Tuesday, 8 December 2015
Sunday, 6 December 2015
Thursday, 3 December 2015
Wednesday, 2 December 2015
Tuesday, 1 December 2015
Thursday, 26 November 2015
Character of a woman
What is character; this is a most disputed question which also has been raised in this poetry book. A woman whose husband is not able to understand her only exploit her just because she is his wife and the woman who, in the moments of emotional weakness, fascinates to a guy who gives her the emotional strength but not dare to take the divorce to her husband and indulge into an extra marital affair. Is she characterless having all the attributes of feminine beauty but not fulfilling the norms of society. Plz share your views as it is the theme of my upcoming fiction.
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visit my page- https://www.facebook.com/AuthorVasundhraAgg/
Wednesday, 25 November 2015
Monday, 23 November 2015
Tuesday, 11 August 2015
The
flames Of funeral
I
saw the funeral; dancing with fire,
I
saw the burial; going into the dust;
Yeah,
I saw the corpse of a living being,
Melting
into the water; burning in the fire,
Vaporing
in the sky; the shattered body,
Disintegrated
into the five elements;
Going
back into the sole self,
But
the atoms, the form of eternity;
They
traverse through the space,
To
get their home place,
To
rest into the eternal abode
Of
light and purity.
Yeah
I saw the last day of my
Earthly
journey;
Leaving
behind the near and dear ones,
Crying
and gossiping
Going
back to their monotonous work,
Tedious
and dull but essential
To
live the life;
The
life which constantly keeping its
Step
towards the death;
Death,
O! Death, the sole truth
Of
existence silently coming to us,
To
pause the time.
The
time; the eternal time
Which
will never move for the emperor too;
It
ceased to the royal queen Cleopatra,
To
the wizard of poetry Shakespeare,
To
Alexander, the great moving forward:
Even
it swallowed the slaughterer of humanity,
The
cruel dictator Hitler,
All
of they perished,
And
covered in the shrouds
This
is the sole truth
Stick
with life
Whether
of regal or trivial.
I
saw my pyre,
Covered
with white sheet;
Decorated
with flower,
Going
on the shoulders
Of
four men with a procession,
To
the pile of wood, set on fire,
With
the raising flames,
It
will extinguish into the warm ashes;
Which
will slowly chill down,
Like
the emotions of loved ones,
To
live their lives in this halt,
And
then coming to the same place.
There
is nothing to grieve
As
it is the truth,
The
beautiful truth,
A
redemption of ceaseless breath,
Into
the peace, from the hurry and burry
Of
this world, the suffocated world:
Our
timeless atoms will again gather,
To
meet the jivatma,
To
go one step more from the past life:
To
accomplish the unfulfilled works,
To
articulate the creation,
Of
that unexpressed time and space.
Monday, 10 August 2015
REMINISCENES
OF HER PAST
In the
twilight of her life, she is sitting,
The
recollection of her past is knitting;
When she
carried the children with joy,
Gazing them
playing with toy.
She adopt
their lives as own,
Done the
thousand works unknown;
She smiled
in their hues,
And cried
with them in blues.
She is the
only woman ,
Who can’t be
find again;
Full of love
and affection,
Bearing the
divine perfection.
This angel
we know as mother,
But alas!
Now her wings are shatter;
Lonely she
is sitting,
Reminiscences
of her past is spinning.
Everybody is
busy,
As the life
is so fussy;
Nobody come
to lighten her home,
It has
become the deserted dome.
Forlorn she
prepared the honeyed cake,
For children
she used to bake;
No one comes
to take its fragrance,
She has lost
in utter ignorance.
Father gone
to his eternal voyage,
Leaving her
deprived of lovage;
John and
Mary departed to alien land,
There is no
soft touch of personal hand.
Throughout
the day she longs for night,
At night she
counts the stars bright;
Desolated
she is passing her life,
Taking her
last breath in strife.
Singing the
song of her age,
Gathering
the yellow leaves of that phase;
She passed
away in sheer darkness,
Weaving the
dreams of her pastness.
Saturday, 8 August 2015
‘Death'
“A
white clothed woman
In
the service of humanity,
Passing
her life with great dignity.
Having
the dreams of bright upcoming,
Knowing
not what fate is approaching.
A
white clothed woman
With
beautiful eyes and serene smile,
Passing
her life with great style.
Misfortune
lead her into a wicked trap,
Returning
way from that is only death.
A
black devil attached on her
Savagely
pinched her into the soul,
Tragically
ruined her life the whole.
Like
vegetable she is inhaling the breath,
With
every moment yearning for death.
A
fatal day of her life
Has
snatched all her smile,
Mutable
her life into a painful pile.
She
was bind into her own cage,
Her
suffering is beyond any age.
A
pitiful plea for death
Can
cure her deep wounds,
As
her damage is beyond any bound.
Her
soul need a new abode,
As
here she has no up road.
A
day came in her life
When
God poured His grace,
Laying
His mortal hands on her face.
Now
she will fly beyond the cloud nine,
As
there is none who can her confine.
An
example she has set
As
death is not always cruel,
It
comes on everyone as a rule.
But
for some it is caressing,
Spring
over them the divine blessing.”
Chakradhara
A small
village Chakradhara is situated on the bank of Ganga River; an ancient village
having the history of glorious past of Rishis and beautiful maidens; the halt
of great Himalayan Warriors; the Paradise of great valleys; once had the power
to revive the soul from its slumber, to spring them with the nectar of eternal joy
and bestow the tortured soul a repose and asylum; but now, itself, is in the
need of its redeemer who can redeem it from the clutches of so called
modernity; a vampire, who is suffocating the earth with its poisonous sniffs,
making the earth a satanic place where the humanity has creeping on the
materialistic ground leaving the shedding
of its inner consciousness.
The sound of ripples coming from the shore is ruffling the
tranquility of the serene surroundings, a girl with the tangled and ruffled
brownish hair is standing there with a basket of leaves and flowers; beseeching
to the customers who throngs on the river side, to sell her beautiful garlands.
She is an ignorable figure as the people are passing by her side without paying
any attention to deep down in the stream of Ganga who is flowing silently on
the foot of Himalaya; she is flowing as the Himalaya is shedding the tears to
see his beloved, tied in the chains of religious rituals as the love and
religious reverence has become the cause of her suffocation. A yogi, in the state of austerity, has the
vision of that girl and find that she is none other than Ganga herself who is
shedding the tears and perceiving everything silently; Is this the love that
people are not paying attention on me and rasping my throat; how long can I
survive; I have to perish; is there any Shiva, who can revive me and sense my
deplorable condition now I have become old and has lose the power to purify the
humanity from their sins. When yogi saw all this, he went to her and what he
saw; her eyes are wide open; face has been dried up and breathing rapidly and falling
on the earth, yogi gave her support and said to her, “what happened Ma, you are
the cause of my being and you yourself is dying, how does the human line will
survive if you will leave us; have pity on us.” The Ganga replied, “ I have the
pity on you, o man! When you came in the form of Bhagiratha and persuade me, I
came from heaven by passing through the Jeta of shiva to the remission of
humanity but you selfish man make me so deplorable that now I am on the verge
of destruction while you people call me immortal Ganga, “what a ridiculous
situation is this, that now I have to pray to you for my salvation; O yogi, you
knows everything as in your yognidra you can wanders in the phases of time and
have seen my glorious past when all the great sages used to come here for their
salvation; how much they loved me; they touched me with divine inspiration and
made me more pure but today people throws their waste in me and consider me a
picnic spot to enjoy their unpurified drinks and food and do the adulterous
activities on my banks: “you tell me yogi, How, I can tolerate all this, while
I have seen the holy sages who were devoted to me and loved me more than their
lives.” Hearing all this the yogi is stunned and in his heart take the oath to
revive Ganga; he went to many places; first time, he is coming down with Ganga
and is astonished to see Ganga; the scene is beyond his imagination; at the
ghats of Banaras, where every year numerous people get their salvation; he
sinks down in his heart and with tears mourns loudly; people gather there and
ask him “what is your sorrow? Have you lost your near and dear ones and came
here for the funeral.” He replied “yeah I am broken as I lost my mother.” One
person asks him “where is the pyre?” The yogi pointed toward the flowing river,
“this is the pyre of my mother.” People laughed at him and went away; he was
lying on the earth as the face of ruined Ganga is in front of his eyes. Then he
decided to go to the origin of Ganga; he climbs and climbs to the mountains of
Uttarakhand and finally with palpations and tattered cloth reached there and
sat at the foot of Alaknanda river who is coming down from the up mountains and
flowing beside the Kedarnath Temple; he
apologied with the Gangajal in his Palm, “o! My immortal mother I am
your culprit as I was sitting up the mountains in my meditation avoiding you
and there people are destroying your dignity; what type of Yognidra is this
that I can’t feel your pain while you came down from your heavenly place to
redeem our forefathers. Damn on us: with these words there came a sound of
thunder and blast; the horrible sound of cloudburst which can tear the heart
and ear of people; with that sound, there came a firestorm of water; the flood
which washed away that yogi with many other innocent lives; as she
is doing all this with revenge motif and thundering with the words:
“Nature is not only soft and silky; she takes revenge to
teach the lesson even to her child if they cross their limits. This is the law
of nature to redeem herself.”
Tuesday, 4 August 2015
Monday, 3 August 2015
The Key of Happiness
What is life; ‘a chain of breaths’; ‘a process of
continuous inhaling and exhaling; without knowing its rhythm as there are many
other rhythms which also create their music to wander the human mind from
divinity, which resides inside and outside, into the illusive well in which the
humanity is croaking. With divine force the entire universe is created ; this
material cosmos is the echo of that supreme being; the super consciousness of
whom we share the energy but what we are just a materialistic rat trapping in
the net and wandering with an unquenchable thirst; longing for what is not that
eternal not which has covered the soul’s mirror into the gaudy dust; dust
flowing all around, blinding the humanity with its with its blazing light. Power, name and wealth- these are the three components which create the hurdle to clear the vision of man towards his true self; he is trying to see himself but is buffering in the eyes of others; trying to seek his identity; the hollow identity which shrinks into the nothingness at last.
To get the more happy life; life is losing its happiness; as life is not a big achievement it is the chain of breaths so the rhythm is important which create the harmony in life; clears the rust of mind; make the free flow of energy; the source of this miracle in which you and me are breathing together; but ignorable of this supreme power which is the source of every origin; the wonderful and vital life force is the key of every joy so keep it up.
Tuesday, 26 May 2015
The Way Of Life
what is life? From the very beginning of civilization, thoughtful minds are trying to get the answers. Everyone predicts it his or her own way but there is no fixed conclusion which can define a life. Life is life whether it is of a king or a beggar, an intellectual or an ignorant, a well-known person or an unknown figure. life is life nothing more than this journey towards death. The way may be different but the destination is one- the same; this make us to peep deep down in the mystery of life.
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