Wandering Soul in Search of the Final Destination

Where shall the travel be?
When time is right,
Revealed shall the answe be.

Arrived at what station?
An unfamiliar place,
After a long journey.

Familiarize with the unfamiliar;
In search of the infinite continuum,
This journey is just the infinitesimal dust particle on the road;

Was this the same path traversed before?
What an absurd question,
Will it address the search unknown?

The water molecule of the flowing river,
Does it return again to the same spot
once it merges in the bosom of the sea?

Does not the water molecule in the sea evaporate and
come back again as raindrop,
To the river’s bosom?

The evaporated particle of water as dew drop,
Dancing on the blade of grass,
Swept away to the river by rain;

Does that dew drop know
it traversed this same path before,
To merge into the bosom of the sea?

What is this new identity,
Know this is not permanent,
Why then is this attachment?

Move on, move on,
This wandering is eternal,
In death the address is not hidden;

Who knows when the search is answered,
Will the quest come to a culmination,
The travel of a wandering soul in search of the final destination?

**translated from a poem I wrote yesterday in my mother tongue Axomiya (Assamese).**

Five Years Old Today

I can assure you that when I got up today morning, I had no intention of writing this post. Forget the morning, even ten minutes back I had no inclination that this post was brewing. I was happily preparing my lunch, boiling lentils for the ubiquitous daal, staple of many Indian households for lunch and dinner, when suddenly popped up this announcement on my cell phone. Thank whoever is up there that my betterhalf did not see the announcement first. She would not have had the patience to scroll down and would have shot first. No, not with a gun, we don’t own one, but I dread more the treatment that would have been meted out more than the gun shot that I  am sure she would have missed.

To cut to the chase, I am five years old today. No, not in physical age, I don’t even remember being thtyat old any more. I am five years old by WordPress calender and that’s the anniversary note that popped up on my phone just few minutes back.

And what a wonderful five years it had been. Brought to social media kicking and screaming, I now relish the wonderful friends I have met across all the continents of the world except Antarctica. I have not met any of them physically yet but many of those friendships I cherish. They make life worthwhile through their writings and comments.

So without much ado, and before my dall boils over(and to spare myself from a tongue lashing), here is to friendship and a long, fruitful journey together in the world of writing in WordPress.

Phone call at night

Every phone call that comes at night,

fills my heart with fright,

who is next, who is next,

this is what life has become,

with sadness, I wait for my flight,

till then life goes on,

I keep rowing my boat,

every morning I get up,

I send a thank you note,

and try to stay upright,

every night I go to bed,

I say, if this be my last,

let me dream, let me dream,

so that when I go,

the journey be funny and bright.

Friends for ever

I leave creating in vacuum,
From nothing,
To the powers unseen,
I burrow into
your hearts,
and steal the words,
to string a necklace
of pearls,
may be rough at the edges,
may not be a string golden,
but if you care to listen,
you will hear
a heart beating,
and a few words of thanks,
Thank you my friends,
for being my companion,
in this wonderful
Journey


A belated wish for Friendship Day. I did not have any idea till yesterday that a day existed for friends. To me, friends are forever. However, to my blogily, this journey would not have been possible without you. So here is a toast for you.

MASK

MASK

We live in an era where the word mask has become ubiquitous.  However this poem was written in another time, not very long ago. It was written in December of twenty fourteen, just about six years back.  Then it got lost among lots of others amidst many that I wrote and did not complete or was discarded.  Few days back as I was rummaging through some of my old folders, I found this and found it to be surprisingly complete.  I think this still have relevance today, albeit not in a sense that we associate masks with now a days.

The moment we entered the world

We are marked.

Labels defined us at every step.

We are sons, daughters, brothers, sisters.

 

Every step we made, every progression,

Got labeled and defined for us.

We are smart, fool, lazy, successful.

Labeled nicely in boxes as per societies’ norms.

World as we know,

Won’t let us live as ourselves

Break those norms,

We are labeled as rebels, misfits,

To be put down with all their might.

 

Conform or perish,

Lead or follow,

Succeed or fail,

Be religious (whatever it means),

Or rot in hell (as if enough hell is not created in this world).

 

Every step we take,

Yardsticks are out to measure

Our fit to a new label.

We are not allowed to be ourselves.

Deified or demonized or in between.

 

We are all wearing a mask,

Masking us from ourselves

In this journey through life.

Blissfully unaware that

Anonymous we came and

and will leave to anonymity.

 

At journey’s end,

These masks of label,

Won’t be of any use to us.

 

Leave no baggage behind

For everyone the bell will toll

And we will close the book

And shut our eyes one last time

The time to disembark

Has finally come

Fortunate ones may have time

To say final goodbye

For others

Start of a lonely journey

To a place unknown

No baggage to carry, none

Hopefully none left behind

For those to follow

On the same lonely path

When the bell tolls for them

Friends will remain Friends

In our adolescence, we leave our homes to go to colleges and universities for higher studies.  For many of us that would be the first time staying away from home alone.  We make new friends, spend few years of our formative life together, graduate and then move out in search of our livelihood.  In old days, many a times, that was the last time we would meet or correspondance with friends that we spent years together.  Modern technology and social media is making it easier to track old friends whose memories we kept alive for years in our mind.  Alas, with time people change. Memories of distant past and present clash sometimes and produce unexpected results.

Poem below is my feeling about meeting groups of old classmates in social media after decades of being completely out of touch.  Those feelings may resonate with some of my readers.  Appreciate your feedback.

We have traversed distances long
Climbed mountains high
Savored the fruit of success Continue reading “Friends will remain Friends”

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