Tubelight in room

I see your heart beats,
the light shrinks as if,
never would it glow,

you made me see you did,
you saw me endless nights
The last spur I think,

Time I forgot,
Switch made you shrink

And the darkness till the finger
till to the switch it may linger

Never ever forever
you are light and no rude

I study books and wonder
Could you,......??

http://www.a1books.co.in/mirabile-solitude/itemdetail/819059544X/

http://www.a1books.co.in/mirabile-solitude/itemdetail/819059544X/

A contemplation

Connecting a life needs to be a set of dynamic thoughts without any words, for words disguise our confidence in ourselves, an obstruction to the perception of reality.

When we put forth a proposal which is motivated by the words of economic wisdom which we too believe it not to be the act guided by our heart, which strives to say that “you were supposed to do it that way, even you acknowledged it at that point of time. Words confuse our state of being, since it provides us multi dimensional way to express the self and get rid off when the action is over. Though it has not the direct effect on us, but imperatively our conscience feels great sense of pain & guilt. The emission of the rays by the sore soul is never good for health of the person himself & for others as well. That is the reason why positive ideas does not appears to be practical and so, by re use of words we get seduced leading to the undesired actions . Now there lies another truth, which indeed is the global soul as one. We forget that personification of our greed or to be selfish is to live in mirage. The mirage is the belief that I have my soul and it is just me, while “I” is  a part of the universal soul or even if we deny it, sooner or later we feel that the person sitting nearby is really nearby & the person reading, writing or understanding this text is not different at all, but one. Even these words typed here carry no meaning, because these words are outcome of feeling to share (30), feeling to type (20), feeling to bring people closer (40) and usage of words by proper arrangement(10).

The above three are feelings, which is undefined but a perception of reality, the usage of words is a matter of training but when we look closer we would find that training also can’t be understood by our body & bodies don’t lie.

My Light

My Teacher, My light...
Because of whom my language, the tool which helped me to pave the path from ignorance to the wisdom ; I owe you which shall remain unfulfilled, for my work shall never be able to face your greatness.

About my Teacher (Dr. C.M. Mukherjee)

M.A. Ph.D. in English and First Class First ( Gold Medalist) in M.A. Philosophy, Taken a Special Course from the Pelman Institute ( London); Professor of English, with more than 40 years of teaching  experience of PG and M. Phil Classes; Examiner in Several Universities, a subject expert of quite a few. A recognized Ph D Guide of Pt. Ravishankar Shukla University, Raipur, has produced some fine, knowledgeable Scholars. Also a visiting Professor of the same. Besides many research papers, authored a  book  on a non-dramatic poet, Edmund Spenser. An active participant and a resource person in English conferences and seminars.The Ex- President of the Indian Theosophical Society. Also indented in the Executive Body of Sri Aurobindo Society, Pondichery (India), the Raipur Branch,. In HNLU    a member of the Proctorial Board, the Anti- Ragging Committee, the Editorial Board and the Literary and Debating Society

My Book

http://www.a1books.co.in/searchresult.do?vendorId=119-17-204-90-249-222-197-245

Once upon a time

A Cobbler in the Scottish terrains walks with nonsense thoughts...
And he competed shine of shoes against shine of the green field half covered in light and half, the dark..once upon a time, he was a saint..

A Prisoner's life in 5 feet/10 feet cell depicts things we vaule nothing..
--> A few feet walk for him becomes a luxury... once a time in a day he is allowed to feel sunlight..

--> Value of money loses in mind and so.. the barter system takes social life in prehistoric.. In a way, individual identity loses its shrine in the 24/7 uniform..

--> Ridiculous things he or his family did back at home strolls his mind and memory.. He wants them more... Wife yelling at him, Son demanding Bike..and he,reading sunday newspaper..He misses them..

--> You have lot of time there to spend... you lose track of minutes...

--> The one thing that keeps you sane is A4 size writing pad and 2-3 pens.

--> You want to feel handsome when your wife shall be coming next Saturday and you shave..but the new shirt(white),you can't wear as you can be confused with jail staffs..

--> At your mother's funeral, you may be allowed to attend,and console yourself and family.. After the rituals, you may feel to stay back.. But you feel the loneliness back in the cell that day..

--> The day you are released, you become a changed human being who has deeply experienced what is family and what means freedom, till then you have experienced it in books only...
-Once upon a time, he was free but not open... Once upon a time.

I

I rose years apart,
the Sun that never depart....
A felony caused the tryst,
beside the bank of my country,
Reminds me of the sorrow,
Sometime,
Somewhere is tomorrow,
Picking a lost feather,
I placed on my throne,
I am the king ruling none...
I am a part of soul I search,

A tryst with a droplet..
Of a spring that dried,
keeping in my palm yet..
a pinch of dream..
it would be ocean,
sometime,
Someday...