Random thoughts blog

 Gratitude             - Sudiptaa Bhattacharya  Hold my hand tight  to guide, Through the path of life. Let's explore and dive. Lost in art, That mummifies the dirt.

 Night to Hope          - Sudiptaa Bhattacharya It's night, It's dark. The clouds, On stars. Shimmering behind, Can't be seen. A Kokila marks, Hailing the dawn. Golden glows, Behind the white clads. The journey ends, Through glimmering dawn.

 Renu, a lady of 28 years is a teacher at a government school. Her interests in academics led her to pursue PhD. She is a girl who rules her own life with a decent dominance of her existence. Renu 's parents are aging and they are reluctant to make her get married. Renu the charming girl, who mixes up with every possible decent human being is a lonely girl deep down. She finds every human relation is complicated and this is the reason she doesn't want to extend her family. But being a teacher she loves to give a nurtured upbringing to the new generation. Unlike her parents she had no desire to marry anybody.                                 It's around 12O'clock at night Renu had thoughts passing down through her unconscious mind, that she could observe through her consciousness. Tomorrow a family is coming with their son to visit Renu and her family at their place so that they could have a talk reg...

 Shrishti is lying down on her bed, it is a morning of March. The clock marks 8:00pm. Though she had slept last night still her body and mind is too fatigued. She is numb mentally and physically for the last couple of months. She got betrayed by her husband, went through an abortion and now under anti-depressant medication. For her, the whole world around her has come to an end unlike the meaning of her name. She is looking out through the window beside her bed but the morning sun does not provide a fresh start to her day. In order to know Shrishti and why is she in such a condition, come, let us look into her past life.                        For the last two years Shristhi was married to a man who was very rude to her. Though there was no evidence of physical assault but her husband's behaviour was insensible towards her. Being a girl with middle class moral values she tried to cope with her husband inspite of every kind...

Reading Binodini Dasi's autobiography, as a reader my inner self felt that the passive actress of the then theatre read my vulnerable mind. A real life character that at first served the economic interest of her family then served both economic and sexual interest of theatre and of the elite males (the 'babus') respectively. Poverty drove her to stage, and eventually theatre became her passion, her spirit of life. Being a widow since very childhood, in her youthful days she always wanted to have a family along with her theatrical life.                       Last Wednesday on 8th of March, on women's day I was fortunate enough to witness "Binodini Opera" at Academy of Fine Arts, where the eminent actress Sudipta Chakraborty played the role of Binodini Dasi. This is for the first time I felt the catharsis sitting in the audience chair by witnessing the tragic illusion created on the stage. Tears rolled down my cheeks as Binodini's pai...

Valentine      -  Sudiptaa Bhattacharya Is it the butterflies felt in the stomach? Or is it that inner peace? Is it that adrenaline rush? Or is it that comfort seren? It's the magic in mind. The divinity in soul. A state, felt by body and mind. A feeling, a status, Of one body and soul. Why another soul to get mould? For sooth and comfort?

To Mommy      - Sudiptaa Bhattacharya  Few hours, And then, The wait is over.  Almost close to the hour, That marks her birth. An entire self, Of flesh and blood With a soul that charmed. The self, That is worthy of creating my self. With a power, To give me birth, To bring me up, To fight all the battles of life, Both for her, And of course for me. Protecting me, Like an angel, From every malevolence. For everything I am Or I will become, You remained a constant pillar. I am an indebted daughter, With no interest, Of paying you back in return. But, to be with you, And love you, With immense care forever. With my love, Would try to make, The day of your majestic birth, A little special.

  Path         - Sudiptaa Bhattacharya A tired soul, Moving in the destined path of unrest. Fatigued of traveling, Through the rocky terrain. With a desire, To Stop and rest. May be the eternal rest. With a pause, Marked by the death knell.

 Mental health is still a taboo in our society. People don't dare to speak up for this matter. Our mind is also a part of our body, it's nothing different. The emotional rush is nothing but the hormonal rush inside the body, that is caused by surrounding stimulations. In our life we go through many difficult situations that causes tremendous emotional rush, causing mental disturbance.           At different ages the emotions take its different forms with the gradual increase in maturity. As a person is on the first stage of adulthood life changes to a great extent. Different obstacles arise in achieving the dream goals in life, several failures occur, sometimes sudden success causes uncontrollable emotional rush too. In this stage of life people come across many new individuals in life, also the known faces become unknown at times with their real colours, many of them are already into professional life and faces politics their, some might go through their f...

  Nature, an artist                    - Sudiptaa Bhattacharya A vast stretch of forest, River flowing through it. Up there, echoed the hills. Pilled up rocks, that connect all these. Kumayan Range, as its known. Upon its mighty height rises the sun. Magnificent river Sarda flows through it. Adding up to the beauty. Roaring waves flows with ease. Beauty here and beauty there. A boarder in between. Gap, dividing two nations.

       Miss Tista, a girl of twenty-five, stays in a hilly town of Himalayas in India. Last year her father passed away who was the only member left in her home. Since then she is living a life of solitude. Initially her heart was loaded with mourning as the hills outside her cottage is loaded with clouds and snow. Slowly and gradually she was able to overcome her mental strength and as the time passed she realised her love for herself by spending quality time of her own.                  The young lady of the mountains is a school teacher of a convent school in her locality. It is a winter dawn and she gets up from sleep, somehow managed to put herself out of her blanket in the chilling cold. By 7:00 am in the morning she sat with a cup of coffee and her breakfast beside the window in an easy chair. As she sat in a relaxed position and sipped in the coffee mug she was reminded of how just a year before in such a same wint...

 In this fast pace of life of post modern era it's necessary for every human being on this mortal world to remain in inner ease. It's important to love the self both mind and body. Our body is a living machine gifted to us by nature which is generated by mind, so it's necessary to nurture both body and mind. Being self-sufficient, self-esteemed and self-dependent makes a person grow love towards the inner self.            There are practices to nurture and pamper thy own self. Any kind of physical exercise in open air is healthy both for mind and for body. Mind is an integral part of body. Practice self conversation, talk to they self at first in any difficulty. Engage yourself with the passion you have. Spend time with nature, with greenary, with sounds of nature (for example chattering of birds). Since the early ancient days human body is use to with nature and greenary, so it provides inner ease.             Dance, my p...

 The door bell A dark winter night and Emily, a thirteen years old young little girl is all alone at her two storied house. Her parents Mr. and Mrs. Agarwal will not return home to night as they have to stay in the hospital where Emily's maternal grandmother is admitted for pneumonia. At around 9:00pm Emily had her dinner that was made prepared on the table by their house help.                    As Emily was about to go upstairs after her dinner the door bell rang. Emily was scared. Emily walked towards the door and kept her eye on the peephole. She could see a man with a hat and a big umbrella in hand, which the man is holding like a stick. In the mean time the door bell rang once again. Emily somehow gathered courage and opened the door. The man on the other side of the door smiled with eyes full of deep rooted emotions in it. Emily asked, "Who are you?". The man said, "My little angel, you can't recognise me. Tell your father a...

 The Champak Tree    - Sudiptaa Bhattacharya  I Look at the abundance  Of the tree, Through the wide open window. The tree, tall and large, With all its branches Spread with, Green leaves, green fruits, With yellow flowers And a very hard bark. Having roots deep down the soil. Clutching and holding, the earth strongly. From the terrace, My eyes could reach The tree's crest. Dawn Alarms! The arrival of birds. Birds of different species. All birds in pair Or they are three.   A pair of Kokila comes. And so many different colours Of birds can be seen. Some very little, Some large, Some Yellow, some Olive Some with multiple Shades of colours, Into a single little body. They come, have fruits. They chatter in so many tones. They again gather in dusk, To bid adieu to one another. The tree, A great shelter, To so many species. None of the birds, Have their nest here, They come and they go, Like a daily ritual. So many insects come, Butterfly and caterpillar. The t...

                    Diwali lights            - Sudiptaa Bhattacharya                         Turn on the lights          To escape the gloom.                   Kindle the candle           To lighten the roof.                            Festivity of lights           In dark new moon .  

Proud of my Culture       - Sudiptaa Bhattacharya Lucky to be Indian. For its diversity. Diverse in Nature, Diverse in culture. Proud to be a Bengali. For so many festivals In twelve months. Especially for Durga Pujo. The largest celebrated festival, Not only for Bengal But also for Bengalis In different corners of the globe. Durga Pujo, Festivity for a month Or two. Initially, with religious microcosm, In present day a cultural festivity For Macrocosmic mass.  

 Constant          - Sudiptaa Bhattacharya Dance, my constant. Ghungroo is the body, And 'Lay' (Pace/Rhythm) is the soul. In this mortal world, Everything with an end, Every life marked by death, Dance, stands immortal. Dance lives and Breathes As I live and Breath. Dance Immortalises me, As I mark an end.

Beyond                -Sudiptaa Bhattacharya  An unearthly feeling that grew,  No, not over years   But within a short span of time.   An old man,  And a little girl.  More close to a father - daughter.  The man cuts off!   Dies, after years. The daughter like girl,   At first in rage,   Then in pathos.  Time, it's time!!   Through co-incidents,   That slowly immortalises   The man.   Daughter, no more in pathos Neither in pain.   Frees herself in Immortalising his-self.

I have started my Blog on this day(29th July) in 2020. This time, for the audience. So for the last two years, since I have started with blogging, I have written my contents in my own whims and wishes. And fortunately with the blessings of almighty, several individuals from different corners of the globe has gathered as audience to my blog. So, now I feel an willing responsibility to write something that you, my audience demands. It might be anything, may be any poem, or story on any particular genre or an article on anything or some social cause or rather a global issue, anything. So, the only thing that you have to do is , you have to let me know in the comment section that what you demand through my writing and I will try to make my upcoming contents on that one by one. Here, I need to say one thing. I have seen my unknowns reading my blog but my knowns commenting on it. That is why I would like to request all from every corner of the planet, to whom my craft would reach, that pleas...

The key to happiness is self dependence in every aspect of life. There should be a segregation of love and dependence of individuals. When a person is dependent on any one in particular or anything for happiness then the key is upto them. It is so important in life to love and not to depend on the other and to both love and depend on self. Let not circumstances rule individual but let individual rule circumstances. To be specifically, morally upright one does not necessarily look down upon or let down others in order to show supremacy and naming it self love. Now there are certain practices for high esteemed self love. One of the foremost practice is to adore one's life passion. Every individual has to have some passion or the other in life that would meditate the particular above mundane. Let it be dance or singing or cooking or painting or driving or cycling or writing or exercising or gardening or listening to music or anything. Making a practice of passion every day is nurturin...

It was raining cats and dogs outside. A girl sitting by the side of the glass window was enjoying tea and chicken fritters and was listening to a soothing music. Suddenly a roaring thunder!! And the power went off. She was afraid of dark. Let me say here, her name is Kajal. Though this time somehow she gets comfortable in dark with sound of the rain and smell of the wet earth. She didn't feel the urge to immediately turn on the torch in phone either. She is a girl of 17 years, living with her parents and grand parents in a town of India. She found the atmosphere cozy for her and started dozing. She was distracted by her mother's call for dinner. Her mother is Lila, a school teacher. Kajal went for dinner downstairs. They were having Khichri (mixture of rice & Lentils) and different kinds of fries and fritters. It is really a special dish for Bengalis when it rains. The family was having really a fun chatting while dining. They were just over with their...

Bond in my eyes     Personally, I don't feel any craze like other young people of my age for the so called celebrated personalities. But this particular Anglo Indian writer from Dehra stole my heart when I was only nine years old. Since then I loved his write ups so much but was not aware of the fact that his write ups would become so much for my soul as I grow up. I really wonder and wish if I could have met Bond.I remember the first story that I read of Bond was "Mukesh starts a Zoo". I really enjoyed the simple little adventures and little troubles of the kids to start a zoo. I still remember how I used to get an enjoyable, thrilling fear while reading "The Black Cat". During the nights I really used to avoid reading the part from where Miss Bellow appears in the scene. The way Bond portrayed a ghostly character through Miss Bellow is really eerie but not something that would leave a dark scar on the innocent mind of a child. Its like a child would get a ghos...

As the very title suggests, its going to be something about Poyela Boishakh or the Bengali New Year. 'Poyela' means one or the 1st and Baishakh is the first month of the year in Bengali year calendar, so Poyela Boishakh is the first day of the first month of the year. Another term for Bengali New year is Naba Barsha. 'Naba', means new and 'Barsha', means year. This year Naba Barsha or the Bengali year calendar turns 1429 . So, the year only suggests how ancient the tradition of Bengali New year is. Naba Barsha is traditionally celebrated with 'Gostho Yatra'. Here comes a question what is 'Gostho Yatra'. So, in ancient times cow was the economic measuring stick. The area of cow grassing was said to be a goth. People in the process of celebrating their Godhon, that is their economic strength represented through cow, they ended up worshipping Lord Krishna. This is because, Lord Krishna is said to be brought up in a family where...

I sit to write about the every day journey of so many people.No no here I am not talking about any journey of philosophical sense but how the particular everyday journey transcends to a philosophical mode. It is about the people traveling in Kolkata (India) local trains, especially the ladies compartments of Sealdah South Section trains. Its about so many people from so many different sections of society, from different areas of immediate locality who travels in the particular local trains and who actually belongs to different genres of professions in the social hierarchy and some are even students. The professions in which these particulars belong to are, some are teachers, some officials in hospitals or nurses at hospitals,some are job holders of eminent companies, some are clerks or possessing a high designating rank in government offices, and some are even house helps or gives nursing care to some ailing persona at home, and as I said earlier that some are students, tho...

The year 2020, was really a black whole. Since mid March, there existed lockdown due to Covid. Everything became in online mode, no going out , the only place of refreshment was the rooftop. Initially,it was quite relaxing as I could stay at home throughout the day and night but with time it became suffocative, my mind got clumsy within the four walls, and the online mode of college classes, tuition classes, dance classes (both teaching and learning), Workshops, programs and meeting friends over virtual medium led me to screen fatigue. My body was full of energy as there was no job to burn out physically but I got mentally fatigued, a tremendous amount of monotony engulfed me.         So, in October just before Durga Pujo when the situation was a little bit in human favour we decided to plan a short tour of a day, without a night stay and with all kinds of safety measures. Finally we decided for Bakkhali and it was quite a special place for me because my parents made...