What is Potential But a Life full of Possibilities.....

Today's Wordy Wednesday Prompt has been given by Elly Stornebrink. She is a wonderful blogger and a lively person. It has been a pleasure to discover her through this platform of Blog-A-Rythm. 

For the word-prompt 'Potential', I am submitting my entry below.



Work hard

Believe in yourself

You can surmount mountains

You can overcome hurdles

You have the potential

To do what lies within your reach

You have the potential 

To do what remains outside your reach

After all,

What is potential

But a state of mind

That gives you the ability 

To achieve

To rise

You just have to trust -

Trust your inner voice

Prod yourself further

On the path that lies ahead

Look behind sometimes

At the footprints you leave

Learn from the places that have some muddled prints

They tell you where you faltered

They tell you that you tried

They tell you that you have lived

A life exploring your potential......

Sad is the state of those

Who trust not, try not

Sadder the state of those who stop and smother lives

Lives that had the potential to be lived

Lives that had the potential to bloom like fragrant flowers

Lives of little unborn girls

Who had the potential to do what any boy can presumably do

Lives of little aborted girls

Who might have surpassed all boys

If only their potential had not been killed

After all

What is potential

But a life full of possibilities

A heart that can beat

A mind that can think

A body that can breathe

In a soul that can believe

Many potentials don't see

The bright sun

The silver moon

The twinkling stars

The rain-laden clouds

The azure sky

The vast oceans

The verdant earth....

Many potentials don't hear

The music of life

The harmony of cool breeze

The rustling of leaves

The splashing of waves....

Many potentials don't bathe 

In the fragrance of Aurora

In the scents of blossoming flowers

In the balmy tender touch

Of motherly affection.....

Ah

Potential killed...

Killed by prejudice

Cries alone

In some corner....

Untouched, untapped

And yet sullied and stained

Irony of life.....

If you liked the poem and the thought, do read the following two posts on similar topics I wrote earlier. The first one is a guest post I wrote for ideasforideas.org and the second one is a post from my other blog meredeshkimitti.wordpress.com.

I am Born Again

Winds of Change - Embracing the Girl Child

Vladimir : "Yes, yes, we're magicians."

Day 3 of the challenge in which I was tagged by Lata. 

Today I am reminded of Beckett and his powerful play Waiting for Godot. I remember reading it many years back when I was studying literature. It was a play that would bewilder me at times as it was open to multiple layers of interpretation. Till today I cannot forget it. It is an absurdist play, a satire on the kind of lives we live by repeating certain acts in a Sisyphean manner. The following lines aptly justify certain acts of ours which we do only to fulfill a void in our lives. These acts give an illusion of a meaningful existence and yet in the end, all we do is 'wait' for 'Godot' who never arrives. In doing this, we become what Vladimir calls "magicians".

Estragon: We always find something, eh Didi, to give us the impression we exist?

Vladimir: Yes, yes, we're magicians.”
― Samuel Beckett, Waiting for Godot

Do share your thoughts on the quote, or the play if you have read.

On Day 3, I am tagging the following four bloggers:

Elly Stornebrink

Vyomi Malik

Kokila Gupta

Tomichan Matheikal

Food for the Goddess

They often left food for her near the lamp. It would miraculously vanish and they thought Goddess Imoinu ima was pleased by them and appeased by their offering.

 Deb was an eight year old domestic help in their household. He could not play like Ajoy because he was not born with the silver spoon in his mouth. He had no access to the mouth-watering delicacies that Ajoy was forcefully fed by his mother. He had to satisfy himself with the left-overs.

One day, Deb could not clean the house as he was sick. The master of the household got very angry. He had invited the head of an NGO running in his area. The NGO worked for poor kids and saved them from child labor, malnutrition and abuse. Ajoy's father had a given some substantial amount of donation and secured his position as a good samaritan in a hopeless world. The unclean house enraged him and he beat Deb and threw him out of his house.

A crying Deb, jobless and starving, had nowhere to go. He waited for someone to come from the house and take him back. But nobody came. He decided to spend the night under the tree he had often watered.

That night, surprisingly. the morsels of food left near the lamp, for Goddess Imoinu Ima, remained untouched.

Ajoy's mother was panicky in the morning.
Ajoy's father was called.
Their was a long pause.

Then suddenly Ajoy's mother realized her folly.

"The Goddess is angry because you threw out Deb. Bring him back', she pleaded to her husband.

The husband was god-fearing man too. He rushed outside.

Deb was still sleeping. He touched his hand. Deb got up and apologized. The master of the household made him promise that Deb would do his duty well. Deb promised.

Deb was back in the house.

Ajoy's mom was feeding Ajoy. She did not ask Deb to eat anything. Deb started mopping the floor. The day went just as always for Deb.

Night came. Food was left near the lamp.
It was gone in the morning. The Goddess was appeased.

Everyone was happy in the household.

Picture Prompt provided by blogger Parul Kashyap Thakur

'Without music, life would be a mistake'

On Day 2 of the 3 Day Quote Challenge, I again thank Lata for tagging me. 

The rules for the 3 Day Quote Challenge are simple.

1. Post a favorite quote of yours for 3 consecutive days,  obviously  a different quote each day from any book, any author of your choice. It could also be your own quote.
2. Nominate 3 bloggers with each post to challenge them.
3. Thank the person who nominated you.

Today's quote is from one of the greatest philosophers of all times Friedrich Nietzsche:

“Without music, life would be a mistake.” 

― Friedrich Nietzsche, Twilight of the Idols, Or, How to Philosophize With the Hammer

I have often felt that only those with a sensitive heart love music. Appreciation of arts, in any form, be it music, painting or theatre comes from someone who can empathize, someone who has a receptive personality. My grandfather often used to tell the story of the ruthless Mughal king Aurangzeb who hated and banned music from his kingdom. In recent history, Taliban are an example of the same brutal force that stifled art in any form. Do read a fictional piece by me here - Have they come to take my Doll? It is a short story of a girl who loves her doll a lot. She does not understand what animosity can someone have with her precious toy. 

I do not know the context in which Nietzsche wrote these lines but they hold the truth of life. Without music, there is no life. We are mere robots dancing to the tune of things that happen to us on a day-to-day basis. When music happens, the heart beats in a lively tone. When music happens, life sings to us the songs of joy as well as sorrow. When music happens, ego melts away. 

My mom was a wonderful singer. She still has a great voice but does not follow her passion anymore. Do read a short write-up on her I wrote a few days back - Songs Mom Sang

Today I am tagging the following bloggers

Alok Singhal

Maniparna

Top10reviews.in

For Day 1 quote, read my entry here - A Small Ration of Tools...

'A Small Ration of Tools'

I have been tagged by Lata Subramanian who blogs at Lata Wonders for the 3 Day Quote Challenge.

The rules for the 3 Day Quote Challenge are simple.

1. Post a favorite quote of yours for 3 consecutive days,  obviously  a different quote each day from any book, any author of your choice. It could also be your own quote.

1. Nominate 3 bloggers with each post to challenge them.

1. Thank the person who nominated you.

He had what he called just a small ration of tool:

A painted book.

A handful of pencils.

A mindful of thoughts.

Like a simple puzzle, he put them together.

- The Book Thief by Markus Zusack

For an avid book lover inside me, the title of this book was intriguing enough. I did not know what the book was about until the day I grabbed a copy of it from the library and started reading it. It is one of the most poignant books I have ever read. This is just one of the most memorable lines from the book. I don't know if it will fall in the category of a proper 'quote' but I begin the challenge from this one.

Thanks to Lata who has nominated me for this challenge. 

I am nominating the following bloggers for Day 1

Prateek

Manisha Sharma

Purba Chakraborty

A World full of Small Spaces....

An excellent prompt by a fellow blogger I have recently discovered - Usha Menonji

Being new to B-A-R, I just busied myself in submitting prompt-based posts. But when I read what others are writing, I realized my mistake. I seek apologies from all the previous bloggers who gave such great prompts to write on, and who I did not acknowledge in my blog posts. Do overlook this fault of mine. 

This world is a small place
A cozy nook 
Where love ought to flourish
But sadly it just perishes
As we all fight for space
Space built by ego
Fed by anger
and jealousy
We need a smile
And a hug
To break barriers
To come closer
But we know not how to bring that curve on our lips
We know not how to loosen up
We forget the magic of touch
We forego the magic of compassion
It is so hard to let go
We keep holding on to regrets
Nurturing hatred and indifference
Creating chasms where bridges ought to be
We pull down the curtains to let others out
Out of sight
Creating foggy visions
Straining stares
Frowning brows
Contriving in countless ways
To make an antagonistic world
Which is not small
But home to small thoughts and petty minds
A world of alienation
Of isolation
Of distances
A world full of small spaces.....

My other posts on B-A-R prompts

Power that is kind stem not from Cruel Mind

Scream

Silly Stillies

Book Review : Kaleidoscopic Lives – Ensemble Narratives of the Common Man by Roji Abraham

Man has always felt the need to tell stories. Ancient people told their stories through art. With the development of language of communication, narratives flowed from one generation to another orally in the form of folk tales, fables and legends. On the way, the plots and characters changed and were embellished as per the perspective of the teller. These stories survived by word of mouth, although they kept changing in one way or the other. With the development of scripts and languages, stories came down to us as the written word. They became permanent. While initially, stories were meant to teach a moral lesson, with time, they evolved into a complex form of literary art. Today, short story genre is a recognized field. It is a genre that is not easy to write. Therefore, mastering the art of writing short stories takes time and effort.

When I picked up Roji Abraham’s Kaleidoscopic Lives – Ensemble Narratives of the Common Man, it was the title that first caught my attention. Titles are like windows. They let us see something but leave the rest to imagination. The title speaks of narratives of the common man, a figure appearing frequently in present day political discourses. It hints at the variegated colors of life.

My expectations were well-raised and the very first story hooked me completely. Chocolate Uncle left me mesmerized, making me relive my memories of childhood. It is a tale of sweetness, a short but well-spun yarn with strands of historical forces intertwined into the personal lives of the characters. There is no detailed analysis of the historical tensions at work but they are subtly hinted at, which adds to the text’s richness and the responses it induces in the reader.

Life devoid of humor would be very dull. So we have the Thai Massage, The Court Witness and The Cripple. These stories evoke contrasting responses from the reader. The titillations of youth, the worries of a legal tussle the character is involved in and the sympathy aroused from hearing the story of the crippled man are well complemented by the climax these stories reach. Expected behavioral reactions are dealt with in a clever way making space for subtle humor.

The First Fan and Pilla the Thief deal with both the past and present lives of the protagonists. While the former deals with first impressions which are often misleading and throw light on individual biases and social prejudices, the latter is a tale of reform and social acceptance.

The sexual promiscuity in The Talented Cook weighs well against the poignant tale Till the Day I Die. The care-free joviality of the cook is well-documented in not just his cooking skills but in the other ‘passionate’ spheres of life. The young men learn important life-lessons from the cook’s escapades but also risk running into trouble. Till the Day I Die is placed at the opposite end of the spectrum. It deals with true love in a restrictive society. It is a befitting end to the motley of emotions that pervade the book.

Shahab is another narrative that registers unconditional love and nostalgia for unfulfilled dreams. Sometimes, some people come in our life without knocking the door and they fill up a void that nobody else saw or sensed. Shahab is one such story that registers a good deed done and a cherished dream fulfilled. It leaves the reader with a feel-good factor. So does The Cab-Driver’s Story. Responsibilities force the cab driver to choose a career he had not sought. What the story does to him and to the person who hears his story is what one needs to look out for. It is a touching narrative with positive ending.

One of my favorites in the collection was The German Housemate. What happens when two opposite personalities share one roof? Do they fight, ignore each other or become friends? What exactly is ‘friendship’? Is it the unspoken bond between two people who come close to each other just because of spatial proximity? How much can one overlook the mannerisms of a loud roommate? Does an ‘awkward hug’ seal the friendship bond for good? It is a story that will stay with the reader once the book is completed – a special treat of words and wonderful characterization.

 There is a beautiful line at the end of the last story in the collection Till the Day I Die. “The curse of education is a rational mind……it takes away the beauty of dreams.” Roji Abraham has lived his ‘beauty of dreams’ by weaving this narrative collection by creating characters we meet every other day. For those who want to read something that connects them to their real lives and yet transports them to a distant world, then this book is a must-read.

 “A short story is a love affair, a novel is a marriage. A short story is a photograph, a novel is a film.”           - Writer Lorrie Moore  

Author's Facebook Page

Author Roji Abraham's Blog

To buy the book from amazon, click here