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Showing posts from November, 2008

Enlightened????

Two days back, I wrote this articles to express the horror that have been inculcated in every Indian at the moment. The article is as follows:
http://somnath-is-here.blogspot.com/2008/11/when-terror-strikes.html

Two days hence, the Indians, just like their culture goes, will stay together and rise again to be bigger and better than ever. But this uprising, within every communities amounting to many hundreds in this seventh largest nation, there remains certain blotches. 1) Blotch #1: The Maharshtra CM, Mr. B. Deshmukh along with his actor son H. Desmukh and the famous negative action thriller director and producer of Bollywood, Mr. R.G Verma went for a park stroll at the Taj. The incidence looked as if they were gathering there to get the plot idea of the next super duper hit Bollywood Blockbuster: Encounter at Taj or something like that! It may be a ulti starred...but Iw ould refrain myself from seeing it as it will not be a documentary, but a commercial mockery of the 183 innocent citi…

Bondhu.

Jodi tumi amake chao jante,
Parbe ki amake emni bhabhe mante...?

Nistabdha ek manush ami,
Nei birodh, Nei glani...
Jibon er theke paowa amar shanto akhi,
Moner majhe bas kore ek sopner pakhi...

Chobi tuli, Bandhuder hashai...
r Moner manush k valo rakhte chai..
Chotto amar songsar ogo,
Ajana pathik...
Klanto hoye esho amar kache,bosho amar pashe...
Misti kore hath-ti tomar dhore, shonabo kichu sundo-r kahini...

Ogo ajana pathik,sabai chotte...
amake pas katiye...tabuo ami achi,
jekhan-e.
Jonaki ra misti alo rakhe,
jekhan-e,
Josna ratri nijer molin abhai shorir-er protiti anga dhore,
jekhan-e,
raat pohale jibon sathi matha-ti rekhe nidra paan kore,

sekhan-e...
pabe amai...
Tomar bandhu hoye.


---- Somnath Paul. 30.11.2008

When Terror Strikes

The new province of Terror: Hotels, like the Taj and Oberoi in Mumbai, India. The old province of Birth of Terrorism and Terrorists: Pakistan. They lack any shame, even after the two wars that they have got battered hollow in the hands of few Indian Army Personnel. Even in Kargil, they made their cursed shadow fall our Mother. Back then and Now also, in Mumbai, we have crushed their powers, which a filthy, just like their birth! Pakistan plays all kinds of dirty tricks, and it is the Indians who have shown their pity on those filthy creatures. I remember one famous dialogue from a bollywood movie: Agar hum sab Hindusthani unke border per susu kar de, tab toh unke udhar baar aa jayega!(If we Indians pee standing at the border, it will bring flood in their (Pakistan's) territories)
Mumbai have seen the early 90s Blast, a face of terrorism, and today there are strong clues that the terrorists, using the sea route enroute from Pakistan, to Mumbai, via Gujarat have breached all the Int…

Sepia, The Forgotten World, Unforgotten...

The pigments run wild. More than a thought to spare, Sepia and its pigmented pictures images back to the eons of wild thoughts, irrational desires and imaginations of Cloud9! The childhood always bakes a cake smudged with cashews, raisins, almonds and hazel nuts. Sometimes ingredienst of sour vitality makes one self awed with his or her own "ir"responsible work.
Time works out its way through the mazes till the present. It wriggles through the muddy waters into the Lake Balkan. Deep down the crevices it moves to the darkness, to find some respite from the Unreal Thoughts of the Wonder Years. No time to think such, for time demands you to be practical. Those days of baby talks, baby steps are over and out!
It grinds...
It grinds...
and will keep on doing so, till The person Attains Eternity!

Hi all...

An information was mis-represented in my last article. That was something "THE ARTICLE" of no use for a simple fish monger like me... but could have been better suited as the 200th post. But, fact is, this present article which you are reading is actually the 200th post. In my history of various articles that I have posted time and again, there was one unwritten draft, deleting which makes the last article 199th and this one as 200th. Although there has been a common knack to write something meaningful, but with the increasing back pain, I would just like to enumerate the spectrum of thoughts that Ihave tried to serve you people since 2006 June. Previously I took my tuitions as my only livelihood and to get rid of various unwanted pains I got myself indulged in blogging. Well life is on the roll... but Blogging has never stopped. From the initial simple target of discussing my taughts online, now it has come to discussing anything under the screen. ;-) anyways, just to give …

Solitary "RIPPER"

William Wordsworth was one of the most prolific Romantic Poet, who gave all his creativity for the matertials in and around the natural ambience. His poem The Solitary Reaper remains a special poem that I have ever read. But what is the intention to speak about this or like this? I have heard no maiden sing, nor in the plains, nor moving up the hill...! Then? Why in my 200th post, of all the happenings or no happenings of my life, did I choose the poet and his creation. May be the poem's matter dont have that practical implication with my article, or if some one can, well is free to find one. Infact, I will explain one...

Solitarymeans, to be all alone in a particular co-ordinate in the spatial location. (doesnt suit the natural beauty!!!???) There's a beautiful music when being alone. A music heard to oneself, keeping others gazing with wonder as to what You believe and what you do:
Will no one tell me what she sings?
- Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow
For old, unhappy, far-o…

:)

Let there be smile...
Let the brightness prevail...
Let there be sin... of temptation....
Let there be Love... with the Making...
For even the skies above..
Refrain from saying...
The magical words...
That have always been...
The green factor for the neglected...
The pink factor for the seduced...
The red factor for the speaker...
But it has been fruitful...
For Love.... and The Cupid Seeker....

A Dozen Years...

It was an evening in August 1996, Kalka Mail. I was then in the sixth standard, and that is the first time I heard, chota Sourav. My name is Somnath, not Sourav! Yet many eyes stared with awe about the then similarity. Seldom did I know about the feats of another Bengali, done a few weeks back in Lords, The Bethlehem of Cricket.
Sourav Chandidas Ganguly, made a Test Debut comeback against England, where he made back to back test centuries, under the able captaincy of Md. Azharuddin. Incidentally, the legend made his debut on the last test match of another legendary name in Cricket, Dickie Bird. Those two knocks ensured that the Son of Bengal was never to look back, and continue some glorious years, before he would retire 12 years later in November 10th, 2008.
Today, I am not going to enumerate his achievements, as have many many articles do, but I would put forward some incidents where by the Great and myself bear resemblance. Not only in Kalka Mail, but the direct "sweet" as…

Reminescence.

November 2005, was something different. Three years down the line, a lot has changed. The stature as well as the status of those who were once on the train together, heading for Andhra Pradesh. The tour started in an ebullinece of shear brilliance of joy and feel good. It was winter in the air, starting from Howrah station. The 0655hrs Falaknama felt so blessed, so auspicious, bringing in the thoughts of another 5 years back, when in Standard X, I bode my school party to enjoy a 9 days extended tour to North Bengal. Things happened so fast... so "rough". To give it a thought, I found myself at the periphery of all the matters, gelling the various people well and various points of time.
September 2000 and November 2005 resulted in the zeal to move out, the Dil Chahta Hain style, which had taken place on three instances through out the post graduation days in February 2007, August 2007 and then the biggie in January 2008, going to Digha ( 2days), Diamond Harbour ( 1day) and the…

Sand-"witched"....

Life has got all stand still amogst the expectations of the proffessional as well as the personal front. It just sleeks on, in between that small space. No time to relax, atleast, quote unquote to my friend, I can well put it forward, regarding the applications for the Universities in States: Its well in the Hands of Fate....

Anil Kumble - The Indian Braveheart.

2nd November, 2008, by God's grace was witnessed by me. The news flashed in a national news channel that the Leggie, Anil Kumble would be retiring at the end of the Firoz Shah Kotla match, today. It was a bounced googly, the one that this great cricketer have delivered all over the world, all round his career. With an injured left hand, Jumbo as he is known better in the cricketing faternity, he took 3 wickets in the Australian first Innings of this third test, in Kotla, New Delhi, India. It is the self same ground, where he became the second bowler in the history of test cricket, after Jim Laker, taking 10 wickets in an innings. The feat was achieved in 1999, against the arch rival Pakistan. It also made Jumbo the first spinner to achieve it, as Laker was a pacer.
Anil Kumble has 619 test wickets in his 100+ tests. In the shorter format, that is ODIs, he has 337 scalps, a feat that explais his 18 year long career, ending at 38 years of age. He politely and gentlemanly admits, &quo…

Come November, Come the Cold Northernlies...

It has been a bumpy ride for the past few days. Uncertainty gloomed Mr. P. He tunes his transistor for some relief song... may be something on request. But the stations blare with the forecast of a storm. The mind of Mr. P predicaments, what to do, where to seek some enlightened thoughts. What is right? To support or pressed hard against the motion. In past Mr. P got the inclination of disatisfaction when he pressed hard against it. He doesnt want to commit the same act again, yet his act is demanded by the situation.
The leaves rustle against the window pain. Its a foreplay before the winds pour in their traditional dismantling effects! There is something for every one... its just a wait for time. Mr. P wants nothing but a smiling life. He craves all his hours just to think out ways of ensuring that. The clock strucks 0200 hrs on 2nd November, 2008. Its time to have a sleep, and comatosed, he may think clear... may be....

Baseless Platform.

When the roads up ahead asks for a face lift, with all the smudged zebra crossings and the signals on their way of worked out exit, the bull dozer makes the work hard to comprehend. Where is it all coming from? And what is the basic use of creating a fuss, which brings less harmony to a presently harmonious mind?
Nothing is the call.
Nothing is the bottom line.
Yet there is a fence of non violence, a complete faith, understanding and belief in the other. These walls are always too strong for anything to come across and hard enough to resist all kinds of over running elements. Its a matter of time to see it over, for the Great Wall magnets from the moon, even after over 3000 years, why not this wall of belief. Of course it will... It has to... We can opver come with this weapon, as pure as white, flawless, un mitigatable... just the strength is required to pass through this baseless platform, and win the trophy of happiness, ever after!!! Always....