Education and Wisdom

I don't remember the day I have started my education by scribbling some letter on a slate. That was my starting. But, after appearing the final exam of MSc, the first thing I did was I called my mother and said "first part is complete". She laughed because she as well as me, both of us knew what I was planning at that time. I had a great dislike for company jobs. I wanted to learn more and also wanted to be self-dependent. At least I thought then, enough book reading, lets learn some real life application. It left me only with the educational line, research or teaching.

Little did I know that I am just starting a journey to the arena of wisdom. You know what the people starting climbing a ladder think... Oh, its fine. Its OK. Its nothing big. Common man, I can do it. I have the cally, So what is there to worry for? People on the middle steps of the ladder don't know what to say to these initiating fellows. It depends more on their mental state what they are going to advice. If they are frustrated, they will say, "What do you think you are doing? Don't come. It is too difficult to accomplish". Or may be they can say "Its OK. Try your luck. Pray, you are capable of climbing it", if still they are left with some hope of finishing their task. But only the people who are just two steps away from the final step of the ladder know how difficult it is to climb continuously at the expense of energy, time and determination. They don't speak or think. They only climb Because they are just focussed for the final step.

You will find good analogy between climbing a ladder and doing PhD. Initially you are bubbling with energy. No fixed books, no classes, no assignments, and no exams. How good. Read according to your taste. Do what you want to do. You will just feel "lets do it". But after sometimes, probably one year, you will start asking yourself, "What I am doing? Am I doing anything meaningful at all? Is it worth doing? Great Initialization into doubts! Slowly you will feel you are getting immersed into a different world. Where only you, your books and your lab exist. Plainly you don't have any existing life other than your research. Its like the people on the middle steps of a ladder. You are sometimes hopeful, sometimes frustrated and sometimes confused about your own findings. Gradually, you will start thinking 24 hours a day about your PhD, start dreaming about unsolved problems and start self-talking. The ultimate signs of the fact that you are destined to be a mad scientist.  People say it permanent head damage aka PhD.

You will find there is no boundary of knowledge and you are swimming in the ocean of wisdom. Mathematics mingles with Anthropology and you are trying to solve biology with statistics where everything is based on predictions. There is no boundary. Only sky is the limit. Like the ocean never stops mesmerizing you, everyday you will come across something new. How nice. Now, I am remembering about a conversation, I had with my favorite cancer biology teacher during my under graduation days. He was a nice fellow and I used to admire him like anything. We were discussing something and suddenly he asked me about my future plans. I said "want to learn new things forever". He stared at me and said, "You mean you want to go in research line". I said may be. Nothing was fixed then. He narrowed his eyes, studied me for sometimes and than said, "Not bad. But, you know, when you watch a green leaf and see only the chlorophylls (the green pigments that make leaves green) that is valid research. You need to open your third eye for doing re-search. Everything is then and there. You have to see it in a different angle". Being the fool I am, I was unable to understand the statement. But now after two years into research line, I can very well understand what his words meant that day. "There is no boundary for wisdom. Do not read and accept blindly. Start asking yourself questions like what, when, how, why and where? Search it, feel it and realize it. This is the work of the third eye". Thank you sir for your nice advice. So now I am in preparation of climbing fourth step of my ladder. May be after some more steps, I will not be left with enough energy to type down such kind of maverick thoughts. Do pray for me.

Some hours amidst Clouds

From the last couple of years, I always happened to be found associated with planes. My MSc hostel was situated nearby an airport. Many hot summer nights me and my friend from Microbiology, spent watching the planes, ascending, descending and gyrating midair. We used to spot a particular plane in the late evening everyday. My friend had a humor that his future prince charming is going abroad in that plane. God help the prince charming... I never understood how come he is flying everyday. I mean, imaginations also must have some realistic basis. But my friend as adamant as she is, never tried to understand this :). Such were student time fantasies.

She always became dreamy eyed watching the plane and I always laughed watching her drama. Sometimes I wondered whether she is in love with the person inside the plane or the plane himself. Later, I came to know of that she was more interested in flying and there was never a real prince charming in picture :). No wonder, 5 years down the line, she is the busiest classmate whizzing past 4 countries for her work and still single. I just hope, she will refrain herself from punching me in the nose, next time we meet for revealing her prince charming facade.

Well... Post MSc, Again I landed in another state, for my research where the airport happened to be nearby. My paying guest accommodation was on top floor of a building. The roof ensured a full view of the runways and tarmacs. Power cuts, summer nights, night walks on the roof, on many occasions, I was blessed with the vision of clouds, starry nights and planes. On many occasions I tried to capture some of them. Alas, my mobile camera is of very bad quality in capturing night visions :).

Anyway, 2 years down the line, even my little brother, had the experience of flying several times due to his tight exam schedules. But I was the one left with only watching the planes at night. Life flows in its own way. Then finally, one day, as one of my professors pointed out, it would not have been better than this, I got the chance to visit another small country island via a top world class airline to deliver a lecture about my work :).

Suddenly I found, all the memories flashing back to my mind. The experience was unique in its own way. There were many first times. Fist time flying, first time abroad exposure, and first time friends from other countries and not to mention the first time for so many twisted pronunciations of English :). But most prizing were a few hours, before landing in that country amidst heavy cloud. The beauty was something else. It was so breath taking, that I will never be able to explain it with words. The moment will always be ached in my memory as one of my best moments, surrounded all around with strange patterns of puffy pure clouds. I felt like I was in a cloud-themed movie set. It was heavenly. I got tempted beyond my measures to pick up a handful of them and eat or atleast smell :). I, and my silly ideas. The night vision of my own country was the icing on cake while returning :). For the first time, I felt very proud for the warmth and loving people of my country. I was happy, coming back again to my own place, own people and own culture. The result: I happily paid my cabby almost double his wage as tip , thinking he is also fellow country man in need of encouragement :).

Rats of my Lab

One fine morning people in my lab discovered some muddied foot prints of some unknown animal on their papers and print outs of previous night. A matter of concern. More investigation is carried on. Footprints are found in walls, desks and many other places. In next 2/3 days a lot of running and screeching sound came from the tiled roof of the lab. Conclusion came that rats have infested the lab. Now what to do? Mass opinion came that head of the unit should be informed about this. People went to his cabin and informed the matter, "Sir, rats are there in lab 3. Some action must be taken against them." He got tensed, closed his eyes and started shaking his head, " With each shaking came a question in Bengali that posed real danger to burst your stomach with laughter." Hmmm Kohta Idhhur tomhra dekhechho? (tell me exactly how many rats have you seen?)" Whether he intended to take action against only the rats seen by us, and leave the others, I don't know! "Kothay dekhechho? (Where have you people spotted the rats?)" It seemed he was interested to do one to one mapping between the lab mates and the rats for his next work! May be he thought to establish some correlation between activities of the rats and us. Anyway one of us stated that he have seen two of the rats running near his seat in the lab. One enthusiastic professor chimed into this "Oh, It seems rats sit beside you to encourage you while you work." Some muffled quiet mental laughter happened. Head spoke again "Na bhabhte hobe idhhur ghulo tomadehr labe e keno jabe? (Why the rats will only go to you people's lab?)" No answer. We are baffled. How come we are answerable for some thing the rats did? Some more shaking of head and then pat came the observation from him. "Amra to oder janno kichhu e chadchi na... Ohra aar kothae jabe? (We are not living anything for them... Where they will go then?)" More pondering over the issue continued. Dear head took some more extra tension and assured all of us that some action will be taken against the rats. We returned contended.

Chapter did not end here. Rats became the main topic of discussion of the day. All the professors, research fellows and project personnels' minds pondered over the issue continuously. Some talked about the ancient ways used in their home by their grand parents to control pests. Some even went the extra mile by searching over possible rat killing methods in google.  as usual nothing came out of all those efforts.

Next thing happened was a grainy looking short statured person entered our lab two days later and proudly declared "Idur marte asechi (came to kill the rats). For the time being we can refer him as Idur Mara Manab (Rat Killer- RK). Kothae idur? (Where are the rats?)" RK asked. We pointed the tentative places where previously some activity was seen. The cupboards and some locked cabins etc. Dham... Dham... Dhadam... He opened all the cupboards with much noise. It is necessary to say here that we the lab species (Homo sapiens labiens) are quite sophisticated, sitting in AC and working in silence for some last years. Noise did not suit us well. We need peace to rotate our mental wheels. Anyway he deftly inspected the footprints. Nodded his head few times to our amusement and declared "Thik idur hoyeche (Right guess Rats are there)" as if we don't know. Now his options came one by one. "Achha apnara ki chaan? idur tadate chaan ki idur dharte chaan na ki idur marte chaan (What do you people want? You want to expel the rats or catch them or kill them)." So many options. According to him there is a spray to prevent the rats from coming to the lab. But it is temporary and has to be done in phases. For the whole unit he will take Rs 1200/- per one spray. Quite costly. Next came catching the rats. In first phase a rat catching machine will be planted in the lab. Seemed like a good idea. But then the second phase is most horrid. Once the rats get caught, one have to blind fold and leave them at a distant place or directly submerge them in water till death. Not our cup of tea! Only the option of using some rat kill poison was left. The idea appeared wise to us. Let the rats eat poison and die somewhere else. Next day the person brought some rat kill cake, broke into parts and threw in different direction of the tiled roof of our lab, pocketed some money and vanished speedily. We were again contented... the rats will die now.

Two days went. No proof of rats' dying came to us. We are regularly blessed with rat singing in the mornings and evenings. Another three days went by. People started looking at each other with question marks written over their faces whenever the rats screeched. But no more new footprints were spotted on papers and materials. But the rats are still in the lab somewhere hiding. They can cut our precious research material to shreds any night. Somehow rats are cohabiting forcefully with us.

On the other hand I think, thay are typical research rats, intelligent like us. May be a few of them have eaten the poison, suffered and died somewhere else. This incident generated a signal of no more eating of the suspicious substance among the rest of the rat population. They become cautious and no more deaths resulted. An impressively speedy way of reinforcement learning? " Interesting!

Heritage Kolkata

Kolkata or Calcutta... What may be the spelling a picture comes to mind of old buildings in numerous gullies. Tea shops. People drinking cups of tea in earthen pots (called "bhad" locally) with toasts of square size breads 3 rupees per piece. The scattered fruit vendors urging you to buy some of their sellables.

Dusty lanes, where people swarm for many tasks. Garbage and cow dung smell will greet you wherever you go. Flyovers and bridges criss cross the straight roads. Busy streets with mad rush of crowd, hawkers selling lemon and orange chocolates, pens and peeled amla flakes both raw and dried announcing the many good effects it will confer to your digestive system, look normal Rickshaw pullers, autos and taxis compete with each other for tiny bits of space in the road to speed away towards destination of their hirers.

Old buses coughing and squeezing run towards their goals while shaking like bharatnatyam dancers with every bone in their metal framework. Sometimes I feel every organ in my belly quarrelling with each other while traveling in such odd buses and end up exuding the precious food material given to me by Kakima, my dearest land lady.

Every morning there is heavy rush to reach office whether it is in Camac Street or MG road or Salt Lake. There is competition between buses. You have to sit and watch horrified the body shaking buses trying to outrun each other. You can sit in the front seat with the auto wallah and two unknown people and nobody with raise a eyebrow to you ( I have seen two of my malayali friend's eyes reaching middle of their forehead who watched me sitting like this).

Spent some more time in roads. You will see the double decker buses or you can stare at the city from a seat of famous or ill famous (from traffic slowing angle) trams. If you are a book lover go to College street, you will feel like being in heaven despite the crowd and don't forget to have some mudhi masla  or jhal mudhi there. It is available in its best form there My discovery!

The average bengali babus will be seen smoking a cigarette while standing in the bus stop or running behind a bus with his bag or bargaining for some object in a side street. His neat-ironed tucked in shirt groaning with every new crease resulted from people entering hurriedly in the bus or somebody pushing from behind. If you feel like going underground, Metro is there to greet you with its neat and timely smile every 10 minutes. You have the option to reach your destination in 15 minutes or 1 hour 15 minutes in this city.

If you are interested in history, Indian Museum, Belur math museum, Mahalanonis museum, the museum of Victoria Memorial and many more will welcome you with open arms. You can learn as well as complete your sight seeing.

Love religious places. Kalighat, Belur math, Birla and Dakhineshwar temple are must go places. Want some fun with your kids. Aquatica, Nicco park and Science city are there. You will have a great field day with children. Want a quite evening just sit in front of the dancing colorful water spring of science city and listen the old instrumentals. You will never know when it is time to leave.

Want to do some shopping. Go to Esplanade. You will get everything in every possible range there. Bada bazar is good for bulk buying, if you know where to get the thing or else take some experienced person with you. Sadly today also you can spot men-pulled rickshaws there. It seems part of Kolkata is refusing to accept technology boom. Hathi bagan is good for cutlery and pavement shopping. If you have a lot of money and don't know how to burn it and then head for City Center, Salt lake or the shops of Park Street. You will get rid of your money as well as buy many fashoinable things.  

Do not forget to visit some of the the sweet shops and taste the rasogullahs, sandesh and misti doi (sweet curd). Not eager for too much sweetness then go for a combo item of sour curd and bundi. It is a discovery of mine. Much lower in calories in comparison with the previous items and suits well to the guilty calorie conscious minds. You can also try the samosas, crisp fish fries and kathi rolls if nonvegetarian.

Go to a friend's house over lunch or dinner. You will get enough to eat starting from Sukhto, Alu bhaja, Ilish macher jhal (Hilsa fish curry), Kosha mangsho (Fried chicken/mutton) to sweet chuttney, small square sized pappads and sweets at the end.

Moreover want a feel of the city, switch on FM radio and tune to a bengali channel. With a little bit of luck, you can hear some good Bengali singers like Nachiketa, Silajeet and Rupankar. Whether it is Neelanjana or Priyatama or Phiriye dao you are going to enjoy it.

The best will be to attend a bangla band programme. Numerous hippy youngsters wearing odd costumes and ear-rings, pony tails and faded jeans with numerous cuts here and there tingling their guitars with all might with the drum beats and screaming their guts out over some indianized western song with perfectly broken sur and taal. But you will feel like back to your teenhood and no doubt that by the third song you will also start grooving with throbbing temples all excited and fresh.

 

At the end do not forget to take a stroll in the history famous Howrah Bridge. The gentle air coming from the river Ganga will blow your hair from its arranged precision and caress you like a mother of small sweet child. This is city Kolkata in my mind.

Despite my grammatically not correct pronunciations, hatred towards buses and incapability to read Bengali script, I am in love with this city, What is there in being Bengali or not, as long as you understand the people and feel like one of them. I say it is my Kolkata like the everyday Bengali says "Amar Kolkata".

PS: Not to forget the ferry rides of Kolkata. You can go directly from Howarh to Bagbajar Ghat, from where all places of North Kolkata are accessible. The rides are always fabulous whether taken in morning or noon or evening. Vast stretch of water staring you with its blue eyes and mesmerizing you. To my dismay I just dream it blue, but in reality it is dusty gray due to pollution. Another boat ride, I have taken many times is from Dakhineswar ghat to Belur Math. Say it coincidence or destiny, till date I have always taken this ride with the setting sun. The colors, the beauty and the harmony... I have no words to explain it. Better you feel it when next time visit Kolkata.

College Memories

Home sweet home. There is nothing more refreshing than taking a stroll in the roads of your hometown. The high and low roads where I have cycled in numerous times for going to school and college in wintry mornings decked up in sweaters or sunny noons bathing with sweat or cool afternoons enjoying the wind. Long ago my mother disposed off my bicycle (a trendy lady bird model) to a daily hawker. So no cycling now for me. But who can dispose the memories. Every time I pass those roads or my old college, a butterfly starts to flutter in my stomach. This time finally I collected my graduation certificate after long five years and with that ended an episode of my life. The times, I used to hang with friends, the poems we have written and shared with each other, the claps or the advices we all gave to each other, controlling someone's short temper and the hours spent in reading room either reading scientific american or jotting down previous years' questions. Now, after saying all this I am feeling like singing...

"Ye unn dino ki baat hai
jab pagal pagal rahte the..."

Care free sweet days were those loaded with future dreams. Five years down the line, some are married and no contacts with them. Some of them just vanished into nothing. Occasional phone calls to some stationed in other cities. That is what I have in the anme of my graduation friends. We are far away from each other. But, they will be always embedded in my memory and I know in the far land, I am also existing in their memory.

Music Therapy

I cannot imagine myself without music. After long workdays some soft soothing music tempts me more than anything. Just go home, have a glass of refreshing liquid of your taste and hear ghazals. They very well align with my tired and sleepy mood. The lines are so meaningful yet so simple. Like this one (Lyrics: Nida Fazli, Singer: Jagjit)

"Apni Marzi Se Kahan Apne Safar Ke Hum Hain
Rukh Hawaaon Ka Jidhar Ka Hai Udhar Ke Hum Hain

Pehle Har Cheez Thi Apni Magar Ab Lagta Hai
Apne Hi Ghar Mein Kisi Doosre Ghar Ke Hum Hain

Waqt Ke Saath Mitti Ka Safar Sadiyon Se
Kisko Maaloom Kahan Ke Hain Kidhar Ke Hum Hain

Chalte Rehte Hain Ke Chalnaa Hai Musaafir Ka Naseeb
Sochte Rehte Hain Kis Raah Guzar Ke Hum Hain "

This lines remind me my college days. In Zee TV a daily soap used to come named "Sailaab" with these lines as its title song. Some how the lines catched me and I am glued to the song from that day. Strangely enough this song vents away my sadness, tension and helpless feeling up to a large extent. Where are we from? Where we are going? Where it ends? Nobody knows. We just keep on walking as it is the only task a traveller can do when uncertain of the destination.

Another song that touches my heart very much is from film "Rog". There is some raw energy and sadness in this song that will grip you nonetheless where and in which circumstances you are in. Such powerful words.

Maine Dil se kaha dhund lana khusi
Nasamajh laya ghum, to ye gham he sahi

Bechara kahan janta hai
Khalis hai ye kya khala hai
Sahar bhar ki khusi se
ye dard mera bhala hai
Jasn ye raaz sunaye
maza to bas gham me aya hai

Kabhi hai ishq ka ujala
kabhi hai maut ka andhera,
batao kaun bhes hoga
me jogi banu ya lutera
kai chehren hain is dil ke

najane kaunsa mera

Hazaron aise fasle the
jo tair karne chale the
Rahi magar chal padi thi
aur piche hum rah gaye the
Kadam do chaar chal payen
ki ye phere tere manke

Maine Dil se kaha dhund lana khusi
Nasamajh laya ghum, to ye gham he sahi

(I was searching for some happieness but only ended up heart broken! How starnge it is, that sometimes we stick to the painful memories rather than moving on and celebrating life .

Sometimes there is glory of love,
sometimes silence of death,
I don't know which is mine
where I am supposed to go
So many facets of this heart,
who will tell where to lie low?

There was so much distance between us, we wanted to cover, yet before starting jouney, our roads moved apart. Just two steps, we took together and then left alone with the memories.)

So, buddies… feeling sad.. Turn on some music according to your taste and sleep tight. There is always a fresh morning that awaits the horrible gloomy night.

Home and Hostel

When I say my friends back home that I live in Kolkata and stay as a paying guest near my work place, the first reaction they give is a loud `wow'. Maximum of them have attended girls' schools, went to nearby colleges and then got married or waiting for marriage. They have never been to hostels or never faced any situation all alone. When ever in my holidays, I went to meet them or called them, they keep raving and chanting about how lucky I am for getting such a chance. How much independence I am getting. How I can do whatever I like, go places wherever I like and have ultimate freedom away from home. I just smile at them! They paint the rosy picture but thorns are always there with a rose. Hostel life brings a lot of insecurities with it. Though it may sound silly as a first timer, I faced a lot of pressure to maintain myself alone in a hostel. The thought of my mother not waking me in the morning was devastating to me. We used to have classes in morning in 7 o' clock and I used to sleep like a log of wood when others line for a bathroom. Next thing comes the stale quality of food. The cooks prepared food in morning. By late noon when all of us were almost dying of hunger after returning from our respective classes and practical sessions, the cold half shrunken rice with some watery dal and tasteless curry was all we can get. My case was more serious as I did not know how to talk properly with others, how to comb my curly long and ever unmanageable hair properly, how to dress well, how to wash cloth and more. The list was quite long for me to learn and time was quite short. Apart from that there were numerous study related assignments and lessons to keep up with.

Suddenly there was an enormous amount of vacuum around me where previously my mother, father and brother used to feature. There was no one to enquire about my progress every night. No one to give me a good hot glass of horlicks when I was dead tired after a whole day's running with classes and numerous tuitions. There was no one to sit beside me when I read and did my lessons in the night. No one to run after me asking numerous questions or always irritating me by doing something wrong always that I later discovered was deliberate and purely intentional. It is the hostel that taught me a lot of valuable lessons in life I came to understand that how pure and precious were those small little gestures that my family members showed me.

When the initial shock of adjustment and time management subsides, more grave issues like dealing with different kind of personalities comes abreast. At home along with many restrictions, many securities also lie. People at home don't stab at back or think of harming you in any sense. But at hostel these kinds of creatures are omni-present. Finding a good loyal friend to share your thoughts is most crucial. But slowly and steadily every one learns the hard way to thrive and cope in a hostel. Being in a hostel enables a person to experience a lot of things. One can attend the secret whole night get togethers, can watch people applying lipstick at 2' o clock in the night, skip to the roof after curfew hours and moreover sit transfixed in the bed for whole night when there is rumor that thieves entered the hostel premises. Isn't it funny?

After so many years of being outside home, it seems the most cozy and alluring place to me where I am still perceived as the silent little girl sitting in a corner with a storybook. What to say more. I cannot say all these to my old buddies back home. I don't have guts to smash their pinky imaginations. So better be this way and I smile at them.

Baby names and Googlability

I came across an interesting article in the daily news paper. A couple asked for suggestion for their yet to be born baby! Many people suggested names with their "googlabity value". Roughly speaking, the word refers to the quality of being easy to be located by search engines, specially www.google.com. They started describing how the name should be good for searching in google, it should be specific yet similar to some keywords, so that it can be well accessed by any search engine and all.

This is today's scenerio. I remember something my late grandma told me regarding this naming buisness of babies in old times. Lack of proper hygine, no understanding of ailments and diseases, blind believes lead to death of maximun babies. So, people believed in giving very odd and bad names to their children believing that Yamraj (God of Death) less prefers bad and ugly names. I just laugh while remembering some of the most given names at that time like Bantia (Vomit), Thupa (Saliva), Pecha (Unshaped) etc. All of these are names given to the male gender. The girls' names are more hilarious. Makhi (Small fly), Khani (wobbly mouth), Kalia pudi (tar- black), Nikha (egg of head lice) etc. People also believed in mutating ceratin parts of body of the babies just in a believe that they will not end up loosing the baby. They tried everything from ear piercing, cutting of one of the finger or tip, tatooing to skin burning by hot iron rods etc. Sounds horrible. But it existed in ancient orissa according to my grandmma.

How contrasting! What an improvement? Bad names to names with high googlabitity value. Certainly we are eating our share from the platter of computers and new technologies.

Happy new year 2009

happy happy new year

wishing you my dear

no chance for tears

waive all the fear

2009 is quite near

& do not forget to

say same to you dear.

Talking into Oblivion

Seminars, workshops and talks are integral parts of my life. Whether give or listen to one, if it is not interesting and imaginative, becomes mental torture. Out of courtesy one cannot walk out. So, people end up being sitted with vacant eyes, numerous yawns and haphazard scribbles in the notepads, silently praying to the speaker to end the presentation early. Somehow the talk ends. Then comes another embarrassing situation. Questions please. Now if anyone ended up not understanding a single word after the first two introductory sentences, how s/he is supposed to ask questions? The dignified speakers will smile, walk hither and thither encouraging people to ask questions. In the mean time the bored listener will feel like being an ultimate dumbo. I started making points of dos and don'ts, as speaking is part of my profession. These facts came to my mind slowly in discrete manner. You can say practically I wrote this blog while slugging in some these sessions.

If you are invited for a talk:

1. Make sure your topic is in alignment to the occasion's demand, otherwise refuse to accept the invitation outright.

2. Try to learn about the attendees' educational background and grasping power as far as you can. Delivering nitty gritys of computational biology to Microbiologists in a evolutionary biologists' gathering will definitely have high scopes of disaster, how hard you may try to please the audience.

3. Do not loose track. You can definitely talk a lot about diverse topics. But, mixing can be really annoying at times. Play safe.

4. Try to read your listeners' mind. Look for peripheral signs of boringness like vacant stares, frequent yawning, changing sitting positions every 5 minutes, studying the roof, looking at others and a notebook getting passed between multiple people. Definitely it will contain scribblings about how boring is the orator.

If found any, be sure you are at wrong venue and wrong place among wrong listeners. Try to skip as many slides as you can and finish the talk quickly. Believe me, It will be a respite to both the parties.

If the talk is successful, some tips for the Q and A session:

5. Do not comment back on silly questions. I know, they can irritate you, but your comments will affect other people intending to ask next. Be patient with the queries and try to explain them as simply as you can .Technical gizmos will puzzle the participants more

6. By chance, if you do not know answer to any question, be frank rather than babbling something inconvenient and unexplainable. You are also a human being at the end of the day. You possibly cannot know and remember everything on this earth. Humbly accept this fact.

If you are a participant, try not to:

7. Attend workshops less related to work. It will minimize the boredom definitely.

8. Frown at organizers and all, once you are there.

9. Show attitude. A smiling approachable face takes you a long way while interacting with other participants and organizers.

10. Show clustering tendency with other people of your parent institute. It will discourage other institutes' participants from interacting with you.

11. Skip sessions in lieu of sight seeing. You never know, when chance can happen and you'll encounter something worthful. Sight seeing can wait till the workshop ends.

12. Emphasize on food and photographs. They are not that important. A workshop/seminar is meant to open more doors in your mind. Other things can happen any time.

13. Try utilizing the opportunities or leave the scope for another deserving person rather than ending up in a boring arrangement.

At last I will say talk sensibly. Advocate for interesting talks and useful workshops. Be choosy and utilize your power in selective manner. Good Luck.

Value of life long morals...

Dear granpa was always more towards people outside his home. Helped neighbors, office colleagues and many other people in cost of hours that he should have spent cozily with his six children. Granny complained and complained. Finally she became mum regarding these matters. Gradually granpa became secretary of his office union. Next came the rickshaw pullers union outside his office. Then the industrial labor union. He immersed himself totally for public causes, grievances and development. He attended gatherings and conferences, made speeches, traveled profusely and smartly forgot his duties for his home. He got job promotions one after another in his office and dutifully refused to accept them. Sticked to one place and fought for people.

Still life persisted for his children. They supported each other, derived strength from their gene pool and courageous mother. As they grew, granpa sometimes encouraged them, derived satisfaction from their achievements. Still he was left with no time for home. Today all his offsprings are happily established in their self-made niches. All through these years only he worked for his people. Yes I have heard it many times from him "His people". Never once he aspired to hold a good post in the party he worked for or tried to get a ticket in election. His believe was someday will come when his people, his own people will request him to stand on their behalf.

We were skeptic about it. But he persisted with his belief. At the age of 62, he got the chance for the local counselor vote. His party members selected him for his social service. We all, of the big family got worried. Can he bear the pressure and rat race at this age? He sailed through the election unhurt and came third. Still he was unperturbed, said "It happens". May be people want some more from him to accept him as their representative. That night he ate his meal peacefully and went to sleep early.

The next day morning local newspapers blasted with headlines "Votes sold @ Rs 500/- per head in the counselor election with colorful pictures."

Straight Roads and Bending Curves

It is human nature to follow straight roads. When you are in school you look forward to college, in college you look forward to university and university compels you to look up on various jobs; a job, a few promotions, then marriage, then a family life, then children, then their responsibility and a continuous straight road for all of us. The life Road.

No doubt glitches are there you may get a pink slip in a blink of eyelash, you or your wife can start an extra-marital affair any moment dejected from the conjugal life, and your children can behave in many odd ways but still we all look forward to the straight roads. What for? To be happy? I don't think so. Ask anyone "Are you happy? The honest answer will be always "No". Except a confident "Yes", if you are asking a new bride as an outsider. That class is very susceptible and confused about themselves and their families. If we are on the straight roads to gain happyness, then why we end up being exactly the opposite sometimes?

Cause, we lack the interesting and challenging curves. They were in our lives earlier when we had less money and fewer clothes to flaunt. We promptly kicked them out at some point of time as a mere excuse of not having enough time, not interested and what other people will say or think? In this maddening race, we almost forget to nurture our happiness. We forget that we love to hang out with friends. We forget what our wives loved to do. We can't remember when was the last time we ate a dinner together with family. Forget the "we", Come to "I" and "me".

I have a great responsibility towards myself. If I am not happy, I should try hard to be happy. Culture my soul. Try to remember what made me happy in the past. What were my hobbies? Try my hand at new things and may discover facts about self that I previously didn't know. I may discover, I am good at pottery. That will bring me happiness of being good at something. I may discover that I have jelly feet in a dance lesson. I hobble, wobble and have great falls. That may also bring me happiness. These moments will bring smile to my face at unexpected situations also, like a serious business deal with a rival. This phenomenon is called making life easier to live. One thing is for sure, if I am not happy and satisfied with my life, I will make other people's life difficult by spreading negative energy. It is never late to realize a static status and start something new.

Try the challenge; try walking sometimes in the curves. Be happy and make others happy. Everybody has dark side to their personality built upon by their mistakes and guilties. I know one cannot dispense it. But try and push it to far corner of the mind and make space for the bright and happy ones. Atleast, I will prefer to grow up with new things rather than growing out with old habits.

The story of happy-face

Once upon a time there used to live a girl. Her name was happy-face. She was born with nice teeth and a cheerful smile. As a baby, she used to bring a lot of happiness to her parents. Hence, they named her happy-face.

As she grew, she turned out to be a very nice girl. One day her parents thought that their beloved happy-face should read in a good school. But alas there was no good school where her parents were staying. So they sent happy-face to her Grandma's house in a very distant place.

The school was good and disciplined. Happy-face came to know of a lot of things there. But at grandma's home all her aunts and uncles were very big. They were busy with their lives. Noone to play with happy-face. Noone to talk with her. Happy-face missed her parents and little brother very badly. Her mother and father came to visit sometimes. Sometimes they wrote to her. Always they told her that "You have to give up small pleasures to get a bigger one". She hardly understood anything about it and she still missed them.

Initially her only friend was a little girl in the neighborhood named lonely-face. Later she made friends with sporty-face, styly-face, frawny-face, sickly-face and many more at school. All the friends had some good and some bad in them. It became a rule with happy-face to extract the good and move on. Sporty-face introduced her to different kind of sports. But she was sometimes quite egoistic and boisterous. Styly-face tried to instill some lady-like qualities in happy-face. But her life was quite boy-centric. Happy-face abhorred it. Frawny-face was always there to push and shove ways for happy-face. But happy-face can't tolerate her unnecessary quarrels. Sickly-face introduced her to stitching; because she was no good in others.

They were not real friends of happy-face, but their antics made happy-face's life easy going. Lonely-face became a shadow to her, much to granny's annoyance. Gradually she knew to live life in granny's place. Slowly the years passed by.

School ended. Happy-face got admission in a college and shifted to the college hostel. Did she feel unhappy while leaving granny's place? Neither she was happy nor unhappy. By now she had understood that "She have to give small pleasures for getting a bigger one." Sometimes she tried ask herself "What is the bigger thing that she is pining for???" She was unable to answer that question. "May be I'll get it in future", She solaced herself.

But now she was away from lonely-face also. No doubt many more were there like sweet-face, sad-face, angry-face, sticky-face, badger-face, poky-face and sooty-face. Happy-face got busy in classes and more classes. She started climbing the stairs year by year. Everytime she achieved something her friends cheered, but happy face silently went to her room and added another goal to her diary. The bigger thing... she wanted to get it.

One more, one more, another one more, happy face climbed, ran, panted and ran. College ended. She got a job. Shifted to a city and started working. One good thing about work was she had no free time to feel sorry about anything. She piled more, more and more work for herself. More than she can do. Days passed on.

Does she miss her home now also? Yes she misses it very badly. But a lot has changed back home. When she goes there she can't find a single thing she can map into. Everybody's life has moved on and everything is new. She still tries to search her innocent childhood in the home. May be it is hidden in some corner of any room. Where went her beloved dolls she can't tell now. Once or twice she went home in the holidays. But the stays increased her alien feeling. Lonely-face came into her dreams whom she does not know how to find now. Finally she started dreading holidays and home.

Still happy-face tries to smile today. Tries to find the bigger thing her mother promised her. She searches among any-face, some-face, every-face and no-face for little bits of happiness that were earlier hers' only, but life extracted it in the name of a bigger thing. She still tries to understand what bigger thing she wants and when it will come to her?

Teachers' day specific

A STORY

A sailor plods along the narrow streets of his city. Glad to be home on leave and yet something is alack. The salty air. The gulls Fog of morning. The sun upon his back.

She, the sea, calls him.

Though life ashore is pleasant with dear loved ones close, something is always amiss without the kiss of spray upon his appled cheek.

He is in love with the sea, though he know not how.

The teacher plods along the grocery aisle,glad for summer and yet something invisible calls. The salty sweat of youth. The parents. Squeals in the halls .

Shiny youthful faces call her.

Though summer life is pleasant with dear loved ones close, teaching is sprayed softly like graffiti on her appled heart.

She is in love with teaching, though she know not how.

Taken from Web

A POEM

Did you know about the Carbon?
Long before he became a Diamond?
He was born in the abyss, dark and unknown
Till the miner dug him from his sanctuary
and took him away...

As if that wasn't bad enough,
he put him in a very hot place full of pain
And to look at himself, you would think...
he was nothing, but that was not the end of him,
for after a time, he began to glitter after glow,
until he emerged a sparkling gemstone; (I)

With a luster so brilliant,
It got a new name, this a lucky break?
Please, let us not assume for truth-
it always was a diamond on the inside
Just got carved by someone to dazzle and shine...

Taken from web and modified

A BLOG

My primary school was one of the best schools in my town. I spent a great time there. My teacher in the first class was very nice. Her name was "Amirah". In Arabic, it means princess, She was an old woman and she was teaching in this school for 35 years. Her salary was only 1 and half dollar a month! I used to spend my break time with her in the class. She had never left the class during the break time, and she used to paint roses, and write some nice encouraging sentences in our homework copybooks to make us happy.

In every time we had learned a new alphabetical letter we had party to celebrate and we serve candies, cookies. Every single day was like a party for me. Even in my sickness, I used to insist to go to school.

When I was in the fifth class, I knew that she will retire. All the girls went to her and asked her to stay, but she didnot.

The adieux was very much emotional, but she kept visiting us in the school.

No one of her pupils called her "Mrs ", we called her "mama Amirah" .

I still have some of her presents she gave me in my birthdays and other celebrations.

By Sunshine born on 29/1/1992 (Taken from web)

What it takes to be a good teacher?

What qualities should a good teacher possess? My friend asked me in mail.

Now before I start all the blah blahs let me share some of my experiences during school years.

My father had a transferable job. He used to get transferred to remote villages as well as towns. So I had completed my schooling in 5 schools. Among them, the years I spent in Baliapal and Karanjia [Both belong to state Orissa] were the best.

Baliapal at that time was a populated small village famous for its fish and betel cultivation. The primary school was small but neat and clean and most importantly maintained disciplined atmosphere very strictly. I completed my class 2 to 5 there. This place taught me to love education. It shaped my reading style and grasping power. The way the teachers taught always generated interest to listen what they are saying. Till day, I remember my science teacher, explaining the fundamental concepts of pressure practically, with a match stick, a narrow mouthed bottle and a boiled egg. First he put the egg in the mouth of the bottle, so narrow is the mouth... how will the egg go inside? He asked. We were puzzled. Then he put a lighted match in the bottle and closed it with a cork. The match burned for sometime and then stopped. In a fleeting second he opened the bottle in one hand and put the egg again on the mouth of the bottle with other hand. Pop, the egg went inside.

Magic. We were all now staring him open mouthed, owl eyed. Now he explained, the stick stopped burning 'coz there was no oxygen inside after some time. Since that much amount of air got consumed in the process, pressure dropped. But outside air pressure is normal, that is greater than inside the bottle. So when the bottle was again opened, outside air tried to enter it and took the egg (though broken during the process) with it also.

Study was much fun there. Homework was always given in articulated measure. So it was never a burden. Plenty time used to be in our hand after completing homework and we were happy with our education. I always remember these facts while watching schoolbag and homework burdened faces of my cousin sisters and brothers. What is the point in giving so much homework if the pupil is not capable of doing and assimilating them. It only compels them to hate school and study.

While Baliapal taught me how to read, Karanjia taught me what to read. I completed my Class 9 and 10 in Karanjia Girl's High School. It is a small, hilly, friendly place situated in Mayurbhanja District of Orissa. Inhabitants were few and quite friendly. The Teachers were just fabulous and they shaped my life along with many others. Especially I remember my Hindi teacher Anjali Di. She was a dignified widowed Bengali lady and quite strict .

We used to have three languages to read First language Oriya, Second language English and the third was either Sanskrit or Hindi. My family has a long tradition of opting for Sanskrit and you can raise 100 out 100 marks in Sanskrit, if u were good at it. But in Hindi it is tough to get 90 marks also. I had to face quite an opposition while opting for Hindi. Bapa (my father) was not happy at all. Some pressure, some fear of the good teacher, and finally some love for the subject made me acquire 98 out 100 in the final exams. I was really happy when Bapa said "not bad" for my Hindi marks. Next time when one of my brilliant cousins will make her mind to take up Hindi, I think there will be no objection.

It is always the teachers who shape our thinking. Since my science and geography teachers were very good, they shaped my life afterwards also. I was happy, when I opted for Science in college that has become my living now.

Not to forget that my graduation and Msc teachers were also good. They consciously brought out the best in me. I am lucky that in PhD also my guide is a good person and very much in love with studies like me. Touch Wood!

I feel a teacher must be good sympathetic person first of all. Next s/he should have some canny understanding power to read the confusions and doubts on the students' face. A doubtful mind is always a clouded sky. It is a teacher's responsibility to find the sun among the clouds so that later it can help to grow the trees; the wisdom trees impregnated with knowledge.

Another fact is that each student has special preferences and interests. It is very crucial for a teacher to know that what interests the particular student in question and how it can be nurtured and blossomed properly. It is like a mother's duty you know. Every mother knows what food her child prefers. The only difference is that teachers cultivate minds rather than food.

A humble soft spoken teacher goes a long way controlling his/er students. One cannot expect all the students to be obedient and dutiful. Some will be wayward, some uninterested, some fickle minded and some lazy. Only patience works with them. On the other way anger, punishment and sarcastic comments ignite their bad habits more. They subdue once you catch a good trait in them and suggest something of their interest. Like someone has very poor marks in Science but his extracurricular activity marks are fantastic. The next time you give him/er a small simple science project to build as part of the extracurricular activity, the results will not be that bad.

Well these are my personal thinking. I try to achieve these 'coz I want to be a teacher in future. I have just one month of experience being a teacher so far. Wish me luck.

Some of these thinking I conveyed to my friend over mail and hope she will be contended with the answer.

The Guardian

I never felt so much moved while watching a movie till date. Watch it. Bare dare truths of life are very hard to digest for all of us. They grizzle us constantly. We cry, we howl, we bleed, yet no one can feel it other than self. No one can share. Truth is always like this, a very hard concoction to digest. Yet, we have to drink it. Good or bad, they originate from us, remain life long with us as a constant pain to remind what we did. We love our family, yet we know one day we have to let go of all of them one by one. We love our work yet we know one day we will be deemed unable for the same work as someone more suitable and young will come searching for it. Good friends they will go in their way just leaving fading fragrance of their love. All temporay, ain't it? The movie will take you very near your inner pains, still you will love it.

PS: Please don't search for the storyline or reviews in cyber space. That will kill half of your enthusiasm.

Movie: The Guardian; Genre: Drama; Duration: 2 hrs 16 mins; Starring: Ashton Kutcher, Kevin Costner, Melissa Sagemiller, Sela Ward, Clancy Brown; Director: Andrew Davis; Producer: Beau Flynn, Tripp Vinson; Distributor: Touchstone Pictures/ Beacon Pictures; Release Date: September 29, 2006; Writer: Ron L Brinkerhoff.

Human Nature... So Strange!

It has been many years I am interacting with people. School days full of admiring vastness of planet earth its amazing facts. The teachers wondering how they knew so much.

College days some elation, some fear, new language, new people, new study atmosphere, hostel difficulties, pining of home, in all total a whole new plethora.

Came graduation a bit focused me with some increased confidence. Friends, friends, and more friends. Hostel seemed second home.

MSc sort of mixed feelings. Happy days are ending. After that, no study, no hostel, what to do next? Leaving old and gold friends. leaving my dear college.

Try job... try job... No try agin... and and and Gotchha!!!

Again new place, new people, new state, new challenges.

My life is going in a merry go round, What makes the difference is every time my co-player is somebody new.

I met so many people in these years outside home. Some bad, some good, sometimes they helped, sometimes they ignored, and sometimes they stuck in back.

Every time I encountered something negative or deconstructive, I asked myself how to recognize human nature? How do I know a person is good or bad? May be I am sitting, talking, laughing with them for years but comes a moment I stumble into something that shows me their true color.

You will come to know that some people hate you 'coz you seem always cheerful, you try to be straight with every one, and somebody is jealous for the fact that you get good marks in the exams or you are successful. Some are making fun of you at back for only and only reason that you are from a different state. Yet how serene and friendly they seem in front of you. So great is God's creation.

May be after that also I sit with them, talk and laugh as usual but its like smiling with teeth not from heart. Some chords break definitely and for the umpteenth time I wonder about human nature. It is so strange that absolutely no pattern exists.

Yet again I stumble into someone the next day and try to gauge his/er personality. This is also part of the human nature, I believe.

A Train Ride

My best thinking and analyzing moments while going home and coming from home are the times I spend in train. I usually travel by sleeper class. No rush of general compartments and less hawkers to disturb you. Just take a window seat. Feel the rushing wind with your face, gaze to the running scenarios, hills, trees, rivers, bridges, grazing cattle, green rice fields, wild flowers and the numerous lights in night time.

The list is never ending. I do not know why but I feel at peace and some kind of superior sense in those moments. All your backlogs and cobwebs of mind will be removed and new ideas start playing. When luck favours, I fish out a nice plot for my next short story during these rides. The characters sometimes get refined with a person I notice in close quarters in the train. How he/she talks, manners, age, personality, food habits etc. It is a funny yet potential way of passing time and amuses me to great extent.

This time while coming from home I noticed a telugu and bengali family in close quarters. Two brothers, a kid and a lady in the telugu family. I had hard time deciding whose wife is the lady, 'coz she talked identically with both the brothers and I cannot understand telugu properly except 2/3 elementary lines. Definitely she was the mother of the kid. The lady in focus was considerably fat. Lets call her Sitamma. A big orange color vermilion bindi in fore head and than a small flatter one below it like the south indian people wear in general. A large gold and black bead mangal sutra in neck with other jewellery.

Till 12 o' clock in the day Sitamma slept. There was something odd with her. May be she was sick. During lunch hour both the men woke her up. After a brief fresh up, she smartly took the role of Annapurna, fishing out various sized tiffin boxes from different bags and distributing food. Let me say, first the kid ate rice, tomato chuttney and curd. Then the men started eating. I was quite amazed with the amount of rice they consumed. First they ate rice and tomato chuttney, than rice and egg curry, than rice and curd, than rice and achar than pappad than sweets and finally apple, Every time it was a plate full of rice. I just thought how they managed being so slim after eating so much. I pictured myself with a swollen stomach gobbling digestives and antacids every time I do some slight disorder in my food habits. Lucky fellows. On the contrary the fat lady ate very little. Two large spoon full of rice, a bit of curd and a pappad. Lunch finished, empty tiffin boxes went inside bags and all of them slept like log of wood. How can someone sleep in train when there is so much to watch!

Now come to the next family. Two daughters and their mother. All of three them were white skinned longhaired bong beauties. Since my understanding of bengali is good, I noticed them for longer period. They were established in Bangalore and coming to Kolkata after a long gap of time. All excited for watching Durga pujo.

The mother was within 50-55 age range. With a starched cotton saree she looked serine and slept most of the time or gazed through the window like me. The elder girl must be above 25. Quite bulky with a poor sense of style. Who will wear green lipstick with a eye paining red colored salwar kammej? Lets call her Pompa. Well the last of them was a quite stylish girl in black jeans and white beaded top. Must be 18/19. Tall, slim, high cheek bones and very slim lips. Every time she laughed the lips curled to one side in a peculiar manner. Her feline characteristics made me name her Kitty.

When I boarded the train Kitty was reading a magazine. She raised her eyes once, looked at me and then merged herself inside the journal. After some time three of them ordered lunch. As always the inquiry before ordering is a long one. Bengalis whenever or wherever they are, always consider all the options available quite sincerely before making any decision whether small or big or trivial or important. Good habit, but sometimes it irritates the person handling them. For this purpose, the inquiry confined to questions like what will they get to eat, when they will get it, price of different items, then some discussion, some mild arguments and whining. Finally after half an hour, they settled for two plates of vegetarian meal and one plate of mutton biriyani for the youngest girl. Pompa was quite unhappy as her mother barred her from eating biriyani. Possibly due to weight issues. She looked livid and fell into complete silence. Kitty was quite happy as her demand is going to be fulfilled. After two hours lunch arrived. By this time Kitty has changed her mind. She settled for the veg meal and Pompa was quite happy with biriyani. Lunch finished. Their mother retired to upper birth. Pompa and Kitty engaged themselves in a luxurious gossip about their numerous number of boy friends. I don't know when I dozed off. But soon it was time to get down at Howrah.

Two Beautiful Movies

Shall We Dance: John Clark is a man with a wonderful job, a charming wife and a loving family, who nevertheless feels that something is missing as he makes his way every day through the city. Each evening on his commute home, John sees a beautiful woman, staring with a lost expression through the window of a dance studio. Haunted by her gaze, John impulsively jumps off the train one night, and signs up for dance lessons, hoping to meet her. At first, it seems like a mistake. His teacher turns out to be not Paulina, but the older Miss Mitzi, and John proves just as clumsy as his equally clueless classmates on the dance-floor. Even worse, when he does meet Paulina, she icily tells John that she hopes he has come to the studio to seriously study dance and not to look for a date. But, as his lessons continue, John falls in love with dancing. Keeping his new obsession from his family and co-workers, John feverishly trains for Chicago's biggest dance competition. His friendship with Paulina blossoms, as his enthusiasm rekindles her own lost passion for dance. But the more time John spends away from home, the more his wife becomes suspicious. With his secret about to be revealed, John will have to do some fancy footwork to keep his dream going and realize what it is he really yearns for...

PS: A movie released in 2004. Both Richard Gere and Jennifer Lopez are looking and acting fantastic Just look at my next movie's lead actor's name this is something we call serendipity.

Mr. Holland's Opus: Glenn Holland is a musician and composer who takes a teaching job to pay the rent while, in his 'spare time', he can strive to achieve his true goal - compose one memorable piece of music to leave his mark on the world. As Holland discovers 'Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans' and as the years unfold the joy of sharing his contagious passion for music with his students becomes his new definition of success.

PS: The subtle sentiments portrayed in this movie by various characters were really good.

Cuppa Coffee

It is raining again
Its the fourth turn
Watching Kolkata again
through the glass pane

Water pouring insane
breezing leafy manes
of trees standing wane
making muddy sticky lanes

Dirt sticken lower pants
collegues' hazy lazy yawns
bored doomed lab's denizens
Plz some coffee thisway Madam!

Strictly between us

Whenever I find a moment to myself
I find you there sitting and smiling
Deep inside in my lighted heart
Guiding me like an fairy angel
through numerous hassles of life;

You and I know very well
we cannot allow the society,
its numerous rules and standards
No relations and constraints
come between our souls, Do we?

We want to be free, independent
In body, mind and soul
So much dusty is this life's podium
Still I manage you without a speck of it
and expect to keep you like that way

Wherever I go I find you
waving at me so much invitingly
Tell me how come I will end up alone
But my beloved maa believes so
How can that be possible
'coz I know you are inside me
Till my last breath and death

What is going to happen
what is coming ahead
who knows and who can tell
At least I am happy that
I will not let you leave me!

Time and Again

You were there, didn’t you?
When I was born asphyxiated
Struggling hard, me and ma mother
It was your nod that I am alive
As the doc said one minute more
The baby would have died.

Why you let me live?
You knew very well
Where I was heading
Still you let me be, why?

You were still there
In my moments of problem
Watching like a mute spectator
You could have stopped
All those things, and you didn't!

You were still with me
When I fought back to sanity
To a rough dream of mine
Although laughing at my
Utter mad foolishness...

You knew very well
I was all alone trying
Fighting with me and myself
The raging inner battle of mind!

Still you took away the
little bit of comfort I had,
Was it a lot I asked you?
I wanted someone happy
I didn’t wanted to take
away her inner peace and smile.

And you betrayed me
this very time again
You have pushed me
to such an horizon, where
there is no return arched

Still I am smiling at you
knowing the fact that
Time and again you'll cheat me
Why not let it be between
You and me, let all bad happen to me
Please spare her all the trouble.

I know you are the best medicine
Nature ever had with her
Can't you swipe your magic wand?
Just once for her, I request
Let her be at peace, I request
May be with or without me.

For Mother Nature

Come ye nature brace me,
Give me freshness of morning-
when the little birdies sing-
and chirp to welcome the
whole long day ahead;

Give me vigor of noon,
when everything glistens-
like diamond with the sun-
wiping away every drop of-
tear and sadness in vapor; (2)

Mother nature love me,
make my life and wishes-
golden crimson red by-
the gently swaying winds-
that sooth the fading evening;

You know when night-
comes with various sounds-
in my dear native village,
I feel you are singing a-
lullaby for me to sleep;

Alas this city life took-
maximum of my comforts,
Here I feel You and I-
are restrained from each-
other by this metro mania;

Still I remember you-
when broken clouds-
in black and white cross-
above my 4th floor windows-
greeting and cheering me;

I know you send those-
rain drops that came-
in tiptoe to my room-
in midnight drenching-
my sleepy face and books;

Whenever in weekends-
I go to the roof top,
you were there with the-
wind whispering in my ear-
playing with my open hair;

I love you much mother-
as water drop to river
What can I say more-
Come and brace your
lonely child in foyer.