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Pack Your Bags


It is packing up once again.

It is a periodical  schedule all again.

A month here and a month there all again.

puts one to no profitable gain.

 

A long drive down the road,

in the Express Highway broad,

 is pleasurable for not too often trod,

exhaustively  tiring for a monthly slot.

 

Up in the air for half a day,

right from the morning ray,

sitting  with a fastened belt all day,

pushes one to the edge of the bay.

 

Formalities  at the port of departure,

leaves one in  discomfiture,

Similar rituals at the arrival is a feature,

creating agony and  exertion in a single capture.

 

The up and down movement is throbbing.

What for the mind starts probing?

Might be to clinch a fortune is the lobbying.

Alas! it is a meaningless expedition almost a robbing.

 

 


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Best To Be So.


Little did Lina knew about it.

Little did she talked about it.

Little did she care about it.

Yet, she was thrust into it.

 

The much she knew about it.

The much she talked about it.

The much she cared about it.

She was let out of it.

 

So much to know about it.

So less to talk about it.

So much to care about it.

Lina was more or less away from it.

 

As much to think about it.

As less to speak about it.

As much to attend to it.

Lina  absolutely  ejected it.

 

That much thought about was a trash.

That much  talked about was a bash.

That much cared about was a gas.

She discreetly committed a thrash.

 

Well, it was a cock and bull story.

Well, it was a series of tales hoary.

Well,l it was a compiling of events unholy.

 Well, Lina relinquished herself  totally .

 

It might sound vague to all.

It might read incoherent to all.

Better it be an enigma to all.

It is best to be so to all.

 

 

 

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India Versus Norway: Diplomatic Embroil Over Bringing up Children


India Versus Norway: Diplomatic Embroil Over Bringing up Children on Blogcritics.

 

“The Child is father of the Man,” reads the famous line from William Wordsworth. Begetting a child gives unfathomable pleasure. Bringing up the little one is an art. The making and unmaking of a child depends largely on the mother.feeding

Parenting is a task which requires great skill and foresight. Indians form a close-knit community. Every relation has an importance in the Indian family. The Indian mother, after a child is born, lives with the child all day long. The newborn is nurtured with great care, fed as and when it cries, sleeps nestling close to the mother. The children are put in separate rooms once they become self-sufficient and independent. The bonding between the child and the mother is special, enchanting and enhancing too. The proximity developed between the mother and the child lasts all through their life. Indians presume it as a healthy sign but in the West it is eyed differently.

Norway is in the headlines for separating the children of an Indian geoscientist from their parents since May 2011. Anurup and Sagarika Bhattacharya’s children, three-year old Abigyan and one-year-old Aishwarya, were taken under Norwegian protective care by the Norwegian Welfare services on the ground that the son slept with Churchillhis father and the mother fed the children with her fingers.

This allegation brings to mind an anecdote from a few decades back, when the former Indian President Dr. Radhakrishnan and the British Prime Minister Churchill met over dinner. As per the Indian custom, the President washed his hands well before eating. While Churchill was busy with spoon and fork, Dr.Radhakrishnan was eating with his fingers. Churchill asked the President to use the spoon and fork for better hygiene. The great scholar quipped, “No one else could use my fingers so I consider it most hygienic.” What would have happened to Dr. Radhakrishnan if he had visited Norway now? He would have been put in a centre and alienated from his kith and kin. Dr. Radahakrishnan is dead and gone. He has escaped the Norwegian authorities.

 

Norway’s Child Protective Service is a powerful organization which has been charged with being overzealous in protecting the children. The Norwegian Statistical Bureau, in its latest report of 2011, shows that 19 of every 1,000 children born to immigrant parents were taken away from their family homes between 2004 and 2010.

In a report by IBN-CNN, Mr. Bhattacharya says, “We’ve appealed to the government that we’ll leave everything and go back to India. This is a nightmare in our lives. We want to bring back our kids. We were normal parents. There could be several upbringing issues because the culture is different.”

The Indian Government has taken up the issue and forced the Norwegian government to release the children from Protective Care. Their 27-year-old uncle would take custody of the children and the expenses for his trip to Oslo would be borne by the Indian government.

Each country has its own culture. Each country has its own theory and convictions regarding sex, children, marriage, habits, and behaviour. That which is approved in one part of the world may be strongly condemned in another region. Customs and traditions which seem offensive to one sect are appreciated highly by the other.

Shakespeare said that discretion is the better part of valor. Let us practise this ideal by honouring all cultures and values.

Read more: http://blogcritics.org/culture/article/india-versus-norway-diplomatic-entanglement-over/page-2/#ixzz1uH3breMR

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Where Eagles Dare- Langkawi



A group of islands lie facing the Andaman Seas

Once upon a time they were busy like bees.

A curse confounded them to a secluded freeze.

On and off they were invaded by the Siamese.

The island was torn into pieces in a fleece.

 

Mahasuri  was a beautiful girl of the land.

Looked exotic and exuberant amidst the local band.

Captured the heart of the Sultan of Kedah by her alluring brand.

Her looks kindled the jealousy of the Sultan’s wife’s in terrific grand.

Mahasuri fell to the sword   emitting white blood on to the sand.

 

She was not adulteress as claimed by the Sultanate.

She was an innocent wife of an official in the  Sultanate.

She was deliberately murdered  out of hate.

Her cries reverberate in  the forests even this late.

Her story is enacted in her tomb everyday with a rate.

Releasing a significant fear and tears within the gate.

 

As the legend narrates a tragedy in full volume.

The ninety-nine islands rise up to the eagle’s boom.

The white sea-shore glistens in the sunny doom.

The mangrove forests throw a greenish bloom.

The lush waterfalls fall down in  a spectacular zoom

 

The pregnant lake flows with a temporary hush.

Silently blessing the childless woman with a fertility blush.

Kuah ,the main island ,is a symbol of flush.

The white, brown, black, yellow, tourists move in a rush.

Intending to take with them nature’s bounty in  an articulate fuss.

 

Langkawi  translates nature’s beauty  in a lively form.

It is the jewel of  Kedah   with a delicate charm.

It presents a rejuvenating citadel in a lukewarm.

Its extensive seashore zigzags without a conform.

Well,it is an experience beyond an explainable norm 

 




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Bearing The Cross


Bearing the cross is Lina’s destiny.

The causes for the happening might be many.

The fault might emanate from so many.

The significant indicator pointed to Lina if not to any.

 

There was an uproar over a mishap.

Lina went there by chance in the crucial lap.

She stood mutely watching the crap.

Quick as a wink she fell into the trap.

 

The main opposition vanished in a second.

The other party was delirious for more than a second.

 Their eyes caught hold of Lina in a fraction of a second.

Accusations overflowed in a spate  within a second.

 

Lina did not understand a thing about it.

Yet she had to face the brunt without knowing it.

She did stand the vehemence with a brave outfit.

She said “I am no way responsible for it”

 

This might be something not of importance.

Lina is not the only catching up with the reference

Lina represents the many who are punished for other’s offence.

The likes of Lina  have to bear the cross in defense.

 

 

 

 

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Burns to the Earth.


There was a fire burning red.

 

Lit up to burn the rubbish.

 

It flagged and waved with the wind.

 

It then turned into  grey fumes.

 

It suffocated the inhabitation.

 

The  smoke emanated  foggy white flakes.

 

It polluted the environment.

 

It then subsided into black cinders. 

 

The ash got spread in the brown terrain.

 

It lay for ages fresh and undecomposed.

 

An array of colours  produced a devastation.

 

An unbearable heat caused a parchment.

 

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Step Up Lina.


Lina, for all I know, had a setback that day.

It kept Lina locked for a day.

She sat speechless the whole day.

She was not her usual self that day.

 

Lina,all I know, is invincible.

She had overcome events terrible.

She faces disasters with spirit credible.

But that day she was inconsolable.

 

Lina, for all I know, is of a stern stuff.

She never in exasperation huff or puff.

She is not a snobbish vain  buff.

But, that day she was terse and gruff.

 

Lina ,for all I know, is a girl of pride.

She carries  herself with a charismatic glide.

She speaks in an unleashing stride.

But that day she was in a low tide..

 

Lina, for all I know, is a lovely angel.

She is a dainty, kind angel.

She is a sweet-tempered angel.

But, that day she was looking like a fallen angel.

 

Lina, for all I know, is a private person.

She behaved  with an idealistic  reason.

She is a flower of all seasons.

But, that day, she was  in enormous tension.

 

Lina, I know not your turmoil.

Could you not create a foil?

Could you not put an end to this toil?

Lina would come out of it without a soil.

 

 

 

 

 

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thoughts

Truth Dies


A two-year fight has come to a close.

The outcome resulted in a froze.

The long struggle was always morose.

It derived its fundamentals from a strong source.

It was going with a veritable force.

The preparation was  a researched course.

Truth was the underlying  recourse.

The proceedings were interrupted by a resource.

It was a bribe that hit a blow.

The lobbying did the magical glow.

Truth got distorted in the flow.

Money seized the prime status in a row.

It proposed a Valentine’s throw.

The constituted board admitted a bow.

The strike off was washed ashore.

The dismissal came to the fore.

The righteous lost his floor.

The criminal gained  his galore.

Truth finally died an hour ago.

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The Kite’s Flight- Allegory


It was a high-flying kite.

It glimmered in the sun-bright.

Carrying the colours red, blue and white,

It rose up and up to great heights.

 

The children cried in delight.

They were thrilled at the sight.

The kite  enacted a great fight.

It rose up and up to great heights.

 

The cord that held it extended right.

It, in its elongation, got tight.

The kite faltered in its flight.

Yet, it rose up an up to great heights.

 

The cord knotted itself in a bite.

The knots closed up to a strangling plight.

The kite made a descent slight.

Alas! it fell down and down from great heights.

Man’s ascent has a tremendous insight.

He muscles and manipulates to reach atop alright.

His movement  gets mulled at a point outright.

He tumbles down  to the ground  like the falling kite.

 

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The Dance of Little Meenu.


Little Meenu was singing all by herself.

She was dancing all by herself.

She was the  star performer that day

She was the best dancer all the way.

 

Meenu was  singing at the top of her voice.

Her imagination extended beyond  her toys.

Nursery rhymes were her best choice.

She set them to her own tune with rejoice.



Round and round she went in  steps slow.

She  danced merrily to the melodious flow.

It was both western and oriental in one blow.

Her singing and dancing made her glow.

 

Her first line was “row,row,your boat”.

It was followed by “are you sleeping ” in a float.

She went back to “row, row, your boat”

She then sang   “Baa,Baa Black sheep” as an end note.

 

Meenu covered the  big  stage with ease.

Her movements were  soft as a snowy fleece.

Her melody was like a  soft breeze.

Her recital was an impressive feast.