photopoems

Introducing photopoems:

Following are the twelve simple rules:

1. Small poems, of about two to four lines, shorter the better, it can be from 1 to 20 words, all in lowercase
2. May be with or without rhymes
3. Should necessarily be embedded in the image (photo, hence photopoems)
4. Highlight the image, may be talking for or against the photo
5. The text should have a lasting and relevant message necessarily for the world
6. It should help the readers retain and recite the lines with the image in mind with a connecting word, viz.  here it is kalidas
7. No names, except they are photopoems

8. Every form should contribute to the understanding of the text, e.g. here the font comic sans ms is        used to depict a comical situation

9. Texts may be ideally placed according to their starting point, e.g. for English, it is left hand bottom, for Arabic, it is right hand bottom; however, they can be modified according to the coloring and spacing of the image (photo)

10. The image credit to be given as per the flow of the language

11. The name of the author to be placed outside the text box, preferably beneath
12. No highlighter is allowed

Death falls in place

Everybody dies

the child, the adolescent

the middle-aged

all dead

live in the mind

or in the picture frames

everybody denies death

for the lying breath.

The man, the woman

live

and continue to live

a thousand lives

alive body and mind

stories write

air plays a thousand tunes

through running nerves

sing, play, moan and dance

yet one day, the flute will stop.

Will arrive the final goodbye

but so what

for as long as they are

they are

those persons in the frames

light and sound

resting in the memory lanes

are dead in them

still in them they are!

Hearts still palpitate

brains catch the rainbow

mountains, rivers, high and low

you find the you in you,

treasured senses and their hues.

Everybody dies

yes, yet relies

on the stage and the skies

​​​​​​​death rests and lies

breath travels, sings, flies

life lives through the ears and the eyes.

Shubho Bijoya

Sweetest part of India

If West Bengal is busy publicizing itself to the World and its cousin as the ‘Sweetest part of India’, it is quite literally for the variety of sweets, ranging from misti doi to more than 500 types of sandesh and rosogolla with all its different mouth-watering shapes, sizes and hues. And it is during this time of Dussehra that we get to see a parade of sweets hopping in from the plates to the mouths of people in and around the pandals as also in every begali household.

About Vijayadashami

In the eastern and northeastern states of India, Vijayadashami marks the end of Durga Puja, remembering goddess Durga's victory over the buffalo demon Mahishasura to help restore Dharma (Virtue). Vijayadashami, also known as Dasara, Dusshera or dussehra is a major Hindu festival celebrated at the end of Navratri every year. It is observed on the tenth day (hence called Dasami which in Bengali means tenth) in the Hindu calendar month of Ashvin. Vijayadasami is observed for different reasons and celebrated differently in various parts of the Indian subcontinent. In the northern, southern and western states, the festival is synonymously called Dussehra (also spelled Dasara, Dashahara). In these regions, it marks the end of "Ramlila" and remembers God Rama's victory over the demon Ravana, or alternatively it marks a reverence for one of the aspects of goddess Devi such as Durga or Saraswati.

Mysterious Mythology

Mythology is full of mysteries and one of them is that the goddess Durga is also known as Rama (pronounced as Roma in Bengali); so Durga and Rama are also namesakes doing the same work to help conquer virtue over vice. Vijayadasami celebrations include processions to a river or ocean front that carry clay statues of Durga, Lakshmi, Saraswati, Ganesha and Kartikeya, accompanied by music and chants, after which the images are immersed into the water for dissolution and a goodbye. Elsewhere, on Dasara, the towering effigies of Ravana symbolizing the evil is burnt with fireworks marking evil's destruction. The festival also starts the preparation for one of the most important and widely celebrated festivals called Diwali, the festival of lights, which is celebrated twenty days after the Vijayadashami.

The celebration goes abroad

Owing to its popularity in England and the US of A, Durga and her family have been seen many times being immersed in the waters of Thames and Hudson.

Sindoor khela (game of vermillion)

Sindoor Khela is a tradition which is followed every year on the day of Vijayadashami. For all the Bengali women, this is the final ritual which holds a great significance. On Vijayadashami, or the last day of Durga Puja, married women put on sindoor or vermilion on Maa Durga's forehead and feet and thereafter they apply it on the other married women present around them. This ritual is enjoyed just like a game and thus it is called "Sindoor Khela". Women enjoy smearing sindoor on each other. Since sindoor is a sign of a married woman, this ritual means to wish each and everyone a good fortune and a happy married life.

A reason to celebrate life

While it is true that human beings need an occasion to celebrate, these celebrations also have a purpose behind them; mostly they would also be celebrations for the victory of good over evil, knowledge and wisdom over ignorance, light over darkness, kindness over cruelty, and finally sweetness over bitterness.

So here’s wishing a very happy dussehra to all our friends at Your Space. But going with the title, it is Shubho Bijoya in Bengal, the sweetest part of India!

Disclaimer:

Source for some information, viz. about vijayadashami, is Wikipedia.

Images a collage from pictures available in Google images

Family friends

Who is that spoilt little brat,
who whispered in our ears?
Negated family members
at the drop of a hat, for years
so we look at each other like that!

Father is rather not interesting!
Mother the perpetual oppressor!
Children are a burden; they’re boring
Family, a prison, less said the better!

This image is so unfair and untrue,
we look out for family, in our friends too!
Watch the serial Friends, where undeniably
you see a perfect picture of a family.

Chandler the dependable father with gumption
steady income, coveted profession,
Monica the affectionate mother in the kitchen
occupied and engaged, to satisfy their children,
Joey is the truant unruly child
cries being thirty, forever hungry and wild,
playing the big bro, a real boss
is the famous professor Dr Ross
a sibling rivalry with Phoebe
comes Rachael fighting like a baby.

Now it’s time for us to look around
we can be surprised, almost spellbound
to discover that in our friends too
we looked for a family, it is true!

If it’s cool to search for a family in our friends
why not try to be friends with our families then?


Note: The poem refers to a very famous serial called Friends, still telecast, from time to time, in various TV channels, especially in the Star World.

In love with the lines

I love

living in the leaves

letters lie,

revealing the lines

leaving a lingering tale

of time,

in between many tales

with my ears on them

sometimes through the wind,

at times with my hand

I listen

to horrors, wonders

I see the world as Echo*

lashed for love

I read and write,

what others wrote and read

in my mind

on the same inky space,

I let the leaves be

just being with them

I love

The poem is in reversible style*

Note:

1. Echo* - In Greek mythology, Echo (/'?ko?/; Greek: ?χ?, Ekho, "echo", from ?χος (echos), "sound") was an Oread who resided on Mount Cithaeron. Zeus loved consorting with beautiful nymphs and often visited them on Earth. Eventually, Zeus's wife, Hera, became suspicious, and came from Mt. Olympus in an attempt to catch Zeus with the nymphs. Echo, by trying to protect Zeus, endured Hera's wrath, and Hera made her only able to speak the last few words spoken to her. So when Echo met Narcissus and fell in love with him, she was unable to tell him how she felt and was forced to watch him as he fell in love with himself. (Source:Wikipedia)

2. Reversible style - Poems written in this style can also be read upwards. The idea behind the style is to let the poem rise above (a leap in existential term), even in its physical form.

Looking out

Three people cannot stay together

One spouse is bi-polar

Untreated, on the loose

With words can never choose

What is wrong or right

Throws tantrums, fights

With the other two members

Threatened for life, take sides.

The other a megalomaniac

Always doing all the work

From running errands

Has piles of bills to pay

For every matter, has a say

Angered here, worried there

For nuts, cannot stand the bi-polar

Who once upon a time, was the lover

Since long it’s over.

The third person is the child

Confused and wild

Encourages the working parent

To date with new friends

Has fun with its own;

Family finds a tragic end

All the three members

Ping or sometimes phone

But with each other,

They could never stay together!

Yet the three

Flying independent and free

In their own ways willy-nilly

From strangers around

Wanting their feet to be

On the ground

Are searching every moment

Getting cheated, being silly

Looking out, for a family.

They will never look inside

For they know they’re quite right

With treasures of affection in them

The three, a mystery, playing the same game

Of blaming and calling names;

But one thing is dead and clear

They will never explore love together

For they cannot stay with each other.

Challenges come unto us as lessons

Challenges come unto us as lessons

We don't let them stay

Blindly, we shoo them away

With all our might

In the restricted dead-ends 

of wrong and right

excuses abound

solid and sound,

and when the problem is singed alive

be it a text, or a person burning for life

because like machines we hissed

playing only with ornaments and jewels

we suddenly realise having missed

to exercise acceptance and tolerance.

A forgotten dove

Light

with my wings

winsome and white

harbinger of peace

with love

I fly above

like a forgotten dove

chirping, I soar

I rise above countries

all boundaries, in sight no more

underneath I see

lovely lands

warm waters

​​​​​​​mighty mountains

beckoning me

beautiful people

waving at me

wanting me to come down

they are singing

enough, we have had enough

to each other

we have been more

than cruel and tough

come down come down

we’d not cage you anymore

you will live in our work, in our chore

come down come down

from north to south

west to east

your seat

is our crown

come down come down

Waves of travelling interpretations

A couple. On their honeymoon.

Holding, waving hands.

A man. Married for twenty-five years.

Happy family. Daughter. Pet.

Now alone. On his own.

Waving at times passed.

Old couple. In their nineties.

Holding hands.

Waving through the times.

They are all at the beach.

Watching and listening to the waves.

It is nine. Time for supper.

And then, to go to bed.

Tomorrow they will leave the place.

A call

A sudden call

seems to be heard,

from beyond the cracking wall.

A decade of stories

from failings, miseries

full of holes, falls

has been built

written off, learnt.

Now

the being

is beginning to rise

suddenly ears comforting the eyes

if I jump off

a ten-storied building

I know

my wings will not let me die

I am prepared to fly.

My nest

from where I began my journey

is perhaps calling me

to carry on

with the unfinished text

I am getting ready

as it were, to sing

to take off with the lost identity

and flutter the rest

of the times left, a-borning*!

*a-borning – wishing of new hope; a colloquialism. The word I learnt from a well-known poet from England, Herb Bryce. I wish he reads it!