Travel

Sometimes I wonder whom do these shoes belong to. Is it for me to comfort my feet or the roads, seas and mountains that beckon my soul? While I am perennially torn between the laziness of the mind that craves to stop by and the craze to become travel the entire world, the days quickly turn into nights and the sparkling summers continue to cry for the wishful winters.

While this continuous battle between the senses make the clock tick by, it is invariably the possibility of a rendezvous with the whispering woods and a sojourn with the blue of the seas that make compass of life point toward a hopeful tomorrow. For those who know, the ages are marked not by the years but by the miles we travel.

Captured By: Soumabha Basu,  Location: Krabi, Thailand

The days are too short to live and die in the same place. The shoes would rather be torn in the roads than gather dust in the rack. The backpack is never too heavy for those who love to go out, travel and know more of what is there, inside us. And at day'e end, all that we remember is that we once made a journey to a far away place where the Land, the Sea and the Wind all came into one, giving birth to Life!

The Tide Of Time

Tick tock, tick tock the clock went by, about its long journey,

Of a thousand miles and beyond, breaking the earthly walls

That divide the nations, the distance that separate the longing hearts,

Not a stop it takes, nor a pause to think of things that she could not have.

Captured By: Soumabha Basu, Location: Kala Ghoda, Mumbai

She is like the free girl whom no land could capture and no relations could hold,

As she flew past everyone and everything she loved, without being loved back,

Through the waves of the oceans and the greens of the mountains,

The Tide of Time waited for no one, not even herself, in the journey that was long.

मदहोशी

मदहोश तोह हम सब हैं,
कोई शराब  में , तोह कोई शबाब में ,
कोई इश्क़ में , तोह कोई इबादत में  ,
कोई नफरत में , तोह कोई उदासी में ,
ज़माना तोह बस बेमतलब बदनाम हैँ !

मदहोशी के इस महफ़िल में
खोया हैं अपना होश तोह बहोतो ने,
शमा जले हर शाम किसी के  आँगन में
जहाँ जज़बात को कैयेद करे हम अल्फाज़ो में !

Captured By: Soumabha Basu, Location: Hyde Park, London

The impossible story

Hope is quite strange indeed. Often it is like that nagging piece of dirt that keeps sticking around, no matter how hard you try to clean it. What is more remarkable is the perennial affair hope has, with heartbreak. Isn't it astounding to see how much they complement each other, much like two lovers, never meant to be together? It is like falling in love with someone impossible to have, over and over again, only to be heartbroken and reassuring the impossibility of the love!

Falling apart and putting up back together is perhaps what is called the cycle of life. Hope can come from so many things the everyday life has to offer, from a smile from a stranger to the smell of rain waiting to drench us with a longing for what could have been but never was, putting ourselves back together is only a momentary stop, before destiny, or the illusion of which, tears us apart, once again!

Captured By: Soumabha Basu, Location: Seven Islands, Krabi, Thailand

As we come across myriads of souls in our journey, invariably losing ourselves in the labyrinth of emotions, soon we would realize that there are only two constants. The first is heartbreak, that tears us apart, and second is hope, which puts us back together. They continue to outplay each other, love and hate one another, as the story goes on.

Durga Pujo

The Bengali connection with Pujo has been an everlasting story of everything life is about. A perennial affair of smiles and tears, of longing and letting go, of life and living! Pujo is inter-weaved with every Bengali household, and by being Bengali, you break the boundaries of religion, caste and every petty man-made barrier. It is the sudden burst of emotion, the love for art and all that touches the heart, the outright disdain for everything superficial, passion for football, maach and adda over a sip of hot tea, preferably, in a clay cup, is what defines a Bengali!

Captured By: Soumabha Basu, Location: Calcutta

I doubt if there is any second festivity in the world, where an entire culture, separated both geographically and economically, get together and celebrate, not just the triumph of good over bad, but life itself. It is kind of tough to frame Pujo within a definition, but then i realized, why define it in the first place! Let us sit back and relax, much like the Bengali prefers to, and let Pujo be, the way it is.

Captured By: Soumabha Basu, Location: Mumbai

Till every echo of Asche Bochor Abar Hobe, may the Mother give strength for the long wait as the year comes around.

The dark side of the moon

Quietly, beneath the waves of our conscious mind

Mindless thoughts of randomness swim by,

At times ebbing, and intensifying in the others,

Leaving behind shells of imaginary madness in the shores.

The world is a theater, they said, and we the actors,

Essaying countless roles of the societal face,

The inner soul, though, shares the same stage,

Only in the backdrop, devoid of the lights and the noise.

Captured By: Soumabha Basu, Location: Planet Earth

In its tranquil days and solitary nights, the soul cries out

Dialogues heard by none, but repeated manifold,

Eclipsed by the mask of glitter and glam,

Sneaking a meek look, from the dark side of the moon.

The world inside too, has all the bustle and chaos,

Of a constant poise between duty and desire,

Awaiting its turn to perform under the sun.

Till then, the waves crash, as messengers of the other world.

The Journey

Sometime, sooner or later, we all start our journey. The endless walk to a place beyond our boundaries of sight, but visioned by destiny, often commences without the chaos and bustle. The quiet start, brimful of the fear of the unknown, takes us long beyond our conscious judgment can.

Captured By: Soumabha Basu, Location: Gorai Beach, Mumbai

 Till then, keep walking. For the journey is long and you have got smiles to keep as the miles go by!