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Fair whale I

It is impossible to tell how my journey or your journey was starting from the 1st January 2018. It was an incredible journey of love, happiness, loss and sorrow. And when someone asks you. How was your 2018? We end up saying, “It was good”. We hardly describe the tumultuous ride we had for 365 1/4th days. The long hours we spent sleeping, working, eating, running, laughing and even crying. But we are the same person yet changed in so many ways. Shed are those shells we wore in that old year. And today standing on the threshold, we all are about to do the same. Who would have thought that my year would be like this or like that. And so many hopes and aspirations are seeded on the floor and we wait for their germination. Patience……

I have learnt so many things. Yes so many things. New experiences, new faces, new phases to become history and in my case his-story to her-story, my story. 

The experience of teaching was by far the best. For the whole year I mothered myself. I became my mother for the whole year. And I certainly think I passed….

From waking up early in the morning, preparing breakfast and lunch; washing clothes to doing dishes, taking medicines at home to visiting doctors in the clinic; Carrying myself dressed as a teacher, helping myself sometimes with Kohl pencil or with some coloured lipstick to look mature. Getting on the school bus that took a long ride of like 45 mins to reach the school which now was my workplace and second home to the students, learning new things every single day.

The most tough part was when I was given the responsibility of class 8. The first time I entered the class, every one was silent even the wall. I could see few girls and boys all at around the age of 13-14. It was a tough task to be dealing with adolescents, I knew. I then began with my introduction and asked them to follow the same. Everyone looked shy and awkward, except the fact that they smiled looking at my face. Residing in North Bengal, with different features and colours than the majority of people in this region, students even asked me if I was a Chinese. I smiled and said, “I am from Darjeeling” and they understood immediately. It didn’t take much time to adjust their language with mine. They smiled till the class ended, even uttered some Nepali words.

Time passes and it passed, who can held Time’s running hand. Who can chase her everyday, who can meet her everyday. And Time yes it flies changing every constant thing. 

With Time we became comfortable in the presence of each other in one single room. Change was constant except the walls that stared at us. I teaching, them listening, I scolding, them laughing, I uttering, them silent yet thinking. Sometimes they created nonsensical jokes, sometimes the same faces looked dull, something untold. I was strict especially with the boys. Still I opened the doors of my ears to listen to their unsung, unheard stories, giving suggestions when necessary. 

They learned from me and I learnt from them. I noticed that the world was a galaxy of storytellers. I noticed the world was a little I and a big them. I noticed that I was just a small tiny fish with flesh and net caging around me, with big and large ‘Whale’ of stories swirling and waving around me, many of them decaying under the weight of brown dry mud, pebbles, bushes and trees, departing from the connections they built so far when the breathed. I wish if this snowy winter could freeze the year forever or even the infinite time, but no, it can’t… And surely we do not want the same season to cast it’s magic forever, because our genes are accustomed to the constant change, mutability, mortality, so on and so forth.

“If winter comes, can spring be far behind”. So with stream of memories knitted beautifully, not only me but everyone will be bidding FAREWELL to the year 2018 whose FAIR- WHALE of stories and storytellers somewhat modified and mutated our growth.

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It was like the same old days repeating it’s same usual speed, and I woke up tired to cross a path inch to reach the door leading to my bathroom. The sun slowly began to smile, as if she was playing a game of hide and seek, 12 hours a day and 12 hours a night. She blushed and turned the clouds nearby her, all red and scarlet, slowly trying to open her eyes, still filled with the softness she had left with….

Voices -reborn.

​Our Century old tattered hopes are in rags

Enchanted dreams still hangs on every green cliffs

Confused among the conspiracies that hatched without a sound

As the twenty four hour channel portrayed the scenario like in a daily soap

Where the writers head winds up like our hilly roads

Conjuring up stories after stories

Leaving the hills muted left only to talk in wispers, even when she is the queen

She is the imprisoned and forced to gulp venom

Darjeeling being poisened is growing purple bit a bit

The land has been raided once again

Sounds of boots, thuds,thuds,thudding every corner of the streets

Voilence making remedy to suppress the voice of the masses

Simple common citizens just asking a big hearted country for their rights which they swiftly denies

As the state sends forces after forces to shut the mouth of the million gorkha voices

That’s not enough

Terrorist! Who? We

They label you for free

Yes, for free

When your brothers are in borders

 As country’s respected army men

 But where is that respect?

 Lost ? Gone,tossed aside, inside that dirty bin.

 Dirty,Oh very dirty dictatorship prevails in the heated hilly air

 O! Wait was Hitler born twice?

 Banning internet was such a clever move

 The rest is left dark, blank,that fear of revealing the truth.

 But we the Gorkhas are spread worldwide

 So suppressing a few will not stop our fight,our birth right.
We forgot when last we enjoyed the thunder, the lightening and the glistening monsoon rain

A sip of a coffee or the Darjeeling tea who is now quiet and in pains

Because what showered in the hills and gardens were rains of gunshots and thunders from rifles

Deafening the mountains, leaving her with bloody bloodstains, 

Erasing the faces of the three Gorkha voices, martyred men as the soil drenched.

Drenched with tears from a mother, a father, a daughter, a son, a wife, a sister, or a brother, friends or the entire Gorkha generation.

This is what you wanted. Right?

When will your tyranny end?

When will we breathe the free air?

When will your rule end?

Yes the art of Colonisation painted the hills even after the coloniser’s end

Your wrath may have fell upon us

Like a meaningless curse

But do not worry

Weapons we do not carry

With only a thread and a needle

We will March forward in solidarity

Sewing and stitching broken wounds that are still fresh

Sewing all that you ripped apart

Your attack on language was indeed a blessing in disguise. Yes

 I don’t wanna lose my mother

 I don’t wanna cut her tongue

 I don’t wanna stay forever dumb.

 Together we stand and voice more clearly, our demands

 Now do you hear?

 The hills of Darjeeling have come alive

 Echoing the Voices of its people

 Without a land

 Their never ending chorus

‘ Gorkhaland, Gorkhaland’

Their song

Muted

Ignored

Silenced

Killed

But even after many deaths

Our voice have risen- reborn and revitalised

As we sing that old song

“we want Gorkhaland

Gorkhaland, Gorkhaland”

More louder,more fiercer than ever.

____________________

Hear my poem in the video below.

 

 

 

 

 

How I Became a Tree – Sumana Roy

I am quoting my words from my poem Azaleas posted a week before in my blog.

“I still have that old photograph

Me and my mother beside

That new mother happily

bursting with pink azaleas
It was last winter, 

Grandpa had to cut it short 

I still remember that expression

Of discomfort and regret

“Don’t be disheartened baba

They will grow again”, I said.

But his reply gave me a shock

,“They knew I would cut them.

 It gives me much pain to inflict the same upon the plant I planted and nursed.”

“But they will grow next year”, he consoled himself.

Weeks haven’t past

My mom sick and in pain,

Tortured me more…

Yes, there is a strong connection

Between a mother and her child

It was then I realised

My grandpa though a Father figure

Had already become a Mother 

To the plant life he was giving birth

With every passing year,

Trees,plants,orchids and so on…”

How I Became a Tree very much reminds me of my Thulobaba, baba and boju who are very much one with the green friends growing around us- pines, Azaleas, orchid trees( bahunia.sp), bottle brush( my favourite), Oranges (tall and dwarf), lemon, roses, lalupathey,chinaroses, Gauva, orchids and many more I cannot name.I have grown up with the hills, the trees around me, soaking in the aroma of the fresh tea leaves.I have grown up with the orange trees in our orchard. Some are of my father’s age, some even older than him, some are of my age and others are still younger and growing, all so very taller than me. Each winter, they bless us and when we were kids we would spend the whole day in the orchard, often skipping our lunch…

And reading Han Kang’s novel The Vegetarian, “set in modern-day Seoul,tells the story of Yeong-hye, a home-maker, whose decision to stop eating meat after a bloody, nightmarish dream about human cruelty leads to devastating consequences in her personal and familial life”. What struck me more are the lines in part 3.flaming Trees where she explains her dream“ 

[…] “Do you know how I found out? Well, I was in a dream, and I was standing on my head…leaves were growing from my body, and roots were sprouting from my hands…they delve down into the earth. Endlessly,Endlessly…. yes, I spread my legs because I wanted flowers to bloom from my crotch; I spread them wide…” . 

This description goes so well with this amazing book cover.Isn’t the cover amazing ?

And here is the book with its subtle contemplative narrative “Among all desires to become a tree, the most urgent was the need to escape the noise; one was the noise of the humans, the other was the vocabulary of silence of the active life of trees” How I Became A Tree by Sumana Roy is one remarkable book you never want to lose at any cost. I ordered this book from Flipkart (Of course it is available in Amazon). The more you read the more you get absorbed into the detailed photographic experiences and glimpses of the authors’ life. The more you read, the more you feel trees and flowers becoming more alive before your eyes. The way she thinks is unmatched and unparalleled, with her unique comparisons and interesting terms like the “tree-time”. There are chapters like Women as flowers and Women as trees.  This is an exceptional book where one is awestruck and mesmerised at the same time. This book helps you come a hundred steps  closer to the plant kingdom  and feel each senses of a variety of flora breathing together with us. This is a book which is not hard to understand. Written in a simple lucid manner, we are sure to explore every flavour of memoir, literary history, nature studies, spiritual philosophies and botanical research. 

I am still reading this book and by the end I am sure I will understand more and discover the heart beating inside every plant life.I hope I am not the same person after finishing this book.

Since I haven’t completed the book, I cannot produce a full book review. But below 👇 are the few links where you can read the full book reviews-

1.world literature review of How I Became a Tree

2.7 Reasons Why you should read ‛How I Became a Tree’- Sumana Roy

3.https://cafedissensusblog.com/2017/04/29/book-review-sumana-roys-how-i-became-a-tree/

This is my copy of ‘How I Became a Tree.’ Isn’t the cover Beautiful and expressive?

Well not every one is blessed as I am right now😇😇😇. 

My copy signed by Ma’am Sumana Roy

Well I got my copy signed by the author who fortunately turns out to be our beautiful Teacher. She is one of the best teachers on Earth with a beautiful heart and a gorgeous smile.A picture with our Dear beautiful Ma’am. How can I miss this opportunity…

From the Aleph book publisher-“In this remarkable and often unsettling book, Sumana Roy gives us a new vision of what it means to be human in the natural world. Increasingly disturbed by the violence, hate, insincerity, greed and selfishness of her kind, the author is drawn to the idea of becoming a tree. ‘I was tired of speed’, she writes, ‘I wanted to live to tree time.’ Besides wanting to emulate the spacious, relaxed rhythm of trees, she is drawn to their non-violent ways of being, how they tread lightly upon the earth, their ability to cope with loneliness and pain, the unselfishness with which they give freely of themselves and much more. She gives us new readings of the works of writers, painters, photographers and poets (Rabindranath Tagore and D. H. Lawrence among them) to show how trees and plants have always fascinated us. She studies the work of remarkable scientists like Jagadish Chandra Bose and key spiritual figures like the Buddha to gain even deeper insights into the world of trees. She writes of those who have wondered what it would be like to have sex with a tree, looks into why people marry trees, explores the death and rebirth of trees and tells us why a tree was thought by forest-dwellers to be equal to ten sons.

Mixing memoir, literary history, nature studies, spiritual philosophies and botanical research, How I Became a Tree is a book that will prompt readers to think of themselves and the natural world that they are an intrinsic part of, in fresh ways. It is that rarest of things – A truly original work of art. How I Became a Tree a book that will prompt readers to think of themselves and the natural world that they are an intrinsic part of, in fresh ways. It is that rarest of things – A truly original work of art.” (Blurb)

Book – How I Became a Tree

Author- Sumana Roy

Genre- Non-fiction

‛How I Became a Tree by Sumana Roy’ is available in Amazon or other online book stores by Aleph book company For only Rs.599 (discounts are available)
https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/farce/

Azaleas…

source : google

They drink water and carefully chew earth 

Soaking in that rich photons

They are sun-tanned

Yet they grow no dark

But beautifully do they age

And withers without a tinge of fear

Blossoming every spring

They are Azaleas so stunning

White, purple,

Sometimes amalgamtion of different colours Sometimes her scarlet blush

Attracting not only human eyes 

But winged angels from far and wide.

I still have that old photograph

Me and my mother beside

That new mother happily

bursting with pink azaleas
It was last winter, 

Grandpa had to cut it short 

I still remember that expression

Of discomfort and regret

“Don’t be disheartened baba

They will grow again”, I said.

But his reply gave me a shock

,“They knew I would cut them.

 It gives me much pain to inflict the same upon the plant I planted and nursed.”

“But they will grow next year”, he consoled himself.

Weeks haven’t past

My mom sick and in pain,

Tortured me more…

Yes, there is a strong connection

Between a mother and her child

It was then I realised

My grandpa though a Father figure

Had already become a Mother 

To the plant life he was giving birth

With every passing year,

Trees,plants,orchids and so on…

Pursue

Happy World Earth Day

This is the stone below which our people from the village used to keep their child (instead of burying them )who could not survive after their birth.

Thankful to my grandparents and his generation who planted these trees.
Keeping the tradition alive wishing everyone a very happy World Earth Day.
Below writing 👇👇👇Via http://www.indiacelebrating.com/events/world-earth-day/ 

“World Earth Day is celebrated every year as an annual event by the people all across the world on 22nd of April in order to increase the awareness among people about the environment safety as well as to demonstrate the environmental protection measures. First time, the world earth day was celebrated in the year 1970 and then started celebrating annually on global basis by almost 192 countries.

World Earth Day observance was started to celebrate as an annual event to get national support in order to better take care of the environmental safety by solving its issues. In 1969, there was a peace activist of the San Francisco named John McConnell who actively involved in starting this event and proposed a day to get together for the environmental safety. John McConnell had chosen this event to be celebrated in the spring equinox on 21st of March in 1970 whereas United States Wisconsin Senator Gaylord Nelson had chosen this event to be celebrated on 22nd of April in 1970.
They had contacted the people to join this event to get together for solving their environmental issues for better future. During the first time celebration of the earth day millions of people shown their interest and participated to understand the motto of the event. Instead of deciding one date for the celebration of the earth day, it has been started celebrating on both of the dates. Generally, the earth day event celebration starts with the common practice of new trees plantation in the required areas worldwide.”

writings on the wall

Pursue“>

Pursue

A warm hug 🙆and Namastey🙏 to all my WordPress family( the blogs I follow,the blogs who follows me and the future blogs I will be following and vice-versa). Lately I haven’t been able to paint the WordPress wall with my words because of my busy schedule( college, classes and my Ama being quite unwell) . But still I have managed to write  quite a few lines before bed or while travelling by bus. So these are the pictures of my work.👇👇👇👇 Happy writing and reading.💗💗💗💗💗💗

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Thank you for visiting by blog an giving a minute or two reading my simple writings😇I hope it was worth reading/ worth taking your time. Hope you all enjoyed. Check out my other posts -articles/poems. Wish you all a very happy today / tomorrow. Keep praying and do not let your smile die.

With  infinite 💗💞

Pursue

P.R_ timeandreflections