SOMEWHERE IN THE MOUNTAINS
High on a mountain-top
Where the pine and elms grow,
Where feral winds whisper
As they pass to and fro;
Ancient mossy boulders
Watch an orange sunrise,
Far horizons change hues
In colourful disguise;
Thick swirling mist often
Arrives with the dusk,
Veiling the rugged slopes
With the fragrance of musk;
Twilight brings in grey clouds
That often stays the night,
To let a drizzle tease
Trembling boughs in delight;
Hidden blooms come alive
To let the glow-worms pass,
Waking up cicadas
As they clamour en masse;
A myriad play begins
Wild winds singing a song,
Dark skies lighting the stage,
Thunder drumming along;
Shadows wait like phantoms
Near a silvery rill,
A mystic night wonders
At this magical drill.
                                        *****************
                                       

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Walking Back…

Vedant’s thoughts…

Having picked up a few toiletries from Blue Print, a prominent drug store on Lindsay Street, I walk towards New Market.  Past seven in the evening on a Saturday, the crowd is thronging the pavements jostling the tiny makeshift kiosks selling ready made garments, leather goods and every household good worth its name. There are fruit vendors too, harking their wares and even cajoling harried housewives with the buy.  At a glance the custard apples, pomegranates and melons seemed almost tempting, but I do not fancy striking a bargain for them. The shabby kiosks occupying almost half of the pavements leave little space to walk, forcing pedestrians to spill over to the streets. I pause looking at the endless queue of vehicles which stand bumper to bumper on the street. Not uncommon seeing pedestrians rushing across the road wildly waving their arms at irate drivers who are honking out of sheer impatience and frustration at the impenetrable crowds. Can see quite a few people clutching large plastic shopping  bags; Puja shopping fervor is more than evident.  Big ones, fat ones, thin ones…. and the children totting along, almost dragged along by their sweaty hassled guardians across the crowded thoroughfare. 

Passing Badshah, a popular snack bar just opposite New Market, the aroma of sizzling Kati Rolls and Kebabs being cooked on large hissing iron cauldrons is a sight to behold, it almost makes my mouth water. Find it almost impossible to pass the stretch as hungry denizens had leave little room near the restaurant entrance.  I manage to wriggle out of the crowded pavement and take to the street, ignoring the incessant honking of cars beside.  One learns to become immune to such things in the city of Kolkata…I am no different,  having been born and brought up in the city. More so, being a resident of the neighborhood since birth. Edging into Madge Lane, where Globe Cinema once opened its doors, the crowds  thickenand seem a shade unruly too. The lane is popularly known for junk food – puchkas, chats, noodles, ice-cream, dahi-vadas, chillas and you could name a few more.  The vendors were doing brisk business and those gorging on them were one too many, mostly ladies.  Glimpse dozens of young girls giggling and squealing in delight at the taste of street food.  I know it is amazing, for once upon a time I too would be here on Saturday evenings to eat literally from the kiosks.. but then that was a long time ago.  

A newly married young couple seem to be enjoying the fare…standing close and even feeding one another.  Happens during early wedded life. Have gone through that phase when Amaya and me would spend the better part of Saturday evenings here. It would inevitably be one of those days when she would announce that she was in no mood to cook.  So street junk it would be and we would always watch a movie afterwards..  remembering to carry loads of chips and eatables to give more exercise to out salivary glands. Our appetite used be incredible. Strange that now I can no longer palate street food, but fifteen years ago it was different, very different. For Saturdays would be a day to reach home early so that Amaya and I could indulge in our gamut of weekend frolics – eating out, late night movies at Globe, Lighthouse or New Empire would be such fun as multiplexes had not made their entry.

I walk homewards…reminiscing just to pass time and reminding myself that I would wake up to a Sunday without Amaya beside.  Once upon a time, it was the sweetest feeling to look at her sleeping, a serene candidness scribbled all across her face on sunlit Sunday mornings. The weekends would pass with lightning rapidity then, often making us rue and wait eagerly for the next one. Now, they drag endlessly…what was once a joy is now just haunting memories of another day.  The warm evening breeze  ruffles my hair, teasing me with thoughts which are in essence painful..but then one gets used to chronic pains.  They often play a strange game of hide and seek, but I try and ignore their haunting existence, as the www.facebook/missing varrunlights of New Market fade behind, no longer seeming as bright as they would once be a long time ago…


Winding up one summer’s day…





It’s late afternoon… discernibly hot, lazy and a trifle breezy. Can hear the cacophony of honking vehicles minus the urgency of a normal weekday traffic, could be the unscheduled holiday declared right in the middle of the week… being the birth anniversary of the great legend. Feel a trifle dull, besides its sultry outside and I can see pedestrians, meandering listlessly, perhaps winding homewards.  Some stand huddled around the small ramshackle tea-kiosk just across, a hot cuppa on a hot day perhaps brings fortified relief.  The clock shows its well past four…dusk is more than an hour away, can spy a few birds gliding aimlessly across the rusty-blue skies, a few lines emerge across the realms of my mind:


Waiting for Dusk..


As dusk drawn neigh,
I heave a sigh,
A day in my life is done,


When the skies turn dark,
The stars will mark,
My prayer’s the God’s did shun,


Darkness whispers night long,
To shadows in a muted throng,
Dreams which were lost and won.


Dawn will colour another day,
Much ado to make hay, 
And life will watch the fun.


I urge myself to leave office.. perhaps the quietude of home beckons. The noisy street below and the drone of construction work on the adjoining plot suddenly seems unbearable. Shall come back tomorrow, I solace myself, to wage another battle with life. Even though I can boast of no victories today, for it was a grim day of survival – gritty perhaps but then I live to fight another day.  At the end what really counts, for me, for anyone is – Survival.  And that the God’s have kindly bestowed.


                                             **************************




Dancing



Summer Rains..

Looking at the rains today.. I remembered a summer long ago.  It would rain almost every day, just at dusk, like it is raining now.  They were painful times.. and my heart would feel heavy.  Yet, the pain would inevitably bring old memories, which would caress the soul with its balm of loneliness and a strange comfort that I would never be alone again.  Pain can be a strange companion.. haunting but loyal, perhaps it never leaves us completely. how to appraise a domain name .  It is strange when we embrace its cold nothingness.. for often its our’s forever, teaching us golden lessons which are priceless.


Summer Rains..


It would rain that summer when dusk fell,
Pensive I would watch tiny rivulets swell,
Flowing rainwater… carrying little dry twigs, 
And the trees wearing drenched green wigs.


The wild wind whispering songs of past,
Spraying droplets the clouds would cast,
Thunder sounding like the drums of heaven,
Darkness shrouding the stars like craven.


Sounds on earth as the rains did pour,
Reminiscing thoughts long lost in yore,
Craving for souls long gone from my life,
Just grovelling around in pain and strife.


Only thoughts remain of that sultry summer,
When thunder sounded like a crazed drummer,
The lightning had revealed demons of dark,
Deep scars within which left it’s mark. 















Dusk draws neigh…

Dusk quietly gathers outside my window…it’s slow subtle steps inch snail-like towards the darkness. I can see the skies painted a shade of pale yellow with streaks of crimson and grey, there are clouds high up which may bring rain at night.  Has been a hot day, so typically May and its just the first day of the month. A gently breeze blows rustling the leaves on the mango tree just across from where I sit, can see the ripening mangoes rocking in their golden  redness, looking splendid and so tempting.  
Can hear the cacophony of birds returning to their nests.. their day is done, unlike us, they do not have the luxury of a holiday, every day is a working day.  Wonder if they know what holiday’s are all about.. but perhaps they enjoy their work and day much more than what we do. I always feel animals and birds live more in the present, for they do not care to think or hoard for the future like humans.  Blissful life really…today I cannot see the evening star, perhaps the clouds cover it.  When I was a child I would be told to make a wish moment the evening star was out, there were a few lines which was prayer like, I would need to recite it, but I have long since forgotten it, much like I no longer wish when I see the evening star.  Just today, I feel like composing the lines.. my own for the evening star:


Star light, star bright.. I wish I may, I wish I might,
Fulfill my desires prayed for.. be it day or at night
Moon light, moon bright.. I wish I could, I wish I may,
Be happy always and spread joy.. in life’s glorious way,
Lord of the Heavens… angels & fairies heed my prayerful call,
Send me goodness, bless my home…and  may I do good to all.


May the days ahead.. bring forth the best to all the denizens of this nation – usher in lasting peace, health and prosperity and propel us forward into a bright and glorious future.

Another Sunday…

Sunday’s are for leisure.. yet, had not been particularly looking forward to the day today. Knew had much to do.. marketing in the morning, a meditation and yoga camp to attend, guests at home for lunch, an invitation to attend a classical music program and then a dinner at a colleague’s place.  Felt  claustrophobic…to spend the day with so much and so many and no time for myself. Weekends are always nice when I can spend time with myself.. need that.. guess we all do. Tried to do all I could but as always, I managed to do some of them and some remained in oblivion..a few lines penned from my thoughts:


Endeavored all Sunday long.. duties & work galore,
Struggled hapless with trivials.. yet they seemed to pour,
Did some.. failed some.. wonder what was in store,
Few I knew would be happy with me.. the rest little sore,
Tired and harried I ran around as the holiday wore,
Times I felt a little terse and at times I even swore,
Monday loomed large ahead..could feel work implore,
Had enough with weekends.. wouldn’t want anymore.


So it ended another Sunday…not the best I could have but then we need to live with reality and with life. Needless to say, it is not always interesting or good but then who am I to say so… we all need to live with life and even if it is not fair, it is yet worth living.









A NEW ACCOUNTING YEAR..



A New Year’s Song..


My beloved Accountants of this world unite,
A new accounting year commenced last night,
I believe we still have mighty battles to fight,
And nobody cares about our sodden plight,
Even though we portray that we are right,
And victory may appear out of our glaring sight,
For a change let us stop being so uptight,
For divinity has played upon us a little trite,
And our true blessings may be in blight,
But at the end of our tunnel.. there is light,
Also we are bold enough to not get a fright,
Let us march ahead for never know what we might,
Be there the deepest of seas or mountains of height,
For there lies hope and I believe our future is bright…!


Composed by CA. Amar Agarwala,who warmly salutes every Chartered Accountant worth his/her element in salt and every other accountant who struggles hard for existence and wishing each of them a – HAPPY NEW ACCOUNTING YEAR!











AN ACCOUNTANT’S JOURNAL…

With 31st March fast approaching, I can well comprehend the state of many Chartered Accountants caught in the intricate web of year closing work, being one  myself. Yet, despite the incredible pressures and occupational hazards, I believe that they work in silence as compared to many others. Accountants known for their penchant at behind the desk work and being orthodox and boring are somehow away from limelight, save for an annual bit of budget analysis where they are unceremoniously asked to chip in with brief comments. Not that it really counts… more so, in a country of like ours, where it is increasingly being felt that the voice of sanity is being smothered without remorse.  I feel for this most misunderstood breed of professionals, not only  because I am an integral part of the fraternity but also for the reason that I carry an sense of acute responsibility to show them in true light for the kind of work they do and life they lead.  Perhaps, being an author, it becomes all the more imperative that I take up this onerous responsibility.  So here it goes, a small narrative prose in honor of every CA and for all who think of us as anything but a big bookish-bore:


Ode to a Chartered Accountant

I knew of an auditor not too long ago,
Very sincere he was but a wee bit slow,
With numbers his days were endlessly long
Could never slumber or break into a song,
He always felt that his work was life
Was disliked by many but most by his wife,
Seemed forever on the barrel of a gun
Be they statutes or bland figures undone,
He seldom smiled and never laughed aloud
People thought he was stuck up and proud,
His folks were tired of his workaholic ways
For his face was long and so were his days,
But sincere he was and knew all norms
And rarely erred when filling up forms,
His earnings were measly and often low
For despite his diligence he was unpaid so,
With advancing age his health grew frail
Yet he never allowed his duties to trail,
Life-long he seemed harried with work
Annoyed he was but he never did shirk,
Accused of wrongs was his destiny’s guile
Be it a report or an income-tax file,
Once he told me of his jumbled state
Which none could follow, but just his fate,
  
He sadly mused of his work and duty
And never chancing upon life’s beauty,
Felt his obituary would be short not shallow
For the happy readers would soon follow,
One last little wish made my dear old mate
May the heavens balance his sheet on date.
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My dear readers, if you ever happen to spy upon a balance sheet or financial figures.. do spare us a kind thought.  We need it… even if you feel we do not deserve so!

A SUNDAY MORNING & YOUR THOUGHTS…



Woke up to pearly skies with touches of crimson…it turned a shade of azure a little later. A lovely morning with mellow sunshine, chirping birds and dew-drops scattered across the grass-blades, glistening like diamonds on a sunlit stretch of green. Makes me think of all that is beautiful.. all those who light up my life with their subtle touch of love and affection.  I wish them all a lovely day… and to all those who are lonely and will spend their day in reminiscing the past – just know that all that we have loved and shared is never lost – time may dim memories but it cannot erase feelings felt and shared with those we have deeply loved:


Thoughts… they fleet across my mind,
Some reminiscences.. .some just desires of morrow,
They engulf me with joy… drenching my being, 

I walk down memory lanes… with them beside me,
The world seemed mine… time had ceased to be,
Veiled in bliss… moments frozen in time,
I caress them…for they will be with me, 
They never cease to usher feelings sublime.

Some make me smile with forlorn bliss,
A few shroud my soul with sorrow,
Pensive thoughts of you… my mind dreamt of 
Or did it from the yesters borrow!


Some days are better spent with thoughts… for they help us to understand deeper meanings in life, we need to know.  And what wonderful companions they are.. imagine what life would have been without them.