The moving finger writes.............

Shimmering through the darkness, And many shades of gray, A beam of light , glowing softly Connects the coming day. It’s the end of an age, At last the year is through, Madness, sadness, ecstasy, Feelings in shades of crimson and blue. Vacant space on the wall, The clock had stopped its ticking sound. Footsteps, do I hear them now? I walk about and look around. My room is a kaleidoscope of events, In the present, future and all that’s been. I escape in the deep of night To distant lands I have never seen. Soon, early light will wash the windows In the shades and hues of a crimson dawn, Happy New Year, to all of us In the colours of a brave new morn.

Another year is about to start. For some, probably a fresh new beginning; for some, the continuation of an old story; for others, a perfectly legitimate excuse to let their hairs down! Whatever the story , the music is going to come blaring on, the DJs are going to line up their numbers, the parties are going to begin, the wine is going to flow, and all are going to enjoy- the pediatric ( child),geriatric (old),) and psychiatric ( wacko) populace included. I remember the year we had spent New Year’s Eve dancing around the bonfire, non-alcohol induced, with family friends, at a forest in Jhargram, West Bengal, where probably the only lights today during New Year’s Eve would be that from the Maoist lanterns. It was perfectly safe and normal to spend holidays there in those parts during those days, just as it is unsafe today. I had told my wife (then-fiancée) that I would have rather spent the night in the company of “ spirits”, and had got an earful on the virtues of not drinking. Today,...

It’s the yuletide season once again. The time of the year when a new year is just around the corner, and people are busy in festivities. It makes one think about the cycle of life, which in many ways, is like the cycle of time- happy times, good times, sad times all following up on the other. I remember, long back we had a Christmas Tree (Aurocaria) in the backyard of our house. It was pretty much an out-of –the way thing to have at our locality in Calcutta those days (more than 20 years back). At Christmas, I would dutifully deck up the tree (even though celebrating Christmas among non-Christian families was not really the “in” thing in those days-the trend was just catching on). Santa wasn’t really that familiar to us then- I imbibed a bit because of my missionary school background. The tree became quite a bit of bonding for me, and in a fit of schoolboy imagination, I even wrote a story linking it to the course of my life! The years passed, and sadly one day, the tree came crash...