Today is the anniversary of birthday, of Rabindranath Tagore, poet-philosopher and many more talents to quote.
My eyes moist and heart fills with pride when, I sing and listen to Indian National Anthem.
My humble salutation.
Music To Heart and Soul
Some days I sit long hours glaring into the computer screen. I know what I want to write. But, the words simply refuse to come and thoughts vanish into oblivion.
Here I am in one such boundless moment where, the mind is behaving meditative and I sense an absolute blankness.
However, somewhere deep within, I hear one of my favourite Rabindrasangeet play. “Aaguner parashmoni chhnoao praane E jibon punnyo karo……….” The lines literally mean “purify my soul”. And blessed I feel.
I do not remember the ‘first time’ when I got to listen to this song. But I do remember the ‘every time’ when I listen to this song, I’m overwhelmed with emotions.
The lines written in Bengali with its in-depth meaning, spoke the universal language. It touched my heart deeply.
It is then that I picked up an English translation of Nobel Laureate Rabindranath Tagore’s Gitanjali (Song Offerings), a collection of poems.
To me, the precious creation is an honest heart’s journey of life in communion with the Almighty, and the spiritual connection in every simple thing that makes them the most extraordinary beings in life.
This year marks Gurudev’s (as he is fondly called) 154 Birth Anniversary (May 7, 1861). His creative endeavours are still refreshing.
To quote one of my dearest friends from West Bengal, “Meaning changes with each passing phase of life….That’s the magic of Gitanjali.” “That’s the magic of Rabindrasangeet too,” I added.
Little wonder, my mind plays his music therapeutically. And I write, the words from my heart.
Originally published, May 7, 2014
“My greens turn yellow
As some of my family
We fall and get carried away
somewhere in the garden
We are there…”
Tenacious little petiole
Held together, what once
Was a charming leaf
That fell off into my arm
The same afternoon, I chose to sit under its tree
Reminiscing one particular day from childhood
Where I fell down with a cup of ice cream
And my father called it my tree.
Copyright© 2018 Deeya Nayar-Nambiar
She lay by the roadside quiet and lifeless
Walking away after a meal into the wilderness;
Her time has come to an end
Reality still to wade my heart’s bend…
The stray little kitty
Who made me witty,
My mind pictures her in my camera click
And I prefer to see her live and blink.
We are different and so are our fates
Yet care transpired to affection and long waits.
In a moment she has become my past
But memories of her short beautiful life will last.
Wonder if I shall miss her to eternity?
And awareness reminds “it’s destiny”.