Poetic and Prosaic Writeups

Thoughts behind the poem We visited Abanindranath Tagore's farmhouse this afternoon. The serene atmosphere, the tranquil river, the paintings -- all created a Paradise on earth. It was an excellent experience indeed. This poem was composed right there in the lap of nature. The place was full of ethereal bliss as if I was dreaming. Right then, I got wonder-struck that it was a real feeling. The spot bears the witness of the Indian legend. Such a dear delight is indeed required in the humdrum daily life. I captured a few photos of the spot that are shared herewith. Hope, you have the identical experience through and through. The poem-- "In the Legend's Farmhouse" What an awesome aura! Abanindranath Tagore's Farmhouse, full of beauty, Full of integrity,  Full of Nature's purity, Full of Gangetic chastity. Suffused with the richness Of Eastern culture and heritage, Of "sunny spots of greenery", The heaven on earth revives The divinity of the ancient Ance

  The story-- "The Efficient Journalist" "Go, Amanda, and cover the event of Will's criminality. And one more thing. Keep in mind that the news will be published in the Morning Herald  tomorrow," Mr. Dawson, the Managing Director of the leading daily newspaper. "Of course, sir, I'll abide by the deadline," answered Amanda.   She was a veteran journalist having lots of sources. For a long time, she had been working with the Morning Herald , and so, she was a reliable employee of the publication house.   Still, such an endeavour was for the first time in her life, since Will was a hardened criminal. His criminality knew no bounds. He was missing, yet every murder and every criminal offence was performed with his razor-sharp intellect and his age-old experience. Every crime was committed in the wink of an eye in utter silence.   "I've got to do this," Amanda motivated herself. But how would she perform the duty in time? There was no trac

  The poem in a nutshell In this world of variety, we are assigned a number of works. We need to play different roles in this drama called Life. What is more, in the midst of various roles and responsibilities allotted to us, we hardly get a chance to meet ourselves, to have a talk with our within, our inner voice. We are prone to, or should we say, we are burdened to hide our actual selves. Time has come when we should act positive. Our positivism and the revelation of our actual identity can transform us from the core. Yes, surely, we require self-transformation. Identityless In the midst of a thousand works, Full of empty and juggling jerks, I fear to forget who I am; Am I pure or am I sham? “Who’s this?” I sometimes wonder; Amidst manifold tasks, I squander. I lose my identity; Amidst pressure and gravity, I lose my spirit, I lose life’s tidbit; Where is life, for sure? Do I care? Do I cure? I lose my entity, my entity In the midst of millions of iden