Turona’s Mountain

There was a small village at the foot of a mountain. The village was called Shantipur. In that village lived a little girl named Turona. Every day, Turona would gaze at the big mountain from afar. In the morning, the mountain sparkled in golden sunlight, and by evening, it glowed in a soft reddish hue …

One day, Turona decided she would climb to the top of that mountain. Everyone said, ‘It’s too high, you won’t be able to.’ But Turona smiled and replied, ‘How will I know if I don’t try?’ …

The next morning, she set off with a bottle of water, some fruit, and a notebook. On the way, she grew tired, her feet ached on the stones, yet she didn’t stop. Sometimes she sat down to rest, listening to the sound of the wind and watching the birds fly …

Finally, after noon, she reached the top of the mountain. Looking down, she saw how beautiful her little village was, green fields, tiny houses, and a silver river flowing gently through it …

In her notebook, Turona wrote, ‘The joy of reaching the highest place only comes when you refuse to give up.’ …

Then she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The air smelled of freedom, and inside her heart, there was peace …

She realized that the real mountain wasn’t outside, but within her. And that day, she had conquered both …

How we used to write short stories when we were young! I remember how every night I’d make up stories to tell my little sisters before they fell asleep. I used to jot down bits of them in my notebook too. Often, I’d go up to our rooftop with that notebook, gazing at the distant sky until my thoughts drifted away. I wanted to write, and sometimes, I did. Other times, I simply got lost in my own imagination!

I’m sure it happened with you too!

Anyways, now tell me,
What is the ‘mountain’ in your own life that you’ve been afraid to climb?
Or tell me,
When was the last time you tried something even though others doubted you?

Quiet Contemplation

Your absence has gone through me, like thread through a needle.

Everything I do is stitched with its color.”

Separation by W.S. Merwin

The Poetry in That Girl

I reconnected with that girl anew –
Who once embraced life fully …
Who danced with every step and radiated joy
Whose eyes were some sunflowers, blooming
And whose soul ignited fireworks, dazzling …

I played music for that girl again …
In hopes that its melody would ignite her spirit within
Creating a haven for her to emerge from the shadows
And dance once more under the stars …

Knowing that she would find solace within these moments
With each sunset painted in hues of gold
And each gentle breeze whispering
Through the trees ….
I hoped to create a sanctuary where she could feel safe enough to reveal herself once again …

Deep within, I felt her presence stirring,
A flicker of recognition amidst the silence …
Longing for my kindness and effort that shimmered with possibility
I vowed to nurture her return
To guide her back into the light
Where she rightfully belonged ..
She belonged to the poetry within her …

Little Roksana

The pic is from the archive of memories of a young girl; another of her mirror image. She was travelling by train, from Kolkata to Delhi ….

It was an amazing journey!

That Yellow

She paints grace
In glowing yellow …
As the brush-strokes
Softly glide through her skin …
Hers is a delicate face
Soothing and serene;
Tread with a gentle touch
In colors unseen ..
That yellow color girl
In tranquil pose ..
She’s a grace …

Yellow is my favourite color … which color do you like most?

Sielvartas

If someone asks me,
‘What did you do today?’

I won’t be hesitant to say,
‘It was difficult but I could breathe the day …
It’s a hopelessness yet hope found its way …
Though I cannot predict if all will be well,
But I tried my best, trying to break through the spell …

It rained a lot today, a lot, a lot, a lot; after a long, long, long time. …. It made me a bit contemplative …. Does this happen with you when it rains?

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Sielvartas/ lithuanian
(n.) This term means deep sorrow or ‘soul tumbling’. It can simply be a state of seemingly endless grief …

Javaphile

Coffee rings tell tales of art,
Creativity …

Javaphile
(n.) someone who loves coffee

Jijivisha

The cosmos is within us
The dance is absolutely amazing
Abundantly fabulous …

Imagination is great
For the knowledge we possess
The inner child returns to find
A new era of time …
Becoming a wild free soul, fabulous …

The soul has the rhyme
From the time it’s born …
Listen to the Talisman of your own,
Daydreaming in this cosmic energy,
Travelling to the worlds, fabulous …

Let the universe find
The questions you have,
The answers you need –
All are dwelling inside
Waiting for a spark to
Find its magic, fabulously powerful …
A new pathway to excellence…

You belong to the mysterious space
Your dreams are coming back to you
There’s a song called cosmic abyss
From the beginning to eternity
The eternal flame, that’s fabulous …

Jijivisha/ hindi
(n.) jijivisha is the intense desire to live (or continue living) in the highest sense of being …

A humble video of JBC Paintings Prints on white ambush A4 paper (300gsm).

I hope you’ll like these.☺️✨🤲

♥️

A Melancholic Music

You are like a music
Which creates melancholic
moods inside my heart …
A melody that lingers, night and day …
I take time to listen to it,
I find myself enchanted;
When nothing seems to ease my restlessness
I listen to you, my music
To walk the long journey of life
Even though it only creates melancholic moods
But you are like that music to me
Loving, healing, heart-touching
Connecting my soul to you
Forever and always ….

Apharwat Peak, Gulmarg

Grey isn’t What I’m Meant to be …

Life is somewhat grey
Everywhere
Just monotony
Lost and lonely …

Don’t you know?

Only when you stay
Life is colorful ….
A hopeful glow
Echoes of brighter joy
Birds sing cheerful songs
Rays of sunshines warm my cheeks
My yellow dyed dreams return …

Now it’s grey
Everywhere …

When will you come?
Without you, I feel grey ….

Don’t you know?
Grey isn’t what I’m meant to be …

I wish …

I wish
I were a bird!
So that I could
Fly to you
Just right now …

Midst the Silence …

Wherever you’ll be, I shall be able to see you

Midst the silence of the valley
As I walk through
I feel
My hurt inside is too loud …

Midst the silence of the valley
As I walk through
I feel
I’ll never ever forget you …

Midst the silence of the valley
As I walk through
I feel
I just don’t want to let you go
But inside I know I must …

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The Murmuring Sound – A Painting

It’s leaving my home for a sweetheart friend’s home ….

Nadia asked me why it’s titled as ‘The Murmuring Sound’ …..

I m consciously aware of the flourishing things at this moment of my life rather than many other distractions of day to day life…. The murmuring sound from a faraway land keeps whispering to me that there are some blessings getting my way now …

O God, when I listen to the voices of animals, the sounds of trees, the murmurings of water, the singing of birds, the whistling of the wind, or the boom of thunder, I see in them evidence of Your unity; I feel that You are supreme power, omniscience, supreme knowledge, and supreme justice. I recognize You, O God, in the trials I am going through. May Your pleasure be my pleasure, too. May I be Your joy, the joy that a Father feels for a son. And may I think of You calmly and with determination, even when I find it hard to say I love You.

Paulo Coelho

An
#JianBirdGallery❄️

Could Never Go Back