Kolkata Cocktail~ Looking Back on the Journey~ For the last two years, Kolkata Cocktail has gripped us.
We seem to be in its loving embrace..
As if uncannily and unknowingly this poetry film has become a character in our lives.
A character, we built from scratch.
The Festival of Lights~Burn Burn Burn
Into incandescence
Into Passion
That fires love
And light
Rooted~Sometimes, especially in the mellow light of Autumn, when the sky is a happy azure, and clouds look like white candy floss, I get a smell. A familiar whiff, most unexpectedly, in the middle of my chores.
The smell of a dark room ensconced between the staircase to the first floor and the other room that leads to the dining room.
Memories~ Dada-Didi~ I find you both
Within me…
Here and there
Now and then
In song and music,
In singara and sandesh
In perspectives and outlooks
In life, far far beyond brick and mortar remains..
In the effervescence of living life…
The Homecoming~ The great Bengal Autumn Festival
Yes, it is the worship of the Mother Goddess, an incarnation of Shakti…
And She comes home.
To her parents house really.
Along with her children
To be pampered and loved.
Propoganda and Privacy ~
With evolution of technology and methodology lines keep getting blurred.It is easy for the common man caught up in daily chores to be caught unaware. To be caught in a propaganda exercise far beyond his understanding, and far beyond his ability to counter check.
Home, Safe Home~The recent Lockdown has given rise to several issues on the home front.
Cooped up in the house, often under stressful situation of paycuts and a plethora of domestic chores, the atmosphere can fast degenerate.
For the teeming million Indians~
More than 70 years post independence and we still haven’t managed to establish a system of dignity of labour.. . Sad! The picture of millions of our countrymen who once had to leave homes to earn their daily bread, now having to head back to their villages, in the absence of their daily jobs and wages, uncertainty looming large,. This will remain a horrific memory of these Lock down times.
২৫ এ বৈশাখ~ A tribute to Tagore
A Flying Thought
How does it feel to be a wet crow?
