আজি'বসন্ত

এখন বসন্তকাল। তবে মুম্বাই শহরে তার ছোয়া মেলা ভার, আসলে ভারতবর্ষের বেশির ভাগ প্রান্তেই শীত, গ্রীষ্ম  আর বর্ষা ছাড়া আর কোনো ঋতুরই স্পর্শ পাওয়া যায় না। মন খারাপ করে। ইচ্ছে করে, কবির ভাষায় যে ভাবে ঋতুর বর্ণনা শুনেছি, সে ভাবেই উপলব্ধি করি। কিন্তু তা হবার না।  সকাল বেলা যখন অফিস এর কম্পাউন্ড এর মধ্যে হ্নাটি, তখন রাস্তায়  পরে থাকা রাধাচূড়া ফুলের রাশি মনে করিয়ে দেয় "আজি'বসন্ত". 

তেমনি এক সকাল, বিমর্ষ মন, উদ্ভ্রান্তের মত চলেছি অফিস এর দিকে। কাজে মন লাগছে না কদিন ধরে। কেবলি মনে হচ্ছে , দূরে  কোথাও চলে যাই।শরীর না,মনে ক্লান্তি।এমন ক্লান্তি ,যা প্রকাশ করাও ভার,বোঝাও ভার। হঠাতই হাটতে হাটতে সেই রোজকার দেখা হলুদ রাধাচূড়ার রাশি আমার দৃষ্টি আকর্ষণ করলো,মনে মনে রচনা করলাম একটি কবিতা, মানে ছড়া বলাই বোধহয় ভালো,আর' বলা ভাহুললো, যে মনের মধ্যের এই রচনা মনটাকেই অনেক প্রফুল্ল করে দিল। বাংলা কবিতা লিখিনি  কখনো সেঅর্থে,কে জানে কেমন হযেছে। ......

বিষন্ন এই মনে, প্রানের সঞ্চার কর 

সুদীর্ঘ এই গ্রীষ্মকালে মধুর বর্ষণ ঝরো 

শুস্ক, ক্লান্ত, অবিশ্রান্ত 

আজি হৃদয় বড় উদ্ভ্রান্ত

ফুঁটে উঠুক ফুলের রাশি 

হৃদ মাঝরে ফিরে আসুক আজি বসন্ত। 

মনটি আমার যাযাবর 

কিন্তু দেহটি পরেছে আটকা 

সময় পেলেই স্বপ্ন দেখে 

কত টাটকা টাটকা 

সত্যি না , সেই স্বপ্ন রাজ্যে এখন ঋতু অনবদ্ধ 

হৃদ মাঝরে ফিরে আসুক আজি বসন্ত। 

স্রোত নেমেছে মানুষের 
রাস্তা জোড়া ভিড় 
নিঃশ্বাস  মোর আবদ্ধ প্রায় 
কোথায় মিষ্টি নীড় ?
সেই ভিড়েতেই মন যে খোঁজে প্রানের সান্নিদ্ধ   
হৃদ মাঝরে ফিরে আসুক আজি বসন্ত। 

সুন্দর এই ধরিত্রীর কত রূপের বাহার 
কোথাও বা শস্য শ্যামলা কোথাও ধুম্র পাহাড় 
মনের আঁখি খুলি যখন দেখতে তখন পাই 
প্রকৃতিটি শ্যামের মত আমিই তো তার রাই 
চারিদিকেই ঝরছে যে প্রেম, আকুল, অক্লান্ত 
হৃদ মাঝরে আসন পাতুক চির বসন্ত। 

আরিত্রা চক্রবর্তী সেনগুপ্ত 

pic courtesy google images

A farewell poem

1. As you step into a new life

Classes, Parties and future bright

Let the time you spent with us

Be etched in your memory in debonair delight

Simulation, convergence and a complex dough

Situations grave and at times light

But the steaming cup of coffee and its delectable respite

Be etched in your memory in debonair delight

And here‘s heartfelt wishes coming your way

Let the effervescent smile stay with you tight

And as you soar high in the sky of success, let this day

Be etched in your memory in debonair delight



2. Life is a running train, we board and vacate,

There is never a good bye, never an adieu,

There are only new beginnings,

As fresh as the morning dew.

So as you move forward to an undertaking new,

Meeting new people and fresh challenges thrown your way,

We wish you divine success in all realms of life,

Let joy and gaiety with you forever stay.

You have been a great friend and guide to us,

Thanks is a small word to put across,

All we can say is, you will be remembered with a smile,

As you endorse your new journey of gratification and gloss.

pic courtesy google images

Aritra Chakrabarty Sengupta

The Million dollar crimson

Waves moved upto the shore

The water silvery

Boulders taking each blow with a smile

Cheers to their bravery

Birds were flying to their nests of love

The sky a regal crimson

Scattered clouds had a dash of colour

The mellowed sun, a dot of delectable vermilion

The breeze, suave and silky

Vanishing in my hair

And Air with the tangy taste of salt in it

Had about it, a royal flair

I sat by the Arabian Sea

Beholding nature's game of love

The queenly sun rays kissed the waves

Slyly the waters looked above

Tick Tick Tick the minutes passed

The sky like a Paula donna changed her gown

From hues of yellow, to crimson to red

It was then time, to put down the crown

And then at the countdown of ten to one

She had disappeared to vast unknown

But with a promise of a bright tomorrow

With more of smiles and less of groans

Nature has endless immenseness to offer

It is on us and our perception

Whether it makes us gloomy or gifts hope of perseverance

My million dollar crimson

Aritra Chakrabarty Sengupta

pic taken by me

pic taken by hubby Avishek Sengupta

Lost Colours of Holi

Basanta Utsab

In Bengal we celebrate the festival of vibrancy, most of the times, a day before the entire country plunges to colouring themselves in serene joy. We call it “Dol”. Infact, we take the privilege of celebrating two days of mirth, instead of just one. And whenever we mention Bengal, one name cannot be kept aside and that is none other than the epitome of literary genius “Rabindranath Tagore”. In Vishwabharati Shantiniketan, the university founded by him, Holi is celebrated to a different rhythm, different essence. They call it “Basanta Utsab” or celebrating spring.

Students dressed in yellow, come together through music and dances and welcome the awesomeness of spring with zeal. Grace and art conglomerate to such a candid effervescence that the onlooker too, is painted in the colours of the season.

Holi has different avatars in different regions, whether it’s the delectable madness of Mathura or the grace of Vishwabharati, one aspect is always the inseparable part of the festivities, and that is embracing life’s vivid colours in the absolute literal sense. And hence my nation is unique, where we celebrate a day painting each other in/with love.

Let the madness reappear

My earliest memories of Holi are truly magnificent, they belong to the era, when I and my family lived in the little Sail Township in West Bengal. I call it a hamlet for breeding rich souls. An astonishing association of culture, education and immense respect for each other. As kids, Holi was the best festival to do absolutely whatever the heart seeks. Neither mom was going to scold for the prestigious untidiness acquired, nor papa for skipping studies. We all would patiently wait for each other to make the first move and once movement was spotted outside in the garden area, there was no stopping at all.

“Hare re re re re, amae chere dere dere…jemon chara boner pakhi moner anonde re……”

This famous Rabindra Sangeet means, leave me to fly like birds in the wood sans inhibition and overflowing with gaiety. An apt expression to portray what we kids felt, as we darted towards each other giggling, jumping, with colour and “pichkari” in our little hands. A complete feeling of free spiritedness. Neither did we bother about the smoothness of skin nor the lustre of hair, the only botheration was glowing feeling of happiness in our eyes. We took to lot of mischief too, sometimes throwing balloons filled with coloured water at an unknown passerby, or at times pouncing on a friend, caught in slight inattentiveness. We ran from one house to another, and filled our stomachs with tasty, homemade sweets which the aunties had to offer. At the end of the day, we were left tired, satisfied and surging with possibilities.

Today, the mirth has faded to a huge extent. Given to our hectic lives, a mid week holiday is an added rest to our demented souls. Sometimes when I sit by the window of my sixteenth floor apartment in Mumbai those lost memories come back to me, like a breath of fresh air with the looming fragrance of Holi colours. Hoping for the day when that madness will reappear and the festival regain its lost colour for me.....

“I’m pledging to #KhulKeKheloHoli this year by sharing my Holi memories atBlogAdda in association with Parachute Advansed.”

Aritra Chakrabarty Sengupta

The Land Of Royals

It was fulfilling to read my own words....

Aritra Chakrabarty Sengupta

EMBRACING COLORS

The sky is a different blue these days

They say that spring has come

Flowers have blossomed to a dreamy demeanor

Whether it’s Blue Bell, Lilium or Cherry Blossom!

With Grapefruit, Kiwi and Blue Berries to devour

Life is filled with mirth

And the festival of colors is the cherished add on

When Jubilation suffers no dearth!

India is the hamlet for exuberance and celebrations

Bringing spring to Life

Colors, sweets and forgetfulness to hatred

It is celebrating life, a party, a jive!

Painted faces and brightened hearts

A day of embracing the beauty of life

There is no friend, there is no foe

What is precious is just a warm smile…

Aritra Chakrabarty Sengupta

Wishes Happy Holi!!!!!!

Note: pics courtesy goggle images

Unreturned Love

How the candles burnt out I could never know,

How the roses perished I could never know,

I only could know when my heart craved for you,

And I could feel on my cheeks the holy drops flow!

I sat on the bench just behind yours,

But my freckled skin and spectacled eyes,

Never interested your fantasies to spare a glance,

My existence to you, could never suffice!

During lunch I invisibly sat somewhere near you,

You never knew,

You never cared,

I wasn’t a part of the brigade you belonged to!

I cried at night till my lungs gave away,

The pillow left wet and damp,

But sleep got me to you in my dreams,

Where your love played the vamp!

But that spring was a different one,

The wicked truck hit your bike,

And you will never know, the blood that flows in you is mine,

Whether you like or do not like!

Your love took a back seat,

Your friends looked away,

But how could I close my eyes to your despair,

I loved you to the core of my heart, whether you give me light or take it away!

Aritra Chakrabarty Sengupta

What is being progressive?

They also say sharing is caring!

They say that the union of a male and a female through marriage is a bonding that God had predestined to occur. They also say that the partners bond in the holy bondage are for each other's completeness. They complement each other's existence, they make each other's life more meaningful. But unfortunately no law in this man-made society of divisions is spared of flaw. And this law is no exception either. Though fortunately the air of change, and for the better has started to flow through this bourgeois society. Yet the conjectured minds continue to rule the households of the majority. 

Today fortunately we don't teach our daughters to become proficient in cooking, cleaning and prepare to excel their duties as wife, mother, daughter-in-law and preferably forget their dreams, or better existence. At-least the society has learned to accept that a woman is capable of almost all the work has man does. She can be the bread-earner of a family too. But the flawed theory is more with the evolution of man from the dominant, to the hand in hand partner. He has gracefully (almost) learned to accept the fact, that his partner is a corporate player, a doctor or a successful businesswoman. But the difficulty is with his and the society's incapability of accepting the fact that, as she is sharing his load with jobs outside the four walls of the house, he should learn to share her load within.

We brag about how modern our society has become. We say that we are progressing at a lightning speed. Digital India! Progressive India! But can a society actually progress without being able to shed off the ingrained prejudices? Time for some thought! If you don't agree that we have impregnated minds...just ask yourself the following few questions

a. How many times have you heard that a man was anxious about the meal he was supposed to prepare after getting home, after chasing deadlines in office? 

b. Does the man of a family, of working partners think of the menu the cook will prepare?

c. Who is responsible for washing clothes or at-least sending the clothes to the laundry?

d. Who keeps account of the monthly groceries?

f. And my favourite, who prepares tea/coffee (mostly, not interested in the occasional show of generosity) after a wife and husband return home, both after a long day at office?
g. After answering the above, just ask yourself "WHAT IS BEING PROGRESSIVE?" to you.

The answers to the above questions and many more will give a transparent picture of the prejudices our society carries. And it is very important to prevent inculcating the same in the tender minds of the generations to come. And the one and only way of doing it, is to exemplify equality in the house. The man and woman of the house should be treated with equal dignity and all work should be shared. A boy and girl child should not be fed with different beliefs about their status in the society and more so in the household. As both of them strive to be successful individuals, both should be proficient in household chores. Such that these kids grow up to be successful and sympathetic building blocks of a society, which could be called progressive from the core.

“I am joining the Ariel #ShareTheLoad campaign at BlogAdda and blogging about the prejudice related to household chores being passed on to the next generation.”

This video is extremely well made and symbolizes our society's pseudo progress 

ARITRA CHAKRABARTY SENGUPTA

STRINGS ATTACHED

Did you ever listen to the rippling waters?

Did you hear their plea?

Did you fly with the migratory birds?

Did you swim in the sea?

Did you follow the springs to their destinations?

Did you kiss the dew?

Did you witness the rainbow form?

Did you ever sink to the deep blue?

These questions I ask to my deceased soul

Caught in the mist of dwindling life

When will the fetters loose

And will I fly to the land of blooming flowers?

The traveler, the dreamer, the narrator in me

Tries to seek escape

Escape to the world of nature's abundance

Only to be lost in life's baffling maze.

An then I realize you sleeping by my side

My dreams devoid you appear too far fetched

And I relish the fact

That I have strings attached.

Strings that complete my life and living

Strings that bind our souls

Strings that make me the woman I am

They describe my life's roles.

Aritra Chakrabarty Sengupta

STRESS KILLS

It was past mid night. Goa was still alive but Arambol beach was silent. The waves were banging heads incessantly on the beach, the white froth was shining in the full moon night. Ashutosh was alone, he was sitting on the stairs of his shack which lead to the sands. His feet touched the soft and coldness of the beach. This was the first time he had dared to travel alone after Arunima had passed away. But the emptiness was eating its way to his heart. There was a slight pain that aroused from the middle of his chest but strangely he felt more alive. Their house back in Mumbai was a museum of their memories together and he was still quite unprepared to face those, alone. Relatives and their constant pandemonium barely gave him a chance to think of her to the fulfilment of his heart. But that night he was alone, in Goa, one of their favourite locations of travel. He was happy to be able to enjoy his melancholy and think of her over and over again.

Arunima was a nature lover, the only aspect of life that gave her happiness was closeness to the oceans, nearness to the mountains. And offcourse him. She was a painter of words, a narrator and a dreamer. That night the Arabian beauty lay in front of his eyes, but a girl with long silky hair was not sitting by him clinging to his hand with candid childishness. Her twinkling eyes, infectious smile and innocent face was nowhere to be seen. Tear drops had appeared in Ashutosh’s eyes without his consent. He closed his eyes in the hope beholding her. And she appeared.

Since the last few months she was suffering from hypertension, urban life stress, her want to embrace motherhood, and her desperate try for striking balance between the writer in her and her corporate life tore her to pieces. She kept complaining that she never felt comfortable and a mist was gradually hiding the effervescence of her heart. But neither she nor Ashutosh gauged the pressure that she was subjecting herself to. Not before that accursed night. When a cardiac arrest, arrested the life of a girl full of hopes and possibilities. Leaving Ashutosh alone with her memories.

She was sitting on the sand, in a royal blue flowing gown. The light from the shack was falling on her. And Ashutosh found himself being pulled like iron towards a magnet. When she looked up at him, he could clearly see the gloom that surrounded her pretty face. Tears were rolling down her pink cheeks.

“I wanted to fly with you but shackles held me back, I wanted to touch the sky. The constant struggle to be myself killed me……I wanted to live with you………………..”

When Ashutosh opened his eyes, it was all emptiness that surrounded him. But he vowed something, he vowed to follow his dreams and never let fetters tie him up. He vowed to live for Arunima.

LOVE YOUR DREAMS AND LIVE LIFE…MECHANICAL LIFE IS WORSE THAN DEATH……REMEMBER STRESS KILLS SO LIVE HAPPY.

Aritra Chakrabarty Sengupta