| Holi § celebration of togetherness |

In this beautiful festival of colors bringing to you two very short extraction of Radhakrishna's celebration of holi. Thier celebration of divine love.Happy holi to everyone... 🌈🌈

Vrindavan's holi ~ 
The most awaited festival of colors has finally made its way into Radharani's life. The first holi of her life that she's able to spend with Krishna. The moment she woke up that day, she went in search for Krishna. 

She ignored everyone who wanted to put those colors on her cheeks and she said she would only play holi when Krishna would make her cheeks red. So she went on finding Krishna but there was no trace of him. She went everywhere in search for him but got disappointed. 
She became very sad with the thought that Krishna didn't came up to celebrate holi with her and was about to return home when an enchanting tune locked her ears and she stood there mesmerized as if bewitched which happened every time she heard that tune then immediately she ran after the place from where the music was coming which she knew can come only from Krishna's flute. She went running to the place and found Krishna behind a tree and playing the flute peacefully.

 ©Ritajapatranabish 

 Radha said in a huffy tone, "Look friends I am searching him everywhere and he is busy here playing flute." Krishna then slowly put his flute down from his lips and asked Radha smiling, "Where did you look for me? " Radha said she asked everyone about him and no one knew his whereabouts. Then Krishna smiled and answered you sought every nook and corner in search of your love you asked for him to everyone other than asking yourself.
 If it's your love then it's only address can be your heart, no one else in this world can find it for you in your behalf and put his hand in Radha's cheek. Her cheeks became red one as she blushed and the other one which still had the color that Krishna put on her cheek. Then Krishna lied down on the soft grass with a smile in his face waiting for Radha to make his cheeks colorful too.

Dwarka's holi~

Here comes the holi once again everything seems so colorful joyful and perfect but at the same time Radha was nowhere even near the place of Dwarka . 

©Dayeetachaudhuri 

The festival reminds Krishna of the days when he was not a prince , not a savior , not anybody’s guide . When he was just a simple cowherd , an excellent flute player , somebody’s lover ,a friend , a trust , his life. 
But the holi is a path of celebrating love and care, to color his Radha as his own …. Till this day every drop of colored water mix with the sparkle shines of Krishna’s tears of joy , as it give rebirth to the divine love of Radha in the heart of Krishna , even if the flute is not playing ,even if there is no cheeks to share the red , 

but there is and will always be the day when all the colors combine with no fear and no hesitation of creating a mess , no limits to cover the sky , no shame of bringing down the almighty to a simple cowherd ….and that is when Krishna find his Radha , feel his only soul within himself playing , laughing , coloring with power of innocence and purity. 
That is the day when no borders and distance matters every palace , every alley and every city becomes the village of Vrindavan where love and heart always rule ,colorful joyful and so imperfect. Standing in the balcony lost in his thoughts suddenly Krishna felt a cloud of abir in towards his way , so he spread his arms to welcome Radha to celebrate their eternal bond by embracing the colors.

❣ Encounter ❣

Chapter~1

 ❆ Ayesha's Story ❆

Like every other day, Ayesha put her glasses on the table and sat by the window wearily and looked out. it was her favorite time of the day. Just before dusk, when the last sunlight of the day reflects below the horizon, the rays of sunlight are clearly seen coming through the clouds , making it look like a painting outside the window .There was only a grassland  outside this portion of the house , hence it was a wide, magnificent view of the sun kissing the hills and dusk falling over the town. Ayesha closed her eyes and sighed. Ayesha turned 24 last week, yet she hadn't grown even one inch taller than five feet , made her really upset sometimes. Ayesha was introvert, shy girl so the attic has become her  beautiful, little world. She used to live with her aunt in Shillong. It was a family of three until Ayesha was sent here when she was 14. It was her parental uncle's house and her room once used to belong to uncle's son , Purav who resented her for taking away his room.

©Dayeetachaudhuri

She used to live in Kolkata with her parents. She was the only child . Ayesha's father used to work in a factory as a mechanic.  With his insufficient salary, their family was  happy. She was 13 when her mother was diagnosed with cancer. She was too young to know how fatal the disease was or what the upshot could be. Her mother was kept under the supervision of doctors and also had to undergo a surgery. Doctors said it was caused by a tumor in her left chest. It used to cause chest ache which she completely ignored and it resulted in cancer. Treatment was expensive so his father had to borrow a large amount money from various lenders in order to save Ayesha's mother though everybody knew all the effort was not of any use. She kept fighting with cancer for several months, her body kept aching more and more as time passed, even after receiving chemotherapy her body gave up and she passed away in the hospital bed. Ayesha saw everything, her mother struggling, crying every time she saw Ayesha at the hospital, longing to go back home till the moment she took her last breath. Ayesha saw her mother's eyes full of desire to live.

That was a hard time for her and her father. Few days after the funeral, Ayesha became 14. In her mother’s absence  ,she used to take care of all the household works. Father used to work overtime. So Ayesha gradually learnt to stay alone at home. Every time she got scared or feel lonely, she used to comfort herself , saying "one day, everything will be fine."

But, nothing was fine. The worst was yet to come. Her father was running into debts. Lenders were putting pressure on him, few young boys used to come home often and shout at him, asking him for the debt repayment.  Ayesha used to see all this happening from behind the kitchen door. Father was miserable.

There was always awful silence in the house. When , winter came that year, father decided to send Ayesha to her uncle's place . Ayesha happily agreed when dad said , " why don't go spend few days at your uncle's ?"

" Really? " She smiled.

©Kinjalachaudhuri

They were sitting on a torn mat on the roof, father was having tea and Ayesha was gladly looking at him. Not everyday father takes time of his work and relaxes and talks to her like this. But little did she know that father was fired for he could not pay the money back which he took from office, moreover this poor man yelled and cried out of agony and grief .

“Your uncle is coming, tomorrow. I have already talked to him. Your better start packing now. And make sure you take everything with you. All your necessities.  “He patted her back and said, “It’s going to be a long vacation."

Ayesha's smile faded away,"you are not coming?"

"No. Father has to go to work. He cannot take leave now."

“For how many days?" Ayesha asked.

"Huh?"

"For how long will I stay there?" Ayesha repeated.

“For few weeks....just go, enjoy, live with your uncle and aunt. You will have your brother there, you won't be lonely. No workloads and only fun. Only work and no fun has made my baby so unhappy. So I decided to send you there. "

"Send me ? What do you mean by that? You will live alone? Take care of the house and do all the work by yourself? You hardly can do a work or cook. I won't leave you. No." Ayesha shouted.

"You will go . Don't forget I am the one who makes the decisions and you will do as I say and that's final. And it is for your own good. "That was the first time she saw her father so angry and sad.

Ayesha still remember the next day when uncle came to take her , she was not crying, she was angry, her father was sending her away on purpose.

So many years have passed, she had turned 24 now. Father used to call sometimes , once in a week , then twice in a month, then suddenly stopped calling her. She knew uncle and father talks on the phone often but it's been so long since uncle heard from him. Ayesha often smiled looking at herself in the mirror ..."quite a vacation".

Shillong is a one of the smallest states in the northeastern part of India. The city lies in the middle of plateau surrounded by rolling hills, that once used to remind the Europeans of Scotland. That's why it is also  called 'Scotland of the east'.

©Dayeetachaudhuri

Uncle had a little house in Shillong. It was one storeyed brick masonry, making it look like a bungalow with a front porch ,a wide space decorated with aunt's flower pots and few vegetables she planted. This was the house where father spent his childhood days with his parents and brothers, therefore, one portion in the front of the house where the kitchen ends , the bricks were broken, the soil was craggy and there was a swing-set once that fell into disuse, had  collected rust in all these years. Main road was outside the metal gate at the entrance and  grassland on the opposite side of the house. The road ended at the house then the extensive meadow went  straight down to the foot of Meghalayan hills.

Ayesha liked the room .It's a small yet cozy space tucked away on the roof. It had a children's bed comfortable enough for Ayesha at the end of the room on the left of door.  There was a dormer window on the opposite of door , used to provide a great view of the widespread meadow meeting the foothills, far from the chaos of the town. There was a small,  dressing unit uncle brought with an oval mirror on it. She gave a little touch of her own decoration , in one part of the closet she put the collection of her books which outnumbered her clothes and somehow managed to put all her clothes in the rest of space and there is a table beside it. Books were her companion in her happy days, in her blues, in loneliness . When things were going wrong , father was in pain , Ayesha stopped going to school and used to read books for long hours ,sitting in the kitchen. That was how the bookworm was born.

Uncle, Niketan Dutta was a high school teacher. He used to  spend most of the time in Assam for work , 4hours 30 mins from Shillong. He always wanted to become a poet. But, poverty triumphed over pen. They were four brothers and grandpa earned very little, father was a school go-er when other two elder brothers fought over a failed business and both left the house with their wives to start new career and moved to new cities in order to start fresh. Therefore, uncle became a teacher and stood by his father's side and a poet stopped dreaming from then on. So, he writes poetry at his leisure now. Last year he published his second book and was praised by so many poetry lovers. Ayesha read the first book he brought for her , she liked it.

Aunt and brother never used to hover over her. Mrs. Dutta used to suffer from a pain in her right knee. Doing all the works at home, walking back and forth often made her ill. She was annoyed, when she came to know Ayesha would be living with them but gradually they became good friends when Mrs. Dutta found a lovely,helpful ally in Ayesha. Ayesha's life was unlike any Cinderella story. Aunt never tormented her nor asked her to work , instead she chose to take care of her own duties and she also looks after her brother when aunt is sick.

 Uncle used to come home every weekend. Hence, weekends were the days when she got to stay alone at home since three of them used to go out to have their own family time together. There were many lakes, parks to visit in Shillong, inundated with tourists and local people. She never regreted saying"no" , everytime she was asked if she wanted to join them, because somewhere she had always felt that her presence could bother their family time. Rather those days were her happy days, she stayed at home, she got to read the books she used to bring from the library every sunday.

©kinjalachaudhuri

the next was sunday, Ayesha had to go to the library to bring a new book , so she decided to have dinner early. She spent long time sitting by the window, thinking about - what else ? Mum and pappa. Finally she got up and put on another sweater. It was colder that day . During the month of February to march it used to remain cold and nights were freezing.  She picked up the lotion and started rubbing it on her hand. "  It's the valentine's week. " She told herself,looked up at the mirror and realized her hair had grown long, her ivory skin had become paler due to dry weather and cheeks had become chubbier. Round, maroon glasses on her small, snub nose and big brown eyes with natural, long lashes made her look no beautiful. Who would fall for such a doll face? 
Mum was her best friend . Ever since she lost her mother she had felt so lonely that sometimes in that small room it used to become hard to breathe, felt like an unfamiliar solitude choking her. Father didn't keep in touch anymore. Though it had been so many years, she never could fraternize well with uncle's family. Loneliness was all she had now but that didn't bother her anymore. But the heart wants what it wants. Somewhere there was a blank space she longed for someone to come and fill up.

"Ayesha, please take your dinner ." Aunt's voice paused Ayesha's thoughts, she ran downstairs.

TO BE CONTINUED------->Chapter~2(Click to continue read)

❖ Where the rain is born ❖

Ringing in my ear all along

Calling me at the shore where I belong...

Where the broken one heals

Where a cold heart get the feels.

Noise that covers it all

The rhythm of the waterfall..

Dance of the flowers that has no name

But nobody complains , one can't be blamed.

Soaking the water splash, every gray stone

Carving its way each drop making a way for home.

I wonder where the destination is....

Is it always been the estuary for the ultimate bliss?

It falls to go up
©Dayeetachaudhuri

Or we were wrong all these years

Maybe it is the time where every drop disappears..

Up in the sky

There's a stranger.. Standing by.

Is he really a stranger..

Or a blank mind full of believer

Believing the creator

Believing in the nature

Believes to return to the way

Again and again to sail away...

So drop 'em all

One more time like the water-fall..

But Even this way it hits the rocks...

Also mother nature sure is in shock...

I cry out loud... Oh! Mother wish I could separate

The one who truly cares unlike the "literates" ...

If only world can be felt like my own...

But now I see every flesh becoming a stone.

Becoming a teardrop when its coming down.

Fail to find a forest as there is only town

What changed after he created who himself is fate?

©Dayeetachaudhuri

Well nothing .... Its just we all started to recreate

Started to believe we needed more

More to live life than a peaceful rivershore

Instead of finding a reason for why the stars are there

For once in a lifetime wait a moment and stare.

Why can't we stay unequipped for a while

Appreciate the creativity before launching a missile

Discover the children's desire

Before shouting "fire"

Make a future for the son

Before handing him a gun

We have all started like the waterfall..... Powerful and strong

©Dayeetachaudhuri

By giving your all be a pure subtle river

And write destiny to come back as rain

Instead of taking it all be a  soiled  sewer

And end up drying away from the drain

Either way you will went up and high

Where the creator stand with a sigh

He is nothing but a story teller

We are all lucky to be his charechter

But now The world lost its livelihood....

Moment the value of cheque exceeded the storybook.

♥♥♥♥

~ |Martyrdom| ~

Thousands mile away from home

©Ritajapatranabish

Walking, running and fighting alone
Never to rest or never to cry
Just to lend us peace, they try

Lord give them a whisper of joy
Nothing much just a battlefield in destroy
They live as a soldier then die like that too
Never dreamed of dying in a hands of fool
Betrayal was not their destiny
A bullet or a war zone it was meant to be.

The way that they served don't forget
To respect their bravery two poles have met

You will understand the
Sounds of 21 gun shots
Even the heaven was empty
As to flower their tombs, came all our gods.

When a soldier die their must be no religion
Just respect comes to heart with an utmost devotion .....

May the light that ignite the righteousness
Will also Marshal the way
of the present to glory
their foregoing .... 






Just a little poem dedicated to our brave soldiers in PULWAMA, KASHMIR,INDIA
salute to the bravery of them.... tears run dry of their family....even if we can't do anything.......Just Pray for them  just for 10 seconds if you can ..... together we can collect thousands of good wishes for them.Thank you.

❧Oblivion❧

Climb the mountain of hope to see the lights of
next morning~ picture©Ritajapatranabish

They say the world's a stage. Everyone in this world has his own part to play. We are performers. Not all of us are perfect. But not all of us are indifferent. Our roles are already decided. Here no scripts are written, even the next moment is  unpredictable. Not every act turns out the way we want them to. We fail. We learn and pick ourselves up again but never leave the stage until the act ends. Every life here has its own stories,every existence has its own purpose, every life suffers, here peace can be destroyed any moment when cruelty takes over, here ferocity smites righteousness and felicity is not assured. Here we fear the unforeseeable.


There are hardships and obstacles on the way to tranquility. It is always an uphill journey and never easy for no one. The path we walk strangles our motion, the faces we meet are devoid of emotion and every step tries to pull us down. The irony is once we start our journey everybody is obliged to take the path that leads to the unavoidable consequence and we can never avoid the inevitable. Wounds become a companion and scars are the teachers. So, it's ok if you get hurt. Injured is the strongest here. Wounded is the invincible. We are the ones who shed tears when we lose our beloved and we are the ones who strangle love with disgust and hatred. Enmity and war will never end , still we survive, we fight for existence. One chapter ends,another comes and the story takes turn. We all face the ups and downs,we reach high , we fall through and call it life.


When path divides and opens up the hell holes.... That is the moment on the stage  where climax begins. Where the audience will stick up to your pride and strength.... They will hope to see you fly, fight, run, shout even cry but still carry on, you cannot be the one who chooses to surrender nor escaping is an option. Every act finishes when one  leaves the stage forever, another fills the gap right away.

A universe is a stage spinning around with
you~©Dayeetachaudhuri

Whether or not the act has been satisfactorily completed, it comes to an end and one day everybody has to leave, our existence vanishes into nothingness. If you find the way to cheat the eyes who are watching you to glorify the stage you will serve a lie.
But if you create your stage by glorifying the world around you , you will live even after the curtain drops. You leave an impact on the audience. But, what we never ask ourselves is , if we all are stage players, then whom are those eyes? Who is the audience?
ᖳᖳ If there is an answer to this...in your mind then there is still hope and happiness standing on the next turn for the whole universe cause after all of this if you believe that there can be something or someone who is responsible for your rising in the morning then you are the luckiest person ......as you are the one who choose to take a part of being in the team to prove the audience  that it isn't over yet rather a story is about to begin and a protagonist is yet to lead.

~Pioneer Of Destruction~

Pretext:A personal view of  the worst crime of all through the Draupadi vastraharan scene from the Epic of Mahabharat...How will the ultimate judge will open up himself to stand by the victims even today.To know about  Draupadi vastraharan.Its the link at the end of the poem.

Silence took over the palace where only pride use to rule;

Time has also stopped....Astonished watching the desperate fool.

Whole universe were shouting but there was no sound.

Only a string of pledge were the so called bound.

Two pair of eyes with an inhuman brutality;

Reflection of my esteem i saw, when they crossed the periphery.

Today there was no bow, no eternal truth,no mace,no loyalty;

World was a witness of that shameless form of royalty.

Down on the ground there I fall

Look at my dignity draped across the hall

Why my embrace is a hammered pride.

When it should have been an armor in tide.

I know it was you, only your eternity 

Feather of omni-truth Protecting my dignity ...

Cinquen warriors  just shattered to the ground 

Crying as infant where it should have been a conch sound

Drastically broke down inch by inch 

That's when my hand paired only to recall your hymn

Where were you when I needed you the most.

Where were your existence, was

it just in my hopes? 

Did not needed you to cover my respect 

Just wanted you to be there for me when I expect.

The eternal nature was bystander of my existence

Your screams was the reason of my absence

I wasn't with you when the blemish were there

As you were here with me sharing your torment to be bare

Vigilance is even out of my sway,it tores them apart

Only who can survive after giving it all away

You don't know about this pain... 

Even if I was a viewer my tears would rain

Every second would be a year to bare it

I know you wouldn't get even if I share it

And what if you are aware of it all.

What if you have to control a tear's waterfall.

The scars you wore was curved on me,

Carried this agony which never left me free.

Today in this palace,

every teardrop was tornado of my blood rain.

Every yarn strand of your clothes was my vein.

The moment when you heard the eternal silence,

That was the sound of shattering every bit of my existence.

You weren't alone there to face,

The universe cried with you when I was dead.

My mind and heart was in conflict

Otherwise how can I question the one 

who's the preventer of every defeat 

But oh! Almighty what should I do 

When I am losing control over my mind and my heart too

My mind says to keep me calm, 

The society need to see me holding my charm

These are two roads that leads to nothing 

How Can I decide.. Help me with my feeling

Let’s take the road where nobody ran before

Let’s crave a path where women can say "not any more"

Let’s Teach this court today how to judge

Let’s loose control for once and take charge

Its no time to be society

Nobody is anybody's property

Turn the event into a glory

Become a title greater than me and write history,

Play a commander of fire Droupadi!....Go and be angry..

Know about Draupati vastraharan:click here and read about the game of dice

|| MAGIC OF COLORS || ~ FINAL PART

PLEASE  READ THE PREVIOUS BLOG TO FOLLOW  THIS PART 2 OF THE STORY LINK IS HERE:  ||MAGIC OF COLORS||

PL

She added,” he is, he is getting ….. getting married , actually. Alex almost jumped . “ what? When? How? How it all happened? When did he decide to…. I  mean….. suddenly ? marriage?”

I was stunned . I asked, “ but why acting so weird, why not telling us then. You could inform me. You know how important he is to his friends.  Then why did you not call us?” I almost shouted at her.

©Dayeetachaudhuri

Aunty looked down and what she said, that freaked me out.” She is a very good girl. Our family met her parents at a wedding a year ago and we liked her very much. She is of same age of Sumer. Few months ago , her mom and I were chatting on the phone and her mom said she wanted to marry off to a good family. Then, we thought Sumer and decided to…..” she was looking at me. I could not even react .

There was one thing about Sumer only his family was aware of and me among the friends. he was never into girls. He liked men.

I kept staring at her with anger and shock. There was a question in my eyes she answered, “ he is happy with the decision. “

“ No he is not. “ I yelled. Because , ever since I knew him I was told that nobody in his house supported him . Never. When it became unacceptable, they started to treat him badly, looked for god families , good girls and forced him to get married. Those shitty brains in his family used to think “ what will people say?” they were scared. What if society does not accept him? But this? This is the solution? To make the society believe that he is Man they think he is.  Being a gay is never a crime. They never understood. Uneducated people in his house did not actually know what or how he was or how much pain he was in. When everybody lost faith in him, he found me whom he could rely on , who was always there for him. Maybe, that’s what made our bond so strong. 

My head was burning. I got up and left. I could feel his agony. I had to meet him . I called .  No answer. Left messages. No reply. Wrote that I knew everything and wanted to meet him at least for once .

There was a park not so far from his house. We used to go and sit on two old swings there for hours. I wanted him to meet me there. But how? He never answered.

Waited for him in the park but he did not show up. Went to his house again. No sign of him.

The very next day I had flight  . I left angry and upset. How can I forget that? How can I forget what I left , how I left and how much I miss everything I left. I wish things were different….not so complicated, not so heart-breaking .  Left my hometown , but not with a good memory nor a smile.

Then, for one year I kept contacting my friends asking for Sumer’s whereabouts.  But, nobody knew nothing about him or where he or how he is. But, one thing they confirmed that he never got married. I heaved a sigh of relief after getting that news. The people I was asking about Sumer must have informed his mom .  Because, she called. And after what she said, everything was clear. I learned that the day before wedding day, he left the house. He was angry, did not want to stay in that house where he has no right to live  his life the way he wants to, where he is always looked down upon , where his dearest parents are never supportive . He packed bags and left. Aunty was crying .

Then she said he now lies in Noida, Mumbai.  He has a job at a renowned company and recently he has moved in with a man, three years older than him, he owns a business and runs an orphanage, has his own house in the outskirts of the town…… and  most important , they are happy together.

I am happy with what I have today. But , maybe not for long. After few months, I will again have to go back to that obvious discomfort in that house in Delhi where we  somehow manage to stay together and call it a ‘happy’ family. Same old shit everyday. But I am glad to hear about Sumer. He has got a new family now…. love, peace, comfort, shelter and the freedom he was longing for….he has everything.

This year , India’s top court overturned a  157 year old law criminalizing gay sex in a landmark victory for gay rights in the world’s largest democracy. It was told by the chief justice “ the freedom can only be fulfilled when each of us realizes that the LGBT community possesses equal rights.’’ It shows the rapid social change in India by diminishing the wrong history .People celebrated after the Supreme court verdict in every city, every corner of India.  So many people like my friend , Sumer are happy and free today, they are finally given equal rights and respect in the society and will not ever be looked down upon . So many families , so many lives have finally got to taste the pleasure of freedom.

PLEASE  READ THE PREVIOUS BLOG TO FOLLOW  THIS PART 2 OF THE STORY LINK IS HERE:  ||MAGIC OF COLORS||

PL