Impaired Vision

The stars pervaded the heavens into an exquisite canvas, possessing a faded, silver blush as if were the distant, coruscating fragments of ethereal fire. A sense of benevolence and satisfaction springing from the horizon, a promise of life in the obscurity, appeared as if I was spectating a clip from a historic fable, hypnotized by its charisma. My eyelids gradually twitching, draping a blanket over my mind, waiting for consciousness to fade....."I welcome you.... Fall into me with great relief Oh Holy Jesus!! Am not afraid of being lost".

"আশ্বিনের শারদপ্রাতে বেজে উঠেছে আলোক মঞ্জীর

ধরণীর বহিরাকাশে অন্তরিত মেঘমালা

প্রকৃতির অন্তরাকাশে জাগরিত জ্যোতির্ময়ী জগন্মাতার আগমন বার্তা"

With her scorching rays cascading onto the globe all round, with an unprecedented sense of joy, with that primal urge to rush out and gasp great lung-fulls of the smell of petrichor and" shiuli phool" in the air, I somehow find myself standing erect in front of the Howrah bridge at present. The construction stood with such a grandeur that it was no less than a magical wonder to me. Even words fail to express its eternal beauty. Every corner abuzzed with activities and entertainment, every bong eagerly waiting for Maa to arrive, gearing up for a grand celebration. From households to residential complexes, all were perhaps ready to welcome the Goddess in their own way. Not just a cultural extravaganza but a family reunification. 

Now before the old melody of Birendra Kishna Bhadra's "Chandipath", (a blend of nostalgia and hope) saturates my ear buds, before the street mingles with the same notes coming from the tea- stall owner's radio," Remember!...no matter how hard the Bengali community in Chittaranjan Park try revivifying the ambience of Durga Puja in Delhi, It'll never be like that of Kolkata (The City of Joy)".

In an universe scourged by miss givings and uncertainties, it's a strange source of gratitude, a strange source of hope.