Adieu..

Its quite eerie to feel bad on the death of someone who is related to you in no way..not a friend, nor a foe, neither a chance acquaintance. Someone you just happen to know. And someone you had least thought of bothering you, even by means of death. Its really strange to feel remorse on someone bidding adieu whom you have always learnt to despise. And yet, after he departs, you hear your idols whom you have always listened to, speak good of the deceased. Mr. Subhas Chakravarty, one of the age-old veteran leaders of the 'yet'-ruling political party of my state ceased to exist this morning, amidst dreadful pain and suffering uncalled for. And it was till last Monday that the hymn woven by the Pied Piper thriving in him made people flock blindly to the meeting grounds in multitudes. A saviour of some, if not many, he supposedly had never expected public hearts pouring out on him on any event, belonging to the most severely criticised creed of Indian men. But nevertheless did he speak the truth outright, even on the face of his fellow partymen. Gray trousers and white formals with a Panama hat on top and buns of hair peeping through the sides- he has always looked the same in his trademark attire since the day I first saw him on my school grounds during annual sports some 7 years back, till today, when vignettes of his glorious era were being displayed incessantly in the news channels. A visualisation that, on a lighter note, have inspired many a go-as-you-like and mimic sessions. God does pay for all deeds, and so the people's leader has been saved of going through the agony of viewing the disappearance of his party's waning pallor. And time indeed can heal all that hurts...and the late leader's world will undisputably conquer the grief pervading over his loss. Dirty politics will follow. So will the practices of mud-slinging between some gray-haired naive country captains. And news channels will forever continue to lure behind TRPs by leafing through a person, even after death. But will the fissure created by this adieu ever get filled? Will the party ever manage to revive again under the eyes of such waning veteran leaders? I doubt.

His Masterpiece...

I had been wondering about the Creator. His fluid masterstrokes that bring about the essence of childhood, the fragrance in flowers, and all that is so profound in the name of poetry. But then, childhood wanes and fragrances fail to intoxicate. Even poetry falters to move. And the forgotten leftover is the abyss that seeks refuge under the dwelling of nature, onto the lap of the Creator. For it is Him, who thrives in the midst of drenched meadows and rainfed rivers. And trickles onto our land through the midrib of a leaf. Truly enough, if the world is the Creator's canvas, rains have been His masterpiece.