What is to be at home in this world? Is it a person's historical position or the much celebrated conviction of 'same pool of blood' ? The midnight oil kept on burning faithfully leaving me ever vigilant for getting an answer. After much drilling all I could settle for was the penchant for feeling 'rooted into' , a place which smells of one's desire, the gentle blossoming of early knowledge and not yet fully developed fantasies . It is the land where the diasporic lot wants to come back and die. It is a geo positional entity which exists not only in map but also in mind. Let me put it into some rhymes and give it a name ...
Coming into Being
The journey was arduous
But she kept me in care
Opening the door to my new being
Made me feel precious and rare
Started with a bang I cried,
"Mother, let me slip into again,
It seems so barren and dried ,
Clutched all in vain ."
Kissed my forehead and blessed the angel
Held me in coiling hands
Muttered , "Child you need not fear
This is your Homeland.
Kings have come, crowns have gone
Leaving shadows behind
Gushes of blood , forces of love
That'll keep you bind .
A twitch in heart , a bloated throat
Leave you with a smile ,
Away from it in a far away land
You will feel exile ."
And this careless verse of mine helped me to be landed as the winner of a Creative Writing Competition organised by British Council Kolkata and Outset India. More than the chunk of silver what I got was a newly earned confidence to follow 'the road less travelled'...
Coming into Being
The journey was arduous
But she kept me in care
Opening the door to my new being
Made me feel precious and rare
Started with a bang I cried,
"Mother, let me slip into again,
It seems so barren and dried ,
Clutched all in vain ."
Kissed my forehead and blessed the angel
Held me in coiling hands
Muttered , "Child you need not fear
This is your Homeland.
Kings have come, crowns have gone
Leaving shadows behind
Gushes of blood , forces of love
That'll keep you bind .
A twitch in heart , a bloated throat
Leave you with a smile ,
Away from it in a far away land
You will feel exile ."
And this careless verse of mine helped me to be landed as the winner of a Creative Writing Competition organised by British Council Kolkata and Outset India. More than the chunk of silver what I got was a newly earned confidence to follow 'the road less travelled'...
Congratulations! Wish you all the best for your journey into Debasmita' s Wonderland!
ReplyDeleteDear Patanjali, welcome to my shared vision of being alive...
ReplyDeleteI cannot agree more! It's not my country I want to go back to, It's not my state I want to go back to, it's all about the place where I was brought up, It's the people with surrounded by whom I have grown up, it's the soil, the rain, the food, the smell, the humidity, the hawkers cry around, some good hearts and some nearest and dearest ones who stand by whenever I'm in trouble, support me when I'm in grief, stretch hands when I need those badly; It's my home! It's my 'ROOTS'! From my parents, school/college teachers, my friends, my relatives, my streets/shops/traffic/people around to even the very known hawker-dada I see everyday in the local train crying 'Salted badam, badam salted!', I'm grateful to everyone of them, because they have created my 'ROOTS', I feel proud when I go back to them, because I'm none but one of them! Nice write up Debasmita-di, like to see more and more like this one from you!
ReplyDeleteThank you Sudipta for such an endearing comment. These words will keep me going.
ReplyDelete