story of a nation ,
Where amidst unity thrives diversity’s endless scope,
Where hearts are filled with strong resilience and hope.

A story of a nation ,
Where a resilient populace marks its presence strong,
Swaying the national flag and singing the national song.

This is the story of my country, young but centuries old.
My nation is my pride, and has endless stories untold.

Sail Away

/ sangeeta_chakladar / 4 Comments

At the darkest hour before the dawn, I stood by the sea,
The waves were covered in a burnt-grey sky’s canopy.
In the darkness of that hour, there emerged a lone boat,
With fishermen swaying in motion, to keep the vessel afloat.
The winter wind made me shiver, but I waited in a trance,
Watching the men ready their boat, for the ocean-dance.

Fearful of the swelling waves, fearful of that sombre hour,
I wanted them to wait a while, till the day’s crimson shower.
I called out to them, or so I thought, in my fearful lost state,
They did not wait or stop for me, for I was not a sailor’s mate.
My whisper didn’t reach their ears, my voice did not carry far,
I stood alone with the sky and sea and a lonely northern star.

They were not my own brothers, from near or far-away life,
Yet I felt an oneness with them, I was akin with their strive.
In a heavy rhythmic motion they pulled their seasoned oars,
Pulling their tiny vessel far, far away from the sandy shores.
Their life, fate and friendship entwined with the waters-deep,
In these waves they learn to dance, to smile and to weep.

I stood by the shore, watching them sail away from my vision,
In to the deep, where sky met the sea, or was it but an illusion.
My heart kept echoing to the dark mist, to raise its heavy veil,

Pleading with the sun to rise soon,  then safely they could sail.

Their needs! mere and frugal,their hearts filled with pride,
For each new day they greeted the waves, to play and to ride.

Like a lover’s call the mighty waves thrash on a barren beach,
To woe a sailor and take him away, far from the lands reach.
They unite, hidden from our eyes, there where no one can see,
With no ties of the land, in the lover’s arms a sailor is set free.
In grey fathom less waters, they find rainbow colours hue,
The sparkling sun, dressing the sea, in diamond studded blue.

They sang in chorus, singing a song of faith and fortitude ,
They oared in symphony, filling hearts, with sublime gratitude.
I stood quiet, hearing their song, and seeing them fade away,
The sea was roaring, it was a call , every sailor must obey.
I stood numbed, seeing them go, bidding a silent adieu,
They lived a life of glorious challenges, gifted only to a few.

Void Within

/ sangeeta_chakladar / 2 Comments

When there is a void within,
No happy thoughts can knock.
When there is a void within,
Every smile seems to mock.
When there is a void within,
Roads neither meet nor cross.
When there is a void within,
All thoughts drown in pathos.
When there is a void within,
No garden bloom looks blushed.
When there is a void within,
Voices around are softly hushed.
When there is a void within,
Music brings melancholic tears.
When there is a void within,
Eyes brim with untold fears.
When there is a void within,
Sunshine does not touch.
When there is a void within,
Vision blurs in raindrop’s smudge.

Wake up and fill your void,
With purpose and delight,
Wake up and fill your void,
With the maker’s glorious light.

When there is a void within,
Seek another lonely soul.
When there is a void within,
To bring a smile, be your goal.
When there is a void within,
Fill it up with faith and trust.
When there is a void within,
Stand stoic against wind’s gust.
When there is a void within,
Flow like the river flows.
When there is a void within,
Grow like a tiny grass grows.
When there is a void within,
Sit with a child at play,
When there is a void within,
Splash the canvas with color’s spray.
When there is a void within,
Travel like the winds from desert to sea,
When there is a void within,
Let your soul soar high and set all chains free.

They Believed They Could… so they did.

/ sangeeta_chakladar / 2 Comments

Dear Parent,

This letter should have reached you much earlier, for it was my promise to you in my last blog that I would come back  with the graduation day saga. An overwhelming sense of gratitude and happiness had pushed me into a state of wordless inner  zone. I saw the children graduate, yet could not put everything I saw and felt into words so easily. Chalk and Cheese have been thrown into an opulence of emotions lately , and getting back to the blackboard and chalking away Cheese stories needed some composure and time.

The batch of 2020, 2021and 2022 graduated together. The pandemic delayed life, but the university did not let their students down, the celebrations took place with the grandeur they deserved. The young girl or boy you had said goodbye to from home, a few years back, finally  graduated from the university. I saw them all. In my eyes they were just like young children running between Squirrel Hill and Shady Side, crossing signals at Walnut street and Hazelnut street, either with a grocery bag from Giant Eagle or a bagpack on their slightly drooping shoulders. I saw your child and mine. A bunch of young people, happy, confident walking down the streets of the city, the corridors of their university buildings at ease with themselves and their surroundings. They were young adults  (much beyond our recognition) living a life filled with dreams in their eyes and the confidence to fulfill those dreams.

Chalk and Cheese were welcomed with open arms to take a peek into this world that belonged to our children. A university campus is just not an educational institution, it becomes a second home for the students as well as the teaching faculty. These modern day Gurukuls train young minds to achieve their dreams in these absolutely beautiful  campuses with fully advanced and brilliantly supported technological emenities. Each year the university gates open to welcome new students and to bid goodbyes to the passing out batches. The professors stand by the students like strong pillars, guiding them, teaching them and giving them confidence as their friend, philosopher and guide. In those long ,silent , solemn corridors of learning , I saw the Goddess of knowledge being worshiped in a focused, calm and almost meditative mode of concentration.

When a family decides to send their child away from home to an academic institution, whether within the country or in a foreign country , it is not an easy decision to make . Beyond the pursuit of a degree alone every parent wants to see their children achieve certain goals and dreams in life. Long after a child leaves home the empty rooms echo with with their laughter, the empty kitchens echo with their tantrums, and the parent’s heart echoes a lonely tune all through long drawn summer afternoons and cold winter nights. The changing seasons do not bring in Dusshera, Diwali, Holi with the same fervour and happiness ,instead parents change calendars with fall, winter, and spring of a foreign land. They live through the same anxieties and tensions ( which their children feel) of first semester, second semester, and all the way to the final semester. At the end of this long journey, D day arrives, and as the scholars wear their robe and hood, the father takes out his old but neatly ironed coat, and the mother pins on a saree kept aside for this special occasion.

While the parents and family back home coped and adapted to their changed life, the children too faced their share of challenges. Life changed for them all at once, new country, new people, new friends and new ways of life. They learn to cook, clean, manage money and all this without once complaining. The new rigorous academic program starts on immediately, and falling  back in class is not a negotiable option. So the climb is uphill right from the very start. This next generation of amazing individuals have the ability to  handle difficult situations with a calm head and clear disposition in a way which is way beyond my comprehension.But one thing these young adults could never learn ; they never learnt how to lie when they had to  answer that one repeated question from home : ” khana khaya  ?” or  “Did you eat ? ” Their half smiling mumble always gave away their truth.

So here we were Chalk and Cheese sitting upright in the audience to be a witness to this culminating day of the journey we had all started together. In this vast ocean of scholars there was no ‘ yours’ or ‘ mine’, there was no country, ethnicity, community or colur which could divide them.  Every single student had earned their day and hour on the podium. The honour to wear the robe and the hood, the honour to march in unison to a live band playing just for them, the honour to drown in the applause coming from the audience gallery.How beautiful and happy the graduates looked together, moving slowly like waves , waving out to their families and friends.They were graduating from a prestigious university to carry on the lineage of the university into the world outside. It was a day of celebration. Celebration of perseverance, integrity, hard work, sacrifice wisdom and  accomplishment . This day will always be the first chapter of a new life of adulthood, a life they are so eager and joyous to embrace.

For the families and friends who were in the audience and also for all of them who could not be present, it was a big day of achievement. I could see in those young faces a reflection of their parents ;  as I hugged my son’s friends I knew they thought of you, their mother or father back home. When I saw a grandmother or grandfather waving and clapping all at once, I  knew the values and unconditional love which these young people had been blessed with. My eyes brimmed up again and again, through the blurred vision of a mother’s love I saw your child and mine walk the walk, stand tall, and accept  their graduation degree with utmost humility. I feel grateful that in my own small way I could be present to see and chronicle the best day of a scholars life. The incredible journey which these young graduates have made from far away homes upto this threshold of life was worth every mile of their travel.

This blog was not about graduation day alone. You and I too had graduated from colleges ,some day in the past. There will be fresh graduates every year. This blog was about the immense sense of fulfillment which a parent gets from seeing their child’s accomplishments. This was about passing on the responsibility of the baton in able hands of the future. The journey never ends. Life continues giving lessons at every turn and we keep learning forever.

Yours emotionally ,
Chalk and Cheese ,
(Parent).

PS:  Chalk is as emotional as Cheese about this day and all the mushy feelings that goes with it.