The Fall

You were standing across the bend..
one amongst many, withdrawn.
It never occurred to me in that pale autumn-light,
in the rustle of the dry leaves being blown away,
in that anchor-less faltering...
that, again, I would seek my own earth,
would dream of unburdening,
would hope for solace...
in that common presence...
which, rendered that
mossy cement seat,
the mauve jacaranda rain,
the thronging crowd,
the shroud of dusk,
the festive air and
each day passing into another,
so uncommon!

Author: Jayeeta Sinha Roy

Death of Hope

Don't close the windows yet
Can't we wait till 'morrow?
After the harshest wind, the bite of chill.....
Spring is sure to follow

Can't close the windows, still...
though, heart is in despair,
less of rights, more of wrongs....
hoping for that breath of fresh air

Have to close the window now,
My longing is frozen cold,
have waited for you, have yearned for you....
perhaps, spring has grown old.

A Southern Sojourn

As far as I can recollect, the year was, 2005, the month was December, however we had left behind the nip in the air, in Kolkata. It was the last phase of our South India trip. we were a motley group of family and friends, ages ranging from 2, (that of my daughter) to 65, (that of my father). We were in the last lap of our South India trip. We had traveled from Howrah to Chennai, in Coromondal Express. Chennai greeted us with rains in December. A local of Chennai, had informed us that there were three seasons in Chennai - HOT, HOTTER and HOTTEST, and we were pleasantly surprised at the pleasantness of the weather. We reached the TTDC hotel, which was a statement in antiquity itself. The plaster was off most of the walls, and water was seeping in but the lady at reception, with the fragrance of jasmine on her thick oiled hair comforted us with the promise of 'hot kafi'.

After the usual tourist rounds at Marina Beach, its idly stands and balloons we went to Fort St. George, My son, who was all of 10 years at that time, thoroughly enjoyed taking his photo beside the huge cannon. The ladies in our group, including me, had our one-point destination etched out in our minds...Nalli, Kumaran and Pothys and we were in no mood to be distracted from our focus. So after packing off the boys and the kids, to the hotel, we made a headway to our Moksh.

The next evening, saw us boarding the Nilgiri express, our destination -Mettupalayam, the gateway to Ooty, in expectation of cooler climes. Early next morning, saw us at Mettupalayam station. The early morning mist, the steam from the blue Nilgiri Passenger train, the inviting aroma of hot coffee, the blue mountains beckoning us, the quaint and very clean platform with almost a doll-house like feel, and the much awaited bite in the air, made me fall in love with the place, instantly.

I loved Ooty from the first glimpse that I had of it. It is like any other British Summer destinations in India, but had retained its native flavor. The Ooty Botanical Gardens, The Ooty Lake and the Doddabetta peak ,the highest peak in the Nilgiris, and its telescope, which provided a 180 degree view of the Nilgiris captured
 my interest. However, the feeling that stuck on to my senses were those of the musty smell of the British era "Chellaram" shop, which sold from toothpaste to tobacco and toys, as well as home-made chocolates, the heaps of spices like cardamom, and black pepper lying on the road, waiting to be sold, the shops selling different oils, like clove oil, cardamom oil, the rolling tea gardens on the way to Coonnor, where I had the tastiest and sweetest pineapple, that I have ever had in my life and in Sim's Park where, there were many 'Rudraksh' trees. To put it briefly, I must say, that Ooty, has the power to seduce every sense in an individual.

Our next stop was Madurai, the temple city. on the banks of the river Vaigai. The Cultural Capital of Tamil Nadu, once the capital city of the great Pandya rulers, boasts of the World-Renowned Meenakshi Amman Temple.The temple complex is dedicated to Lord Sundareshwara, as Shiva is known here, and his consort Parvati, or Meenakshi. The temple complex has huge water tanks, and is resplendant with mighty stone pillars and magnificient Gopurams. The intricate figures carved out on the pillars and the gopurams depicted scenes from our epics and were an array of colors. Each figure, is painted in a different color, suited to that character. Madurai is a great place to bargain for bell-metal lamps and figurines.

One frivolous/important observation, I must add in here. each of the places, that I visited in TamilNadu, offers different variants of Dosa, inherent to that place.

We took the Vaigai Express from Madurai to Villupuram. We reached, Villupuram, when, dawn was breaking, it was still quite dark, and we had to wake up an old porter to help us carry our luggage. As we crossed the tracks, and exited the station, I noticed a small temple, decorated with small electric bulbs, constant chanting of shlokas, in a deep baritone, made me feel very peaceful at that hour, when the world was still sleeping. Fragrance of jasmine flowers and agarbatti was seeping into my senses. It was an ethereal feeling as we took a tempo traveller to 'Matri Sharanam" the rest house of the Pondicherry Aurobindo Ashram.

Written by: Jayeeta Sen Roy

Photos: Jayeeta Sen Roy

Mediocrity at its best...

I was the older of us two siblings. My brother was younger than me, by a good four years, but as far as talent and genius was concerned, he must have been ahead by atleast a decade. He was a student, par excellence, possessed a golden voice, which though had not received any formal training, could mesmerize any audience. He could play the tabla and the pakhawaj, and was also the best NCC cadet, in the last years of his school. My bro was passionate about trekking, photography and also managed to represent the Medical College Students Union, for a few years. To put it shortly, he excelled in everything, he put his head into. Despite the fact that he was involved in so many activities, he nevertheless has managed to evolve as a scientist of certain reckoning, today.
I was always, wanting to be, what my brother was like. I longed for all the adulation and importance bestowed on him, by all and sundry, and especially from my parents, I longed for a word of appreciation. Slowly and unknowingly, I started looking down on my own identity and in the process, started losing out on my self esteem. I was emulating and living a personality, which was not my own. When, I come to think of it now, I was not a run-of-the-mill student, either. I earned recognition at school as a good singer, won a prize for writing, and was very interested in quizzing. However, I was so engrossed in donning a pseudo personality, that I failed to identify my own real qualities, believe in them and to nurture them. I failed out on creating an identity for myself.
Time for some introspection and catharsis....Although, it is a boon to be able to excel in many spheres, when one is spoilt with choices, it is important to remember, that, each one has the potential to nurture mediocrity into talent. what is needed is belief in oneself, and the ability to focus and persevere.

Author: Jayeeta Sinha Roy

The Minority Community

I had gone out shopping with my mother, a few months back, and I witnessed something, which perhaps, keep happening around us, but which we fail to observe. It is about this peculiar nature of instant bonding, that aged people seem to strike-up between themselves.
As we were seated in a bus, I noticed my mother smiling at a lady, approximately her age, who was having difficulty alighting the bus. As The lady smiled back at my mother, I was a bit perplexed and asked her, if the lady was an acquaintance. My mother retorted that this was the first time that she had set eyes on this lady.
That very day, as we were, waiting for the jewelery to be packed, at the jewelry shop, entered an aged lady, with a teenager, who plonked on the sofa next to us, and promptly engaged herself in an intense conversation over her cellphone, blissfully unaware of the surroundings. Very soon, the same ritual followed. The lady smiled at my mother, my mother smiled back and the struck up a conversation, with the ease, resembling the ease between two school friends, meeting after years. Soon their conversation inevitably steered towards the ills of the cell phone fixation of the present generation, and its impending doom on the social relationship structure.
This bonhomie, amongst complete strangers, left me somewhat baffled, as we were a generation, that, hardly ever ventured to do anything, without a reason, or a dime, oops, rhyme. We hardly, had the time or the inclination, to greet total strangers. And come to think of it, Why should we? There were so many stressful situations to attend to, in our everyday schedules, when we had time between our phone calls. How did these people manage to take things so easy, relax and loosen up, under such stressful day to day existence? Maybe, like all other minority communities, they loved to huddle together and bond big time.... I comforted, myself....However, Even as I pondered, at my realization, I observed that it was laced with a tinge of jealousy. I wistfully acknowledged to myself, that this bonhomie was something, that I would have gladly liked to share, but was something, that perhaps, I would never achieve.