In the void air towards THEE….?

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  • Suffering from the pangs of seclusion and hankering for a look and glimpse of his love partner he stretches his hands towards the horizon but in vain, she is not there nor his voice is audible to her and the distance between the two increases tens of times with the passage of time and out of a sheer disgust he cries in the vacuum “…In the void air towards thee my strained arms are cast”. Much easier it is to pursue a loose sort of love but tremendously difficult and tortuously painful to go for the one that is serenely ecstatic with an absolute satiation close to Divine where pangs of seclusion are manifest much larger in more serene an order on the face of the partners with the whole world in their fist. Possibly it was this kind of love for which Thomas Hardy made the lady of one of his novels wandering alone in the Egdon Heath crying “Give me love, my Lord, give it to me, give it, give it” (sic). Love is not a kabaddi game or a lust, love is a great sacrifice.

  • Some of my beloved readers requested me to write something exclusively on love and to  meet their requisition I put up here one of my poems in the form of prose, hence this writeup.
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In the void air towards THEE….?

images (25)

  • Suffering from the pangs of seclusion and hankering for a look and glimpse of his love partner he stretches his hands towards the horizon but in vain, she is not there nor his voice is audible to her and the distance between the two increases tens of times with the passage of time and out of a sheer disgust he cries in the vacuum “…In the void air towards thee my strained arms are cast”. Much easier it is to pursue a loose sort of love but tremendously difficult and tortuously painful to go for the one that is serenely ecstatic with an absolute satiation close to Divine where pangs of seclusion are manifest much larger in more serene an order on the face of the partners with the whole world in their fist. Possibly it was this kind of love for which Thomas Hardy made the lady of one of his novels wandering alone in the Egdon Heath crying “Give me love, my Lord, give it to me, give it, give it” (sic). Love is not a kabaddi game or a lust, love is a great sacrifice.

  • Some of my beloved readers requested me to write something exclusively on love and to  meet their requisition I put up here one of my poems in the form of prose, hence this writeup.

The price of leading a mission:


Yeh, Toba, how tortuous it is to lead a mission on some issue or the other passing through less bouquets and images (17)more bricks coupled with unending sequence of tortures culminating in to death by hanging. This is what happened in America where August Spice, a leading union leader along with his 3 prominent associates were hanged for the reason that they raised demand for fixed working hours as eight. This images (18)is a big story and the full details are covered in my forthcoming book ‘Beyond the barriers’.Seconds before August Spice was hanged he said “a day will come where our silence will be more louder than our words”. Please read this post in conjunction with an earlier one dated 31st October’2016 in this very blog.


When your laptop doesn’t behave itself?


Computer

MyDiary:

Imagine you are in the midway of typing out your thoughts fully engrossed on your theme and all of a sudden it goes berserk with an spree of errors awe fully spoiling your work shattering your thought process with the result that the very script is totally spoiled. In my case I take the situation as terribly excruciating and more so when necessary repairs are not readily available. Highly puzzled I get upset and the thought process I had built up in my mind on the relative theme goes diminishing. Mind is not a device to store the action points and themes beyond a certain limited frame. There is no big a purpose in elaborating the topic except that of sharing even a trivial most anxiety with my beloved readers. Happy Diwali.

When your laptop doesn’t behave itself?


Computer

MyDiary:

Imagine you are in the midway of typing out your thoughts fully engrossed on your theme and all of a sudden it goes berserk with an spree of errors awe fully spoiling your work shattering your thought process with the result that the very script is totally spoiled. In my case I take the situation as terribly excruciating and more so when necessary repairs are not readily available. Highly puzzled I get upset and the thought process I had built up in my mind on the relative theme goes diminishing. Mind is not a device to store the action points and themes beyond a certain limited frame. There is no big a purpose in elaborating the topic except that of sharing even a trivial most anxiety with my beloved readers. Happy Diwali.

I wish I had a magic wand!


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MyDiary:

Whenever I glance over a face flooded with tears in the eye lids in agony for some reason or the other and their cries lost in the wilderness with none bothering to listen to them, my heart springs up to peremptorily harness myself to the avenues for redressing their grievances and see a light of smiles on the faces of the aggrieved persons. The current momentum generated by this blog has the pointed focus on the workforce in Banking industry with particular reference to State Bank of India highlighting in relation to sorting out Pension issues and compassionate appointments. There are thousands of comments by different people sumptuously admiring our efforts but there are certain negative views too expressed by some of the readers. They suffer from a misunderstanding as if every thing is in our hands. One such comment sent on my email address says ‘…. no body, not even Neelkanth sir or K.R. Saini ji’ can do any thing to help us’. I don’t know what could be the purpose behind such a negative utterance except that it could be to malign our move. People could be free to analyze our efforts but they are not supposed to overlap the genuine endeavours made by us with a committed resolve to help the needy. Please bear with us without  allowing dissuasive elements to side track the basic approach with a mission.

Blogging -Many a sips between cup and the lips:


Image result for tedious tasks

MyDiary:

There are many who consider blogging as a job damn easy  performable in too cozy  a manner like moving fingers in the void air. It’s not. The exercise is too tedious a task that involves your mental faculties to remain alert all the time on your tenterhooks, you try to adhere to one particular point and in the meantime another one interrupts resulting into a confused state of thoughts and in the process the whole chain of proceeding onwards is lost halting at nullity. As a freelancer mine is too vast an area of work with their coverage on different blogs involving ten hours plus on an average every day on my laptop which is a quality brand but it too succumbs to pressure of work at times with continuous 7 days a week work and collapses obviously forcing me to wait till it is resuscitated. My readers might be thinking  that I didn’t care to meet their requisitions without realising my predicaments. At times there are several urgency based tasks while talking to the visitors and they override other schedules. The entire situation is virtually like many a sips between cup and the lips while trying to sort out which item on the agenda is to be taken up first. I happen to have most uneasy a time when my work remains unattended but I have to take it essentially as a part of tasks allotted to me which has but to be attended even if it costs me my health. My readers are my source of strength. “…work is worship”, said Wordsworth.

 

Passing through the divine thrills:


MyDiary

Lost into memory lanes and engrossed into woven threads of imaginations in a pensive mode of mind with my eyes glued to an overstretched horizon, somewhere at a long distance I see a storm brewing, a storm transmitting currents to my otherwise awe fully inquisitive a heart, a heart twitchingly hankering for a  sublime sereneness of ecstasy emanating from the Divine. If wastages are written off the sum and substance of real life apparently so lived by an individual is in fact too little but this too little amount of time counts enormously if measured in terms of its quality, the divineness of thoughts. I remember number of such events –one of them being when I was on a visit to Srinagar (Jammu & Kashmir) quite a long time back. This being a Sunday in between, a friend of mine and his wife prevailed upon me to accompany them on some sight seeing much yonder to Gulmarg. I had some back pain but did agree to join them. A little beyond Gulmarg I developed more of discomfort due to back ache and opted out to drop at a particular spot with enchantingly beautiful greeneries all around, a fall streaming with a royal grace in the mid of it. It was a forest area and both of my friends were reluctant to leave  me alone at otherwise a lonely place. I convinced them and they proceeded ahead with a word to return earliest possible even though total to and fro journey involved around 8 hours. After a brief strolling I sat by the site of the fall with an ocean of thoughts entering my mind feeling for a moment as if my mental faculties had some jerk undergoing a colossal change with a feel that I was entirely in a different world sumptuously lost into a tranquil calm and a divine ease. I was no more myself and the time was stopped for me making those moments an eternity. It was a sort of collapsing into nothingness and I actually failed to notice when my friends returned until they gave me a swift jerk. It was about 6 hours time I had spent alone in a divine lap with my friends away but had a feel as if I sat there for an eternity. It looked like regaining consciousness to realise that my friends were really back and that my staying there lasted around 6 hours. I feel like getting bestowed with a thrilling experience like this times and again as actually there lies the worth part of life.