The “Happy Hour” Margaritas & Mojitos: A Happy World Poetry Day.

Over dinner at the restaurant, at its ‘Happy Hour’,

we were jubilant to say the least – on Margaritas:

At a price of two we got four – ordered four more,

yet cointreau, lime juice, Tequila – a perfect mix.

 

Dislodging slices of lemon, from the glasses rim –

tasting salt on it, we gently squeeze lime juice in:

ingredients shaken well with ice, tingles tongues

spiced up with prawns, lamb, also fish n chips. 

 

Our conversation light with drizzles of sadness –

to thaw frozen hearts it takes not many cocktails: 

Stirring your soul where the past is a hurricane –

like lava hurt melts overflowing a brim of reason. 

 

Night after we return for the ‘Happy Hour’ bonus –

they run out of cointreau to our disenchantment,

but as wells of sadness haven’t yet exhausted, 

to infuse in it joy we opt for eight Mojitos instead.

 

#worldpoetryday #poetry #love #sadness #happiness #margaritas #mojito #dinner #loveandlife

Happiness Is An Attitude

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Happiness does not depend on what you have in life – it is the ability to condition your mind to the state of contentment inspite of your external circumstances. Such that those who see your smiles may be sceptic of the cause behind it as they cannot have it – inspite of everything that they think they have more than you do.
The surest way to find happiness, is in first having a personal vision for your life even if it is to be the ‘best’ mother or house wife… and setting goals to achieve that vision, such that climbing every rung envelops you in the essence of achievement and contentment.
Without a spiritual bent of mind, by dwelling in shallow and frivolous thoughts, and looking at other’s aspirations and weighing their ability to achieve them – you can never find the light towards real happiness.
If you allow your smiles to be dependent on your children’s successes, your loyal and doting wife/husband’s ability to get you whatever you want, your financial situation and lifestyle – your smile can never emanate from your depths. The happiest moment then will only be fleeting as a butterflies life, for profound and constant happiness – is deep rooted within yourself and emanates only from your “self” esteem.
Don’t rely on anyone else for your happiness and self-worth. Only you can be responsible for that. If you can’t love and respect yourself – no one else will be able to make that happen. Accept who you are – the good and the bad – and make changes – not because you think someone else wants you to be different.

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Once you become fearless and habituated to standing close to the edge, from years of practice, you don’t really care about the threats, baseless fears, inferiority complex and insecurities of those who preach from their limited exposure and shallow thinking. You would rather fall and learn newer lessons each time, than allow their negativity and pessimism restrict your thinking, even if they like to construe – your self confidence that can only come from having taken that dive so often to successfully surface and swim back to shore – as arrogance and irresponsible behavior.
— Shuvashree Chowdhury

“One of the most tragic things I know about human nature is that all of us tend to put off living. We are all dreaming of some magical rose garden over the horizon instead of enjoying the roses that are blooming outside our windows today.”
— Dale Carnegie
“Sometimes your joy is the source of your smile, but sometimes your smile can be the source of your joy.”
— Thich Nhat Hanh

After The Rain: In The Land Of Happiness

 

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I can still hear the rain pattering

on red and green ridged tin rooftops –

against silhouettes of mountainous forests

in varied lush tones of emerald.

 

Grey clouds are soaring skyward, as fog

steadily descends: between clouds

and fog a magnificent light bursts-

illuminating the land of thunder dragons.

 

Ink-blue sky peeps intermittently below

the grey clouds right through the splendid light:

Even as rain stops and fog creates a halo over

the stupa’s many tiered golden roofs.

 

A man or two in tartan brown and black Gho

have descended onto the washed streets,

as a woman in a purple silk Kira walks by my window

cautiously, as do cars ascending a light-swathed valley.

 

In the distance I see grey peaks, white peaks

that are etched out in thick smog,

as clouds through them hop in and out in turns –

as if characters playing their part for a live audience.

 

The green wood’s stage irradiated as if by Arclight

is visible in fog, also mud-tracks on hills in the backdrop:

as hearts in ‘the land of happiness’ – Bhutan illumined

by spirituality: are unfazed by anguished deluges.

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Go Away: Live And Let Live

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Go away: Live And Let Live…

You can have your freedom,

But then don’t seek my love.

You can flap your wings wide,

Don’t seek access to my trust.

If you don’t strive to be mine,

My heart will again open up:

It’ll allow in one who belongs,

Who doesn’t seek reckless fun.

You leave my heart’s door open,

It’ll shut you out, so never return.

Just go, go away to your freedom,

I’ll choose one who truly belongs.

I wish you a love that has no bars,

A heart that’s yours, his, everyone’s

There are freedom seekers I attract,

My cage is of gold, refracts the sun.  

Gilt metal birdcage

Automation birdcage, gilt metal with feathered birds and pearl eggs in nest, 19th century. Associated with Queen Victoria © Royal Collection

 

Till Love Do Us Apart.

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Till Love Do Us Apart.

            One evening, a few years back, over coffee with a friend at a resto-cafe, he soulfully narrated to me the story of the opposition to his current romantic liaison. He had lost his wife – a decade younger than him, after a prolonged battle with Cancer, a couple of years back. Now the strong resistance to his desire to marry again, to be happy and live a full life, ironically came from his daughter. She lived in London since the last decade, along with her British husband. And was an ex-journalist having worked long in Delhi where the family lived and is currently a publishing professional. His son was married and lived away with his wife and children in Calcutta.

            My friend, Mr. Boruah, was about 75 years, at the time of this conversation. A rather successful businessman at one time, he now lived a retired and quiet life, though as fit and handsome as a man of 60 might be. He still played Golf regularly at his club, in spite of a weakening elbow. And had his daily measure of the best Scotch whisky before dinner, and as much as was possible, tried to fill his life with intellectually gregarious and artistic company.

            I had first met Mr. Boruah in an official capacity in Calcutta, and we had become friends over varied interactions. I tend to strike friendships easily with men and women, decades older than I am, as I can relate to them just as well as I do with those my age or younger. This is perhaps because I find mutual respect and admiration the necessary requisite to any relationship. And I find that people who are much older are usually more respectful in friendships, as they are confident of who they are, of their views and opinions, and their place in the world. Personal and professional insecurity, jealousy, aggressive and rude condescension resulting from the two, in my view, is the most effective deterrents to friendship. I like to respect people for whom and what they are irrespective of success or failure, rich or poor and am rarely judgemental, but above that I value my self-respect.    

            Over our second cup of coffee, his with ‘Sugar free’ from being diabetic, Mr Boruah went on to share with me the details of the cause of his sad and forlorn look, on my prodding him on it: There was a young woman, about his daughter’s age, Mr. Boruah had known during his earlier working years, who was much in love with him since long. He had been friends with her but did not take her romantic gestures seriously before, in fact had been rather amused by it. But after his wife’s death, this woman who also knew his daughter well, had been pestering him to marry her. She was professionally successful, financially well off, and though over fourty years, had refused to marry anyone other than the man she loved – Mr Boruah. What did it matter if he was 75 years?

             “So why don’t you marry her Mr. Boruah?” I blurted excitedly, rather pleased on his behalf, that he would have a companion in his sunset years, as I was rather fond of him.

            “No, I can’t.” he replied stiffly.

            “But why…why not?” I pestered him, and then smiling I added, “You’ll get a new lease of life…trust me! All those heart ailments you have, will be resolved…As you’ll have a new heart – won’t you?”

            He could not but blush, as he replied – “I wish my daughter were as cool as you.”

            “Ah! So it’s your daughter who has a problem, has she…Well, it is truly her problem not yours, Mr. Boruah” I replied stiffly. “She is happily far way and does not bother as to how you’re going to live alone here. Doesn’t she see and realise how lonely you are and how difficult it increasingly is for you to live by yourself, so what if you have a fleet of butlers and chauffeurs?”

            “My daughter dislikes this woman and will not allow her to take her mother’s place, she argues.” Mr. Boruah stated emphatically. “Every time I’ve tried to broach the topic, of remarrying, she gets furious, and then won’t talk to me for months. Then even I don’t call and now our relationship is rather strained.”

            “That’s rather selfish of your daughter Mr. Boruah, isn’t it?” I said firmly. “Do you want me to talk to her? I’m sure I can convince her, even though I don’t know her at all. She needs to understand that you are so lucky to find genuine love and another chance to live a wholesome life at your age. Why would she wish to steal your happiness from you? That too when she will not have you live with her in London, or come here and live with you.”

            “I know, but who will explain all that to her…if you call she will be furious I even told anyone of this. What upsets me is this young lady – who just refuses to get married to anyone else but me. I’ve coaxed her for the last ten years, but she is just as adamant, as my daughter is against it, to only marry me or no one else.”

            “If it’s your daughter’s insecurity and fear over this new woman’s claim to your money and properties, you could make a will, dividing everything between your daughter and son. This way she won’t have a problem with you marrying I hope.”

            “My daughter knows well, that this woman is rather affluent herself, and she comes from an illustrious family.”

            “Then it is sheer self-centeredness Mr. Boruah, on your daughter’s part.” I insisted.

            Mr. Boruah remained silent, looking at his empty coffee cup for a while, then looking up he said sullenly, “I am so overwrought with agony from the strained relationship with my daughter. If it was only about me, I would never suggest getting married. But I do care about this young woman, who has sacrificed her own marital prospects only because of me.”

            “You owe it to yourself Mr. Boruah, to be happy till the last moment of your life. More so, that God has given you a new lease of life.”

            “I know. But God gives you with one hand, and takes away with another” he grinned.

            “So ironic, you know, since my father’s passing away, I hoped my mother would meet someone, a friend, a companion.” I said thoughtfully. “But you’ve met her, what a difficult and stubborn woman she is…the very idea is beyond her comprehension. I’ve even considered various matches in my neighbourhood (I laughed)…but she will beat me with a broom and throw me out of the house for suggesting such a horrendous thing – she says.”

            Mr. Boruah smiled, “Well, knowing your mother, it is quite expected, even though she is younger than me.”

            “You see, Mr. Boruah, for all my broad mindedness about wishing my mother would remarry, I’d never allow anyone to take my father’s place – neither in my heart and life, nor do I wish to replace him in my mother’s life. I just wish upon her to have a friend, a companion, and lead a full life again. You know how in the last years of my father’s life, Ma was so focussed on his illness and seeing him through it, she had no friends or life of her own. She has no one, except for my sister and me, and ironically we live in other cities. I truly wish she was not alone. This is why I wish for her to have a man in her life…to be married perhaps.”

            “My dear, how I wish my daughter would think like you” Mr Boruah said, as he patted my hand, then asked the waiter for the cheque. After the waiter left with the bill folder and we got up to leave he added sadly – “You see, for my daughter’s sake I can give anyone and anything up, as I will this woman for good…I mean, I must, part with a new love after all, for my daughter’s love. I owe it to her. My happiness is not more important than her happiness.”

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The pictures are only for representation

The Rain Song

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The Rain Song

 

Sitting on my balcony

I watch the green sight,

The top of trees quiver –

Their leaves drip light.

 

The sky dark as night,

Yet with hints of light;

Crows hop restlessly –

On branches astride.

 

Thunder rips my soul,

Light dazzles my sight –

As sound of steady rain 

Soaks my heart’s quiet.

 

Music playing indoors

Pervades my senses –

Lyrics soft and tender

As if rain in my mind.

 

Amidst gleams of light –

Thunder roaring aloud;

I hear soft rain on leaves

Singing a ballad of my life.

 

 

ImageI’m scribbling this spontaneously on my notepad, on the spread out 2nd floor balcony of my mother’s house in Calcutta, as I watch the rain, home alone. Happiness is in such little things ☺️😍

Imagination Of Love

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Imagination Of Love

 

Why is it that I miss you so – only

 days since you’re at another shore?

Why am I not able to make you see

You’ve begun to mean the world to me?

 

Why does it not matter how you feel

So long as my heart can intone steadily?

After long, I now feel light and cheery,

Of my loneliness I’ve learnt to be free.

 

Thinking of ‘us’ now makes me smile

As in my imagination we have a life:

In which we wake together at dawn,

Each of us to our private thoughts.

 

Over tea as we overlook the blue sea-

From our balcony, amidst tall trees:

We see the sun beaming cheerily-

Caressing the sea – gurgling shyly.

 

As I giggled in your arms last night,

When you made love to me teasingly.

You never cease to make me smile,

As it also gives you a steady high.

 

In your mind you also play this scene-

 Where you make love to me tender, sweet.

Though in real life we’re as yet to meet,

I can now feel every inch of your being.

 

Imagination is like the gleam of the sun,

That permeates where nothing else can:

It warms or scorches us with its intense rays,

Shielding us from life’s cruel, virulent haze.

 

The lines above were inspired by the ones below:

“I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.” ― Pablo Neruda

 

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CROSSROADS

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CROSSROADS

For long I waited to get a response —

A hope in my heart I silently nursed,

A dream I earnestly and joyously cherished —

One day I would have my wishes fulfilled.

 

I put in all the effort in my might —

With fervour I pursued my goals astride:

Along the way I neglected many other sights,

Cause I was so focused on getting it right.

 

On the way disappointments did come

When I thought my goal was out of sight:

It was then that I looked up to God —

A prayer in my heart — to light my path!

 

Today I stand at the Crossroads of Life,

Wondering which road my life will ignite:

The path to my right seems so uphill,

The one to the left looks easy but so still!

 

The road in front may take me too far off,

The one behind I might mistakenly leave behind!

How do I discern which road I need to take —

To reach my destination — my dreams to partake?

 

What if in the sole quest for my goal

I’m so far gone that all other paths close:

Will I ultimately  be happy I tried and lost —

Or will I be unhappy to have lost it all!

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HIDE N SEEK

Waves softly breaking on the Sea Shore,

Feeling the cool sand between my toes

Sitting in the full moon’s orange glow

Silently I wondered on life once more

 

Another year has briskly gone by

Like quick sand in a dessert night

Pulling me into the depths of time

My head barely out of the earth’s line

 

Ever since a little girl I was

Excited when my birthday came along

Knowing the next year would  be

Closer to the finish of life’s marathon

 

Now with the completion of a lap

When my birthday comes back

The fatigue I invariably shirk away

Like a girl again to enjoy the day

 

Lost in thought while I was

The glowing moon just disappeared

Looking up when I could not see

Dejection came creeping into me

 

Closing my eyes I made a wish

Opening them the wish fulfilled

The moon was in its glorious glow

Peeking at me with the clouds below

 

Hide n Seek playing with me

Skirting in and out of the clouds merrily

Like happiness has always been

Playing Blind Mans Buff with me

 

I closed my eyes again, wondering

Would the moon be there once again?

If I opened my eyes to see – It was,

Its magnificent glow on the shimmering sea

 

After a hiatus when the moon peeks

It illuminates the world beautifully

Happiness after a break when it comes

Likewise – fills my life magnanimously