If I Were the Wind

If I were the wind on a restless sea,

Drifting through valleys wild and free,

I’d sigh your name through leaf and pine,

And ache to feel your breath on mine.

I'd dance through dusk, I'd chase your flame,

Yet never still,  you’d never claim.

If I were a mountain, proud and cold,

Cloaked in silence, ancient, bold,

You’d come as a cloud with arms outspread,

And lay your longing on my head.

I’d crave the warmth your mists would send,

A touch that melts, that doesn’t end.

If I were a flower, soft and shy,

Turning my face when hearts pass by,

You’d come as a bee with hunger sweet,

And hum your need around my feet.

I’d bloom for you, though touched by none,

My thorns would fall, undone, undone.

If I were the earth, so scarred, so dry,

Cracked beneath a hollow sky,

You’d fall as rain, in quiet grace,

And kiss each wound, each barren place.

Oh, how I’d yearn to drink you deep,

And in your arms, forget to sleep.

If I were the moon in velvet space,

Lonely in my silent grace,

You’d rise as the sun I cannot hold,

Your fire too bright, your light too bold.

Yet still I’d wait, night after night,

To bask again in borrowed light.

©®Madhumita

REMEMBERING BHAI

 

For My Dearest Bhai

A sibling is someone with whom you share not just your parents, grandparents, uncles and aunts, but also the very fabric of your growing years, the laughter, the mischief, the lessons, and the silences. And when that sibling is younger, you don’t just grow up with them, you grow up for them in many ways. You learn responsibility, protection, and sometimes, even love in its purest form.

My younger brother—my first friend, and at times, my first enemy too. In many ways, he was like an adopted child to me. I was the louder one, the naughtier, extroverted didibhai for him. He, in contrast, was gentle, quiet, and kept to himself. I would tease him, scold him, and play the bossy elder sister, yet beneath it all, there was always a bond that needed no words. He was a simple soul, yet always had his quiet watch over me.

When he was just a toddler, he fell gravely ill. It was the skill and care of the army doctors that saved him. But I’ve always felt that trauma left its imprint. It made him quieter, more inward in his journey through life.

He chose to live like a sage. Never married, never sought luxuries, and never wished ill for anyone. The world of nature—trees, birds, animals, plants, that was his sanctuary. That was where he found his energy, his purpose.

I often felt he was loved more by Maa and Bapi. Maybe it was because of his frail health that they were more protective of him. My grandmother once explained this to me—that their love wasn’t unequal, just more cautious with him. But last year, when one after the other—first Maa, then Bapi, and then him—left this world, it hit me differently. It felt like he was their most cherished child. And somehow, I was okay with that.

He suffered a heatstroke last year, slipped into a coma, and never came back. My husband stood like a rock, doing everything humanly possible to care for him, to bring him back. But it felt like Bhai was done. As if, for the first and only time, he was angry with the world. And in his silence, he left.

Today, I missed him deeply. Last year, I was still numb, still trying to make sense of it all. This year, the absence settled in more sharply. I did cry, though not loudly, my eyes simply welled up as memories floated back. The silly things I did, the books we read, the times I pinched or slapped him for tattling about me and my friends.

Bhai, I’m sorry. Sorry if I didn’t always live up to your ideals and the simple, honest way you lived your life. But let me say this: you were, without doubt, Maa and Bapi’s most loved child. And rightly so. 

They took you away, to be with them, sooner ! 

I miss you. I miss your way of being here. Quiet, steady, kind.

Always watching. Always caring.

~I remain, your Dibhai

©®Madhumita

Tribute to my brother

Life is fleeting, constantly changing and nothing here in this world is permanent. Nothing lasts forever, including our own lives hence there is no point of ownership, for everything comes to an end and how hard you may try you cannot hold on to things and lives, including of your dear ones'.

A few personal losses made me realize the true nature of life and the futility of running after material things! 

Time just flies and it's like in a blink of an eyelid an entire era passes.

 

Bhai, my younger sibling passed away last June, and it's like so soon it has been an year of being without him. The day before we held the annual rituals for him, praying for his peaceful life in the other world for him. It's difficult to think of your younger sibling not being there and all the memories cloud up in the form of unshed tears in your eyes, for you need to be strong and show to your family above that you are managing okay! 

He was a simpleton. More loved or cared by our parents probably because of his health and also his simplicity. His world involved plants, birds and animals, who kept coming back to look for him for day after day after he left this world 🌎

How I wish I understood him more, spoke with him more and could spend some more time with him! 

Love and respect your relationships till they last. Hold no grudges, no anger because you never know when the other person leaves and you are left behind with regrets and sadness. 

What exists now may not be there tomorrow. 

Appreciate the present moment and understand the cyclical nature of life and death. One who comes has to go. You have to vacate the seat for someone else 😊

Live fully, love all, don't entertain any bitterness, focus on spiritual insights. 

And don't hold those emotions. Share that hug , embrace them tight , love easily and freely without inhibitions kunki kya pata kal ho naa ho ! Who knows if there will be a tomorrow!

Be at peace my dear brother. You were a gem I recognized much later!

©®Madhumita

 soar high, or 

step on the ground to explore 

the world, and more

do not hold back

or close the door

to all the freedom

that's there in store 

beyond the wavy seas, ashore 

©®Madhumita 

❤❤❤❤❤❤

#POEMS #poetry #poet #poetrylovers #poetstagram #WritingCommunity #motivational #motivationalspeaker #inspiration #lifeskillscounsellor #womenachievers #healer #lifecoach #writer #philanthropist #flyhigh #freedom

KOJAGORI LOKHKHI PUJO

 KOJAGORI LOKHKHI PUJO 

(Kojagari Lakshmi Puja)

Kojagari / Kojagori Lokhkhi pujo is perfomed and observed on the night of Ashwin Poornima( full moon) Also knowsn as Sharad poornima, a special worship of Goddess Lakshmi is performed on this day, and people from the East of India especially fast on this day. 

In this fast, there is a tradition of keeping vigil (Jagaran/ keep awake) at night. According to the Kojagara Vrat Story, Goddess Lakshmi visits the world on the night of Ashwin Purnima and She bestows wealth and prosperity on those devotees who are awake on this night (Ke jaage re -meaning who's awake, which later got distorted to Kojagari, giving the festival its name).

We, that's my maternal and paternal side of the family are Baangaals, i.e.we trace our roots to the eastern part of undivided Bengal. Of course it is a mixed bag of the east and the west Bengal now, but Kojagiri remains one big event in the family. Kojagori is celebrated on Sharad Poornima and the Goddess Lakshmi is worshipped in Bengali households; a way to hold on to our culture and traditions.

Maa, my mother never did Kojagiri Lakshmi Puja at home. She was told not to as she was the youngest daughter-in-law of the house. The puja was done and still happens at Bodo Maa's house, my father's late elder brother and his sister-in-law's house now. We do the puja at home, but many call their family pandit and purohit for worshipping Maa Lakshmi in a traditional way with mantras and yagnas.

Kojagari Lakshmi Puja at my Dida's(maternal grandmother's) place is celebrated in a big way. I learned all my puja vidhis(methods and rituals) observing my elders.

Maa's second brother had done a course in arts from the JJ School of Art. From my childhood my Lokhkhi Pujo started watching him draw huge alponas(artistic painted designs/motifs) at home using rice flour, chalk, and fuller's earth. He was wonderful at it. Later I would often act as his apprentice.

The worship part was on my eldest uncle, Bodo Mamu. I remember he would fast the entire day and worship the Goddess at night. The cooking was done by the ladies , my mamis(aunts) and grandmother.  Everybody was invited, friends, family, neighbours, office colleagues and the padar loke(the colony people and neighbours). The house would be decorated and lighted and music played on the sound system. It was like a huge public event.

Dida used to tell me that in their home they used to worship the shora, which was like a clay disc with engravings or painting of the Goddess. But later they started worshipping an idol and a handed down Lakshmi picture. 

With time things change and customs are tweaked.  Previously I have heard that people used to spend the Kojagari Poornima night,  chanting and singing hymns. At my maternal grandmother's musically inclined, creatively vibrant home, they used to sing and play various instruments throughout the night. With tea, snacks and the sllight nip in the air, it used to be an enjoyable event, etched in memories. At my paternal place, the puja is simpler and not that elaborate an event. 

I try to keep in touch with my culture and traditions by fasting and doing a small pooja at home, and also make kheer and keep at a place where it can soak in the moonlight. This is then savored as prashad the next day. It is said that this kheer eliminates diseases and also brings in calm and peace. 

May Maa Laxmi bring in peace, happiness and prosperity to your homes! 

©®Madhumita

Two Empty Eyes

Two empty eyes roam the darkness,

Are they in search of some happiness?

Cutting through the achromatic 

A fickle, vacillating mind traumatic.

©®Madhumita

#micropoetry 

The Revenge

 

I can read the language of your hands,

I know the definition of every emotion swimming in those eyes of yours,

I recognize every touch,

I can well decipher the embraces and the forceful hugs,

And the way you hold my hand, actually gives you away,

Don't play with me, do not even try,

For I am the fire !

I am speechless but not innocent,

Silent but not lifeless,

I award a closure to all your misdoings,

I roar, and rage , 

Of every blow of yours,

I am the revenge.

©®Madhumita