Fighting within, the heart beats
Many lives and many deaths open arms;
She lives through quiet glimmers!
Rajdeep Pathak
November 20, 2010
Saturday, November 20, 2010
To Freshness
Crying, sensing the breast’s sweetness
She drinks the fresh nectar of life,
As purity flows from within!
Rajdeep Pathak
November 20, 2010
She drinks the fresh nectar of life,
As purity flows from within!
Rajdeep Pathak
November 20, 2010
Friday, November 19, 2010
World Space
[A Haiku is a non-rhymed verse. Haiku is a Japanese Word, which means Light Verse. In its genre, in the first line, it has five syllables, followed by seven in the second and five again in the third.]
World Space
Life, birth and new existence
Come and play into this fathomless world
Journeying into Earth’s varied space.
(A Gift to my little daughter Sharanya who came to this world on Monday, October 11, 2010)
World Space
Life, birth and new existence
Come and play into this fathomless world
Journeying into Earth’s varied space.
(A Gift to my little daughter Sharanya who came to this world on Monday, October 11, 2010)
Monday, August 2, 2010
Happy Hours
Let the dark clouds pass by
Let me once again see the clear sky
The clouds make different faces
As I watch children and their races!
The race against time has passed
As men sit and count their cards
Kings and Queens and Knights and Pawns
The cavalry men join to sing a song…!
Women in the warmth of the hearth sit and bake
Cakes and buns, their preferred take;
Some knitters do circle the neck
As others join to stitch their hands!
Birds chirp and dogs bark,
While a cat does her favourite walk!
Little drops of rain from the sky
Takes the happiness at an all-time high
Flowers blossom and green adorns the branches of trees
While mermaids seem dancing in the water down the lakes!
The dark clouds have passed by
And the Church bells chime and gain!
There’s music in air, there’s music in all hearts;
There’s laughter in air and no signs of pain.
The Moon hums a tune to twinkling stars;
In the clear sky with no clouds around as bars!
The night sky shimmers, cutting through the darkness
All fair play and signs of calmness!
Far away, children sleep to lullabies which their mothers sing,
Dreaming of sunny days, and bright stars twinkling!
The Moon smiles again and blinks an eye
And stars twinkle to say good bye!
Dreams are nice, dreams are great
Dreams are a wonderful lovely mate…!
Rajdeep Pathak
August 1, 2010
Let me once again see the clear sky
The clouds make different faces
As I watch children and their races!
The race against time has passed
As men sit and count their cards
Kings and Queens and Knights and Pawns
The cavalry men join to sing a song…!
Women in the warmth of the hearth sit and bake
Cakes and buns, their preferred take;
Some knitters do circle the neck
As others join to stitch their hands!
Birds chirp and dogs bark,
While a cat does her favourite walk!
Little drops of rain from the sky
Takes the happiness at an all-time high
Flowers blossom and green adorns the branches of trees
While mermaids seem dancing in the water down the lakes!
The dark clouds have passed by
And the Church bells chime and gain!
There’s music in air, there’s music in all hearts;
There’s laughter in air and no signs of pain.
The Moon hums a tune to twinkling stars;
In the clear sky with no clouds around as bars!
The night sky shimmers, cutting through the darkness
All fair play and signs of calmness!
Far away, children sleep to lullabies which their mothers sing,
Dreaming of sunny days, and bright stars twinkling!
The Moon smiles again and blinks an eye
And stars twinkle to say good bye!
Dreams are nice, dreams are great
Dreams are a wonderful lovely mate…!
Rajdeep Pathak
August 1, 2010
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Dark Spells in Lost Paradise
They shut their eyes in frenzied dreams
Possessed by grief, they neither cried nor spoke
Life was shattered once again….
The Valley has always been so deceptive
The calmness around came from the smoke and dust
Of the mines and bullets and parts of limbs
That lay on the streets….
Red! The paths now were only painted Red!
And black adorned the veils of folks
As a mother watched silently….
She looked as if she knew
Her child would come back
And that no bullets could ever pierce him!
But she stood still and watched
Wailing and Waiting….
Her arms were frozen and eyes still, but wet;
They stretched far across the end of the road
Where the mourners’ procession began and moved along
She stretched to embrace her child but only hard corpse she lifted…
Where’s he gone?
She knew, but believed not
She became still, again…
Five, ten, fifteen, folks gathered by her,
Some stirred her, some questioned…
She spoke in a voice no one heard
She made some signs and few caught!
Then she pointed to the right
And moved her eyes to the left
Shattered pieces of limbs lay across
In thick hot blood that kept flowing
Slowly from the body that was blown to pieces…
“He was playing marbles when they struck
And blew him off…
Five bullets and one grenade
Took his life off
His clothes were torn, his body flung
Into the air, and I, silently stood”,
Said the Mother kneeling down…
She rose again picking up her dead child,
From the bloody dead street into her arms;
His broken limbs she too gathered…
Quietly she joined the mourners who beat their breasts and
Cried along,
Leaving the smoke and pieces of bullets
And stains of blood behind…
To the graveyard!
“I’m not the one alone,
There are many mothers and wives
Many husbands and orphans,
Many sisters and brothers
Who’ll be laid to rest!
Some with broken heart, many with torn limbs
Many more with lost dreams…” she moaned.
Dust and strewn pieces of bullets and grenades
Red streets and hoax cry of
Leaders – have become a day’s routine
In the Valley of death – of lost paradise!
The Valley sleeps in silence, again!
Dangerous calmness! Dangerous silence!
The dark night of dangerous man-made evil spells
Has awaken… never to sleep again!
Year after year, days after days,
The deceiving trick of calmness
Has stained the streets with blood and bullets
And left marks of unending sadness
And grief!
When will the black robes and veils and
The mourner’s procession end
In this deceptive Valley of the lost paradise?
When will mothers stop turning stone?
When will children again play marbles?
When will women fearlessly raise children?
When will men be merry again?
When will mines and bullets and grenades
Stop tearing the hearts?
When will silence and grief stop entering the doors of houses?
When will calmness be really calm?
When will men become men?
When will life be able to breathe…?
Possessed by grief, they neither cried nor spoke
Life was shattered once again….
The Valley has always been so deceptive
The calmness around came from the smoke and dust
Of the mines and bullets and parts of limbs
That lay on the streets….
Red! The paths now were only painted Red!
And black adorned the veils of folks
As a mother watched silently….
She looked as if she knew
Her child would come back
And that no bullets could ever pierce him!
But she stood still and watched
Wailing and Waiting….
Her arms were frozen and eyes still, but wet;
They stretched far across the end of the road
Where the mourners’ procession began and moved along
She stretched to embrace her child but only hard corpse she lifted…
Where’s he gone?
She knew, but believed not
She became still, again…
Five, ten, fifteen, folks gathered by her,
Some stirred her, some questioned…
She spoke in a voice no one heard
She made some signs and few caught!
Then she pointed to the right
And moved her eyes to the left
Shattered pieces of limbs lay across
In thick hot blood that kept flowing
Slowly from the body that was blown to pieces…
“He was playing marbles when they struck
And blew him off…
Five bullets and one grenade
Took his life off
His clothes were torn, his body flung
Into the air, and I, silently stood”,
Said the Mother kneeling down…
She rose again picking up her dead child,
From the bloody dead street into her arms;
His broken limbs she too gathered…
Quietly she joined the mourners who beat their breasts and
Cried along,
Leaving the smoke and pieces of bullets
And stains of blood behind…
To the graveyard!
“I’m not the one alone,
There are many mothers and wives
Many husbands and orphans,
Many sisters and brothers
Who’ll be laid to rest!
Some with broken heart, many with torn limbs
Many more with lost dreams…” she moaned.
Dust and strewn pieces of bullets and grenades
Red streets and hoax cry of
Leaders – have become a day’s routine
In the Valley of death – of lost paradise!
The Valley sleeps in silence, again!
Dangerous calmness! Dangerous silence!
The dark night of dangerous man-made evil spells
Has awaken… never to sleep again!
Year after year, days after days,
The deceiving trick of calmness
Has stained the streets with blood and bullets
And left marks of unending sadness
And grief!
When will the black robes and veils and
The mourner’s procession end
In this deceptive Valley of the lost paradise?
When will mothers stop turning stone?
When will children again play marbles?
When will women fearlessly raise children?
When will men be merry again?
When will mines and bullets and grenades
Stop tearing the hearts?
When will silence and grief stop entering the doors of houses?
When will calmness be really calm?
When will men become men?
When will life be able to breathe…?
RAJDEEP PATHAK
July 25, 2010
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Silence your greatest critic - You!
Silence your greatest critic - You!
Many people spend a great deal of energy arguing for their own limitations; “I can’t do that,” “I can’t help it, I’ve always been that way,” and thousands of other negative and self-defeating statements.
Our minds are powerful instruments. When we decide that something is true or beyond our reach, it’s very difficult to pierce through this self-created hurdle.
Suppose, for example, you tell yourself, “I can’t write,” You’ll look for examples to prove your position. You’ll remember your poor essays in high school, or recall how awkward you felt the last time you sat down to write a letter. You’ll fill your head with limitations that will frighten you from trying.
In order to become a writer or anything else, the first step is to silence your greatest critic --- YOU!
Many people spend a great deal of energy arguing for their own limitations; “I can’t do that,” “I can’t help it, I’ve always been that way,” and thousands of other negative and self-defeating statements.
Our minds are powerful instruments. When we decide that something is true or beyond our reach, it’s very difficult to pierce through this self-created hurdle.
Suppose, for example, you tell yourself, “I can’t write,” You’ll look for examples to prove your position. You’ll remember your poor essays in high school, or recall how awkward you felt the last time you sat down to write a letter. You’ll fill your head with limitations that will frighten you from trying.
In order to become a writer or anything else, the first step is to silence your greatest critic --- YOU!
Friday, April 30, 2010
THE SILENT SEARCH
Oh! Silence; Can you hear
The voice of the dark night
That has spread its wings
Far and wide?
It’s the night of silence and
Yet there seems a little voice that
Calls you…
The wild call of the heart – the soul
Yearns for a pleasant space in this
Moment of solitude and peace.
The noise of the soft blowing wind
And the curves of the sea too disturbs
This ‘dark’ silence! The hour rests, while
The ‘Soul’ makes a soft exit into the wild –
In search of peace!
Silent woods, the soul hits the rocks, fears
The fall --- the silence breaks. The fire within
Burns and grips the wild woods; the sleepy logs;
The rusted branches; the withered leaves and
The fallen trees!
Broken silence, wondering soul,
Motionless heart runs wild for
The pieces – clubbing each back to the silent
Post – the call still remains wild?
Dusty wind blows off the fire, hitting
The silent posts again! The pain, the last notes
Written flies away too, while the finger
Makes a slight movement towards the woods –
The fire rises; still burns within.
Silent voices make few noises…
Silent still, the dark wings fly high
And strong, enveloping the night sky!
Stung once more, the ‘Soul’
Breaks free as the waters
Flow gently, yet breaking the silence!
The voice of the agony in this ‘Silent’
Night is heard no more.
Silence clings, silently lingers…!
The voice of the dark night
That has spread its wings
Far and wide?
It’s the night of silence and
Yet there seems a little voice that
Calls you…
The wild call of the heart – the soul
Yearns for a pleasant space in this
Moment of solitude and peace.
The noise of the soft blowing wind
And the curves of the sea too disturbs
This ‘dark’ silence! The hour rests, while
The ‘Soul’ makes a soft exit into the wild –
In search of peace!
Silent woods, the soul hits the rocks, fears
The fall --- the silence breaks. The fire within
Burns and grips the wild woods; the sleepy logs;
The rusted branches; the withered leaves and
The fallen trees!
Broken silence, wondering soul,
Motionless heart runs wild for
The pieces – clubbing each back to the silent
Post – the call still remains wild?
Dusty wind blows off the fire, hitting
The silent posts again! The pain, the last notes
Written flies away too, while the finger
Makes a slight movement towards the woods –
The fire rises; still burns within.
Silent voices make few noises…
Silent still, the dark wings fly high
And strong, enveloping the night sky!
Stung once more, the ‘Soul’
Breaks free as the waters
Flow gently, yet breaking the silence!
The voice of the agony in this ‘Silent’
Night is heard no more.
Silence clings, silently lingers…!
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
The Serpent Dance
The Serpent Dance
The nightingale has stopped humming a soulful note,
It has flown away into its nest in the woods.
For a while the Moon turned silent
And the Stars stared on…
Wondering at the sight of the serpent
Who danced and sang in full glory!
“What was so beautiful about the night
That the serpent danced and moved gaily?”
The moon thought and stood silently.
The night seemed silent as frozen ice –
Still, motionless, and dark.
Not a leaf fluttered, not a soul moved,
Not a child cried, not a mother fed,
Not a dog barked, not a cow moaned,
Not a soul peeped, not a life showed,
Not a beloved kissed, not a rose bloomed;
The night was dark, the Moon was still
But the serpent danced on…!
Shaking its long, thin oily skinny body
Boneless, yet firm, the Serpent moved
Yet, seemed restless even in a
Motionless state, stopping by the woods,
Leaping forth and then again back, watched
The frozen owl, whose eyes even failed to look into
The darkness that only demurred about its own
Existence! The night, still strong and dark crawled...
The serpent smiled, opening its bleak mouth
Dancing, moving, not fearing the night,
As the Moon watched silently,
And the stars stood in awe!
The beats were strong, the anger vile
The movements were fast and the eyes dreadful
The breath was furious, the cry was of lament
And pain; but anger burst out like flames
As the leaves beneath the body crushed and
Failed to breathe, the ground too shook
As the movement quickened!
Was it the cry of pain, or a dirge or of birth?
Or a reluctant chant if that wasn’t made
To be heard in the dark night.
Was it a dance of vengeance, or of merriment?
Was it a mere movement – frozen and cold, and motionless!
The serpent danced again, looking forth and back
Climbed up a branch, fell back on the motionless earth
Where the owl shut her eyes again, and the Moon and
Star watched silently, in this still, dark, soulless night.
Soon the serpent circled into a den,
Watched by the Moon and the Star;
While the owl still faked to sleep
Its eyes shut in fright, motionless, frozen by the night
The Serpent leapt forward into a den…
Where lights could not pierce the walls and
Cross the protected shell…
The ground beneath ferociously trembled
Fire unearthed, spread around the surface,
The owl couched itself further under the cover of the leaves
Its eyes still shut, while the Moon and the Star looked in awe!
The circled Serpent again, moved out
Dancing merrily back and forth, moving freely and celebrating life!
A new life, with a new silky skin, shimmering under the
Moonlit and starry night;
More vibrant, more jubilant
With new births of many more eggs that
Are yet to be unbounded and fiercely protected!
The Serpent danced, gracefully now, circled round, and again
Leapt into the den, where no lights could cross,
Only the Moon and the Star shimmered in the night sky
As leaves fluttered, as motionless silent faded…!
RAJDEEP PATHAK
March 30, 2010
Word - Meaning
demur – express doubts
vile – evil
dirge – funeral song
The nightingale has stopped humming a soulful note,
It has flown away into its nest in the woods.
For a while the Moon turned silent
And the Stars stared on…
Wondering at the sight of the serpent
Who danced and sang in full glory!
“What was so beautiful about the night
That the serpent danced and moved gaily?”
The moon thought and stood silently.
The night seemed silent as frozen ice –
Still, motionless, and dark.
Not a leaf fluttered, not a soul moved,
Not a child cried, not a mother fed,
Not a dog barked, not a cow moaned,
Not a soul peeped, not a life showed,
Not a beloved kissed, not a rose bloomed;
The night was dark, the Moon was still
But the serpent danced on…!
Shaking its long, thin oily skinny body
Boneless, yet firm, the Serpent moved
Yet, seemed restless even in a
Motionless state, stopping by the woods,
Leaping forth and then again back, watched
The frozen owl, whose eyes even failed to look into
The darkness that only demurred about its own
Existence! The night, still strong and dark crawled...
The serpent smiled, opening its bleak mouth
Dancing, moving, not fearing the night,
As the Moon watched silently,
And the stars stood in awe!
The beats were strong, the anger vile
The movements were fast and the eyes dreadful
The breath was furious, the cry was of lament
And pain; but anger burst out like flames
As the leaves beneath the body crushed and
Failed to breathe, the ground too shook
As the movement quickened!
Was it the cry of pain, or a dirge or of birth?
Or a reluctant chant if that wasn’t made
To be heard in the dark night.
Was it a dance of vengeance, or of merriment?
Was it a mere movement – frozen and cold, and motionless!
The serpent danced again, looking forth and back
Climbed up a branch, fell back on the motionless earth
Where the owl shut her eyes again, and the Moon and
Star watched silently, in this still, dark, soulless night.
Soon the serpent circled into a den,
Watched by the Moon and the Star;
While the owl still faked to sleep
Its eyes shut in fright, motionless, frozen by the night
The Serpent leapt forward into a den…
Where lights could not pierce the walls and
Cross the protected shell…
The ground beneath ferociously trembled
Fire unearthed, spread around the surface,
The owl couched itself further under the cover of the leaves
Its eyes still shut, while the Moon and the Star looked in awe!
The circled Serpent again, moved out
Dancing merrily back and forth, moving freely and celebrating life!
A new life, with a new silky skin, shimmering under the
Moonlit and starry night;
More vibrant, more jubilant
With new births of many more eggs that
Are yet to be unbounded and fiercely protected!
The Serpent danced, gracefully now, circled round, and again
Leapt into the den, where no lights could cross,
Only the Moon and the Star shimmered in the night sky
As leaves fluttered, as motionless silent faded…!
RAJDEEP PATHAK
March 30, 2010
Word - Meaning
demur – express doubts
vile – evil
dirge – funeral song
Saturday, March 27, 2010
The Heart's Beat
Nine months inside the womb
She struggled to move out
From those protected walls
That kept her safe from heat and dust.
She moved, she kicked & she turned,
In her shell she made all the fun;
Together she and her mother smiled
As each day past by
As each day she grew strong
As each day her heart beat
Faster than ever before!
Each day she desired
To be with her mother
Each day she wished
Her mother touch her,
Her mother felt her,
Her mother fed her,
Giving the warmth of the bosom!!!
Finally, the time came when
She felt the urge to come out
Pulled out by the local old nurse –
Whose traditional hands has
Cut many a cord, giving
A breath of life to a new life!
She was out from the shell that
Kept her safe and secure
To the world of heat and dust
Of life and death!
The first cry relieved her anguish
From inside the womb to
A world that she silently looked into
Her little bright eyes, now wandered
As she moved her tiny frail fingers
To catch the worldly bliss!
She waited and her mother too
Felt her warmth in her bosom
Her little hands felt her too
And she looked and wandered; again!
Each smile greeted her,
Each face, she brightened up
Each hand caressed her,
Each pulse felt her
Each eyes envied her!
She was in the world where
She wanted to be, her mother’s
Protected arms…
Her bosom giving the warmth
That she urged long from
Within the womb!
Now she lay in peace
As little heartbeats filled the space around!
Her eyes closed in sleep, her hands still
Feeling the beats of her mother’s bosom
The same peace was in the mother’s eyes
As she watched, smiled and closed her eyes.
Long silence; longer hours of peace
Engulfed, and calmed the tensed mother
Her daughter was in close protected nest
Out in the world, but carefully held and prevented
From the heat, sun and dust
Under the moonlight night
Carefully covered under the shimmering
Night sky, with stars twinkling and smiling
Peace! Finally, peace at heart, peace as the
Heartbeat slowed down – the warmth of the
Child and mother in union – carefully protected
By the stars and night sky;
Aware, but ignored of the morning sun
The day’s heat and the dust
From the hills blown by the wind;
In sleep, in peace, they lay…!
RAJDEEP PATHAK
March 13, 2010
ENDS#
Nine months inside the womb
She struggled to move out
From those protected walls
That kept her safe from heat and dust.
She moved, she kicked & she turned,
In her shell she made all the fun;
Together she and her mother smiled
As each day past by
As each day she grew strong
As each day her heart beat
Faster than ever before!
Each day she desired
To be with her mother
Each day she wished
Her mother touch her,
Her mother felt her,
Her mother fed her,
Giving the warmth of the bosom!!!
Finally, the time came when
She felt the urge to come out
Pulled out by the local old nurse –
Whose traditional hands has
Cut many a cord, giving
A breath of life to a new life!
She was out from the shell that
Kept her safe and secure
To the world of heat and dust
Of life and death!
The first cry relieved her anguish
From inside the womb to
A world that she silently looked into
Her little bright eyes, now wandered
As she moved her tiny frail fingers
To catch the worldly bliss!
She waited and her mother too
Felt her warmth in her bosom
Her little hands felt her too
And she looked and wandered; again!
Each smile greeted her,
Each face, she brightened up
Each hand caressed her,
Each pulse felt her
Each eyes envied her!
She was in the world where
She wanted to be, her mother’s
Protected arms…
Her bosom giving the warmth
That she urged long from
Within the womb!
Now she lay in peace
As little heartbeats filled the space around!
Her eyes closed in sleep, her hands still
Feeling the beats of her mother’s bosom
The same peace was in the mother’s eyes
As she watched, smiled and closed her eyes.
Long silence; longer hours of peace
Engulfed, and calmed the tensed mother
Her daughter was in close protected nest
Out in the world, but carefully held and prevented
From the heat, sun and dust
Under the moonlight night
Carefully covered under the shimmering
Night sky, with stars twinkling and smiling
Peace! Finally, peace at heart, peace as the
Heartbeat slowed down – the warmth of the
Child and mother in union – carefully protected
By the stars and night sky;
Aware, but ignored of the morning sun
The day’s heat and the dust
From the hills blown by the wind;
In sleep, in peace, they lay…!
RAJDEEP PATHAK
March 13, 2010
ENDS#
Monday, February 15, 2010
Master Stroke
This is not too late for South Africa to prove its mettle – they have done it several times – but, what happened at Eden Garden on Monday February 15, 2010 has been written in the history of world cricket and world class sportsmanship. The crowd at Kolkata’s Eden Garden went home after having been treated to a stunning display of stroke play as the two players (read geniuses) put on a 249-run partnership for the third wicket – an ordeal – the South Africans will not forget too soon, leaving them with no option but to win the match to dislodge India from the number one position in the Test rankings.
It was a game where fortunes did not fluctuate much. It was but a remarkable exhibition of talent and stroke play by both the masters – Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar and Virendra Sehwag. While the master blaster Sachin notched up his 47th ton, the crowd also witnessed Sehwag’s 19th century to reach 342 for five at close on the second day.
The only disappointing fact was that the home team lost three key wickets in quick succession at the fag end.
But both Sehwag) and Tendulkar fell at the fag end of the day, but before they who unleashed some superb shots, and there wasn’t an iota of any discomfort at all against the South Africans, who tried every trick in their attempt to break the partnership, however, without much luck.
The game will be remembered for various reasons. First the magic which the 36-year-old batsman demonstrated, as he played each stroke with finesse causing spinner Paul Harris bowl negative line outside the leg stump.
His cheeky singles, with fours and sixes were a delight to watch. No amount of statistics can do justice to the runs Sachin had put. His disciplined dedication and for the game is a reflection to the 20 years of commitment he displayed, yet once again.
Moreover, it was Tendulkar’s fourth century in this series. The first Test was against Bangladesh in Chittagong last month. He hit his second century in the second Test against Bangladesh in Mirpur and his third came in the first Test of the ongoing series in Nagpur.
Sehwag supported the master blaster throughout the game, a partnership of 249 runs. Sehwag was out for 165, while Tendulkar scored 106. The Tendulkar-Sehwag partnership enabled India to take the lead over the Proteas.
As one watched Sachin play his strokes, one could feel the geniuses hand at work dismantling all prejudices and false notions that with age one loses the technique and style of the game.
Tendulkar now has over 18000 runs from over 440 matches since making his debut in 1989. The first player to score fifty centuries in all international cricket combined, he now has more than eighty international centuries.
It was a mighty innings from a genius who has seen it all in the field in these 20 years – from back injury to media’s criticism – and has proved it again, that masters remain masters.
Incessant applauses on Monday at the Eden Gardens greeted the maestro as he crossed another milestone. It seemed it was the first match a young Tendulkar was playing as the hit hard.
Sachin’s achievements are many and yet he remains humble. Against Australia, Tendulkar has scored 2,995 runs, including nine centuries and against Sri Lanka he has amassed 2749 runs with eight centuries. Tendulkar also has an impressive record against arch-rivals Pakistan, against whom he has scored 2,389 runs including five centuries.
In Kolkata, Sachin again proved his commitment to the game and a desire to keep getting better each time he plays. Another journey awaits – a new milestone – as the world waits to see the master strike again.
ENDS#
It was a game where fortunes did not fluctuate much. It was but a remarkable exhibition of talent and stroke play by both the masters – Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar and Virendra Sehwag. While the master blaster Sachin notched up his 47th ton, the crowd also witnessed Sehwag’s 19th century to reach 342 for five at close on the second day.
The only disappointing fact was that the home team lost three key wickets in quick succession at the fag end.
But both Sehwag) and Tendulkar fell at the fag end of the day, but before they who unleashed some superb shots, and there wasn’t an iota of any discomfort at all against the South Africans, who tried every trick in their attempt to break the partnership, however, without much luck.
The game will be remembered for various reasons. First the magic which the 36-year-old batsman demonstrated, as he played each stroke with finesse causing spinner Paul Harris bowl negative line outside the leg stump.
His cheeky singles, with fours and sixes were a delight to watch. No amount of statistics can do justice to the runs Sachin had put. His disciplined dedication and for the game is a reflection to the 20 years of commitment he displayed, yet once again.
Moreover, it was Tendulkar’s fourth century in this series. The first Test was against Bangladesh in Chittagong last month. He hit his second century in the second Test against Bangladesh in Mirpur and his third came in the first Test of the ongoing series in Nagpur.
Sehwag supported the master blaster throughout the game, a partnership of 249 runs. Sehwag was out for 165, while Tendulkar scored 106. The Tendulkar-Sehwag partnership enabled India to take the lead over the Proteas.
As one watched Sachin play his strokes, one could feel the geniuses hand at work dismantling all prejudices and false notions that with age one loses the technique and style of the game.
Tendulkar now has over 18000 runs from over 440 matches since making his debut in 1989. The first player to score fifty centuries in all international cricket combined, he now has more than eighty international centuries.
It was a mighty innings from a genius who has seen it all in the field in these 20 years – from back injury to media’s criticism – and has proved it again, that masters remain masters.
Incessant applauses on Monday at the Eden Gardens greeted the maestro as he crossed another milestone. It seemed it was the first match a young Tendulkar was playing as the hit hard.
Sachin’s achievements are many and yet he remains humble. Against Australia, Tendulkar has scored 2,995 runs, including nine centuries and against Sri Lanka he has amassed 2749 runs with eight centuries. Tendulkar also has an impressive record against arch-rivals Pakistan, against whom he has scored 2,389 runs including five centuries.
In Kolkata, Sachin again proved his commitment to the game and a desire to keep getting better each time he plays. Another journey awaits – a new milestone – as the world waits to see the master strike again.
ENDS#
Bleating Soul
The heart stops beating
As each day passes without
Hearing your voice.
From far corner of a room
The slight to and fro movement of
The chair is heard no more. Even
The stick and your chimneypot hat
Hangs by the side of the door!
Where have you gone?
Your pen lies still at the
Desk by the side of the old
Lamp – this never burns any further.
That was the day when
You wrote the last lines
Of your obituary and still
Wept silent tears, while
You avoided my looks!
Ah! And you rose from that chair
As if you had suddenly got the
Strength to rule the world – seemed
You had finally achieved your goal?
I watched you and felt you were crazy;
Did you want to taste the red old wine?
Or wear the old, brown gifted coat of
Your marriage; your weak wrinkled hands
Made some signals, I couldn’t catch…!
Alas! If I could catch the time too.
Hold it back and roll the course – the
Time rolled faster and your pen slipped as
You sat back to write something new.
Wish you could’ve done it
Over a bottle of red old wine….!
Three Bullets and the sounds of silence ...!
While the nation observed the anniversary of the martyrdom of Mahatma Gandhi Jan 30 2010 – that marked the 62nd anniversary of the Martyrdom of the Mahatma – few people are aware of the exact place where one of the most infamous political assassinations in history took place.
The streets of Delhi that lead to 5, Tees January Marg - earlier known as Albuquerque Road - seem to hold little or no significance for many. The building, today called Gandhi Smriti, is the historical place where Mahatma Gandhi lived the last 144 days of his life.
After his arrival from Calcutta (today Kolkata) on Sep 9, 1947, Mahatma Gandhi was motored straight to the building, then called Birla House. On his visit to Delhi, Gandhi preferred staying at the Harijan Basti, also called Valmiki Mandir, at Panchkuiyan Road, but as the refugees from West Punjab occupied the Basti, after the partition of India, there were concerns over his security.
The epic life of the Father of the Nation ended in the sacred place of the prayer ground of this hallowed house, which today treasures many memories of the last few days of his life. The old Birla House was acquired by the government of India in 1971 and converted into a national memorial and dedicated to the nation Aug 15, 1973.
The imposing structure of the simple Lutyen's style bungalow where Gandhi occupied just a small room has been witness to the developments in post-independent India. It was here, impelled by the communal riots, that Gandhi declared his intention to fast for an indefinite period. Only on receiving assurance from all communities, Mahatma Gandhi broke his fast - the last one - by taking a glass of orange juice from Maulana Abdul Kalam Azad.
'Gandhi Smriti', says Dr. Savita Singh, director of the organisation, 'is a place of pilgrimage for millions of people from all parts of India and even beyond her shores', adding, 'a mass of humanity continues to come to the memorial as if to atone for the sin committed by one of us on a Friday evening almost six decades back.'
The preserves at Gandhi Smriti also include the room where Mahatma Gandhi lived and the prayer ground where he held a mass congregation every evening. It was here that Nathuram Vinayak Godse's bullets felled Gandhiji on his way on Friday, Jan 30, 1948, at 5.17 p.m.
A larger than life statue of Mahatma Gandhi, with a boy and a girl holding a dove in their hands standing on either side, emerging out of the globe - sculpted by eminent sculptor Ram Sutar - symbolising Gandhi's universal concern for the poor and the deprived, welcomes everybody at the main entrance of the Gandhi Smriti with these words: 'My life is my message' revealing Gandhi's practical moral attitude.
In total contrast one can't help but notice the impassive structure of the National Defence College just across the road, with three cannons staring in the direction of the place personifying the eternal message of truth, peace and ahimsa (non-violence) which Gandhi stood for all his life. The structure (read cannons) stands either in total defiance of these ideologies or can even be interpreted as a salutation in 'silence' to that eternal spirit.
On display in the museum are photographs, sculptures, paintings, frescos, inscriptions on rocks and relics pertaining to the years Mahatma Gandhi spent here. The meagre personal effects of Gandhiji too are carefully preserved.
If the Martyr's Column indicates the spot where Gandhi was assassinated, a bronze flame next to the lawns sends the message of continued hope and faith. The sparkling white walls inside the museum are covered with well-documented photographs on the life and message of Gandhi.
Further, the Eternal-Gandhi Multi-Media Exhibition - opened to the public on April 14, 2005, and dedicated to the nation - which uses state-of-the-art electronic hardware, makes it interactive and interpretative and is an experience by itself. By presenting all this through the latest technology, it is an endeavour to reaffirm and relive Gandhian values.
This unique multi-media presentation displays a language of physical interface, actions derived from classical symbols of the spinning wheel, turning of the prayer wheels, touching symbolic pillars, the act of hands touching sacred objects, collaboratively constructed quilts, sacred chanting in the collective group, the touching and rotating of prayer beads and so on.
'Today Gandhi Smriti is not just a heritage sight. It is an educational centre for people of all ages, especially for children. And children are bound to carry the eternal message of peace and non-violence of Mahatma Gandhi', says Smt. Tara Gandhi Bhattacharjee, vice-chairperson of Gandhi Smriti and Darshan Samiti and granddaughter of Mahatma Gandhi.
'It is important to give good memories to children in their formative years, and the message which they (children) take back from here will help build good citizens, make them strong and courageous and also full of compassion'.
By adding new dimensions to the historical place, Gandhi Smriti is a centre of pilgrimage, a place of learning. Gandhi is remembered every moment for his passionate adherence to truth and non-violence. He was modern and yet rooted to timeless traditions and values. He was not just a political revolutionary but also a great social thinker.
Representing truth, compassion and non-violence, Mahatma Gandhi belongs to the entire humanity. Millions of people and the world citizens visit Gandhi Smriti at 5 Tees January Marg – the place of the Martyrdom of the Mahatma for truth and non-violence – for spiritual inspiration, and in search of their own truth.
“Homage to the philosophy of Mahatma Gandhi is homage to the greatest spiritual and creative flows of man and nature of the past and the present that have kept the spark of eternal love glowing in each one of us”, says Smt Tara Gandhi Bhattacharjee.
As Albert Einstein on hearing the news of Gandhi's assassination said, 'Generations to come, it may be, will scarce believe that such a one as this ever in flesh and blood walked upon this earth.'
Sainthood often distances men from men, yet Gandhi was for the poorest of the poor. To stand in silence at least one day in a year for a minute - leaving the daily life chaos behind - before the Martyr's Column, will be a tribute to the man who helped us think as citizens. This would be far greater than the emotional homage that has obscured the thrust and significance of his teachings.
Ends#
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