Category Archives: mydiary

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.
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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.