Saturday, March 19, 2016

# 1 Ladybug

“The thing about exploring is that you have to know whether the thing you've found is worth finding. Some things are just sitting there, minding their own business, waiting to be discovered. Like America. And other things are probably better off left alone. Like a dead mouse at the back of the cupboard.” 
― John BoyneThe Boy in the Striped Pajamas

It's funny and strange...You just finish reading a book and when you are up and about certain visions take you back to those words...
i love being on my own along with my companions...those which do not speak my language and yet converse with me...teaching me...showing me what i have missed during my 51 years of existence on this earth...
Feel rather rich even when i realize that this knowing may not be a quantum leap but just a tiny hint of the entire secret to be unfolded...

# 1. As brilliant as a jewel- The ladybugs
Now apart from knowing from my personal reading of them that not only are they good bugs that control pests,  i am rather thrilled to see that this brilliant as a jewel is like a cute space ship. Hidden wings inside the bright and spotted domes that automatically come out when it's time to take flight...









As a kid i was fascinated by those books in the school library. Hardcover Ladybird story books with it's closed wing ladybird logo. Did i know then that today would be that day when i shall have time and the inclination to watch intently one for real. Of course apart from loving the smell of those books and admiring the print what to talk of the stories i also thought then that The Ladybird was a beautiful insect that was found in the gardens of England. And those gardens were often frequented by gnomes, fairies and pixies...when people were deep in their slumber swimming in their dream river... 
Cannot say if i was better then when i had such fantastic thoughts or i am now to see this as a really cute tiny brightly colored spaceship with it's automatic mechanisms. To some with whom i share my findings i might apparently appear to be having some knowledge. Because some are not aware that the ladybug is also a Samaritan of some sort for the garden. As helpful as the natural tillers of the soil- The Earthworms.
 "Ladybugs control pests that pester your plants. Definitely a good bug to have. They are capable of consuming up to 60 aphids per day, but will also eat a variety of other insects and larvae including scales, mealy bugs, leaf hoppers, mites, and various types of soft-bodied insects.They may be white, yellow, pink, orange, red or black, and usually have spots.'' http://www.clean-organized-family-home.com/good-garden-bugs.html
Would like to conclude my post with yet another from the same book...
“Just because a man glances up at the sky at night does not make him an astronomer, you know.” 
― John BoyneThe Boy in the Striped Pyjamas
Will be back with #2...because i have more to share...

Wednesday, January 27, 2016

The Unfinished Necklace and Idle Tears



When i took this picture i was just wondering how nature missed out on two drops of crystal when it was decorating this of the Nasturtium leaf. Just one tiny drop plus one perhaps slightly bigger, of pure silver moisture and the necklace would be complete.
But here it is for keeps now this unfinished necklace...in my memory...

And for want of anything substantial let me decorate this page of mine with Tennyson...
Nothing really seems befitting as my condition truly is also of one 'divine despair' in which i find there is no immediate, identifiable grief as to why my own tears rolled down...
And as the tears dropped i was hoping it could perhaps complete the unfinished necklace but it couldn't/wouldn't but chose first to linger on my cheeks instead and when they did drop they lost their way into the weaves of my garment. Sigh ! 

Tears Idle Tears a particularly evocative section , is one of several interludes of song in the midst of a larger poem called, " The Princess" by Alfred Lord Tennyson. i am indeed very grateful to this brother albeit a virtual one whom i call Dada. Dada is an affectionate but specific Bengali term for elder brother whom we in our own mother tongue Hindi address as Bhaiyaa.
Thank You Dada for giving me beautiful words to rely on...for this post of mine. Wish you were near and i could share my magical moments and also the fact as to what i consider my daily miracles to be. Hope that you smile if/when you read this post of mine for i am going to divulge the secret...
First and foremost even before i divulge is a question, "Was it a wild guess Dada or was it ESP...how did you (of all people ) come to know of my predicament...you who is known to me through computers and that other than our identities on Facebook we have never met...?"
So if you read this someday...(i hope you do) then i am about to tell you this...my share of miracle of this Jan 27 2016 was a fact. It was You and your 'Idle Tears'.
That even when i am clueless about you Dada as much as you are about me...you gave the exact words to finish this post of mine which would've perhaps died a stillborn death.
Divine despair is what i am in...and you have in a way helped me put it across...
i feel sometimes the Divine speaks through radio...through articles that i read or even books. Other times through the words of people i know and this time perhaps it spoke through you.
Whatever ! i will sleep a bit more easy and perhaps who knows tomorrow shall be a bright new jolly good day!
 Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean,
Tears from the depth of some divine despair
Rise in the heart, and gather in the eyes,
In looking on the happy autumn-fields,
And thinking of the days that are no more.

   Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail,
That brings our friends up from the underworld,
Sad as the last which reddens over one
That sinks with all we love below the verge;
So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.

   Ah, sad and strange as in dark summer dawns
The earliest pipe of half-awakened birds
To dying ears, when unto dying eyes
The casement slowly grows a glimmering square;
So sad, so strange, the days that are no more.

   Dear as remembered kisses after death,
And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feigned
On lips that are for others; deep as love,
Deep as first love, and wild with all regret;
O Death in Life, the days that are no more!

-Alfred Lord Tennyson