Shuvashree Chowdhury's Blog, page 20
July 23, 2019
Shonibarer Haat: Sonachuri Forest, Shanti Niketan
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A large clearing in the woods amidst tall trees –
over red earth on which they stand as sentinels,
under a canopy of heavy grey cloud, so full now;
stretched translucent, they seem ready to burst.
Locals from the tribal villages congregate here
revealing specialized skills on handmade craft –
saris, kurtas, striking bead jewellery and more,
spread on straw mats over a carpet of red earth.
Under several cane canopies, on raised platform
musicians regale you with tribal, baul renditions;
while the couple selling potato and onion fritters
tantalize with tangy forms from out of boiling oil.
Leaving the clearing, after indulging my senses,
my hands clutching five sets of ear and necklace:
Clouds descend over the tiny white, blue bridge
I cross, in contentedly heading to my home-stay.
Riding a Toto, soaking the exotic feel of the locale
through thick, low clouds overriding sunset’s lights –
shooting off sparks of fluorescence, I feel droplets:
then in a flash, whip lashing rain washes the road.
Through this torrential July rain ripping my soul –
I distinctly hear the drums – as if of a tribal dance,
beckoning me to celebrate life with unbridled joy:
with little pleasures, join in their feast of the soul.
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Aren’t they lovely! 
July 21, 2019
Chasing the Sunset: Over the river Kopai, Shantiniketan.
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The July sun was set to descend over the horizon,
to bury itself into the red earth of Shanti Niketan;
when I hired a Toto ride – to the river Kopai’s site
to view the sun’s immersion in its slender frame.
The smooth curvy road, through rustic landscape –
flanked sun’s tangerine hue riding trees, harvests:
A man driving bullocks arrested my speeding sight
just as you rein your errant dreams with a mission.
Sun’s orange glow raced dividing forest from sky
as one’s purpose determines failure from success:
I permitted the orange balloon to lead my mission –
keeping me racing to my goal – the Kopai at sunset.
At the bridge before my goal, in line with my vision,
the Kopai river looked lean as goals do on completion:
so I pursued on into finding a pink temple I stopped at,
where I was bestowed a sunset at its magnificent best.
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Chasing the Sunset: Over the river Kopai
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The July sun was set to descend over the horizon,
to bury itself into the red earth of Shanti Niketan;
when I hired a Toto ride – to the river Kopai’s site
to view the sun’s immersion in its slender frame.
The smooth curvy road, through rustic landscape –
flanked sun’s tangerine hue riding trees, harvests:
A man driving bullocks arrested my speeding sight
just as you rein your errant dreams with a mission.
Sun’s orange glow raced dividing forest from sky
as one’s purpose determines failure from success:
I permitted the orange balloon to lead my mission –
keeping me racing to my goal – the Kopai at sunset.
At the bridge, before my goal, in line with my vision,
the Kopai river looked lean as goals do on completion:
so I pursued on into finding a pink temple I stopped at,
where I was bestowed a sunset at its magnificent best.
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July 20, 2019
Almost every Cloud has a Silver lining
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Peach flowers gazed downwards shyly
through the green boughs dripping light –
fluorescent and bright, dazzling my sight;
stringing leaves in varied hued green light.
Dashes of lavender on the crust of a tree
that tenderly canopied the peach flowers –
were as if cajoling them on to a bridal bed
that was draped in well-manicured grass.
Large clouds seeming like parental masks
threatening to burst their shadowy forms –
on virginal flowers making love on a lawn:
by drowning their uninhibited true thirst.
As I stood watching this drama unfolding –
that nature laid out for me to partake in:
strong rays of sun as if arch lights, flashed,
on the bullying clouds, lining them in silver.
PS: This is in Shanti Niketan, at Rabindranath Tagore’s residence/museum…the play of clouds and sun was so fascinating, I wrote this spontaneously.
June 30, 2019
On Traditions: And ‘How to make Men out of Boys’
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“Tradition is a guide and not a jailer.”
— W. Somerset Maugham.
Dressed in a traditional Bengali Tangail silk sari, I’d like to remind you – that everything I write about especially in my books, is rooted deeply and anchored in our Indian culture and traditions.
But I allow the edgy kite strings of my thoughts, that I keep sharpening through varied reading, to add to my experiences and internal and external discourses – to fan my beliefs and values, fly out into open minded international spaces – onto a much broader spectrum of the universe; rather than let my views be restricted to the patriarchal and conservative mental rooftop of my own home country where I design my kites – however colourful, large and enchanting that I like them to be.
I like to write about the tradition of how ordinary men and women, in extraordinary circumstances, react to events which compel them to be heroic – perhaps out of line to their inherent natures. Also to inform and gently lead my readers mindset to an acceptance of diversity in ethnicity, culture, nationality, religion, gender and sexuality – into recognition of the profundity of the vagaries of human existences.
I would love to see my word-kites, shaped into varied human profiles, go out and play with international idea-kites, even challenge them; but finally perch like migratory birds on the readers minds in peace and harmony, as designed on my sari. 
June 27, 2019
Why I Write what I Write: My books
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“The world breaks everyone, and afterward, some are strong at the broken places.”
— Ernest Hemingway.
A life coach does for the rest of your life what a personal trainer does for your health and fitness: That’s what I attempt to do through anything that I write. As it’s what I know to do best, ever since I’ve been assigned corporate training and coaching roles as part of my earliest career assignments. Many of my early trainees today, are in senior and responsible roles themselves, as I can get a glimpse of it on facebook. What gives me the confidence today – is to recall and reflect under what circumstances these youngsters were handed over to my care, though I was barely much older myself: with the confidence from senior management – that only I could turn around these people. I was often given these people to coach, as a last resort – before showing them the door, for poor performance and attitudes that would spoil the work culture.
These experiences developed my strength, patience, and above all stamina in my ability to do so. And I’ve done this several times over and over with batches of employees in different companies. Also my mother was principal of a teacher’s training college, so I had grown up on practical examples of good coaching methods. She often took us with her, to practice teaching sessions for her students at various schools or colleges.
So then, obviously when I decided to write – as that’s a skill I knew I had even as a child, just like I could draw and paint; I chose to write about what I know best. That is, how to build self-esteem and confidence, as that’s the first step towards any level of achievement.
“He who believes is strong; he who doubts is weak. Strong convictions precede great actions.”
— Louisa May Alcott.
Personally I choose to do what I’m doing, as: “True strength lies in submission which permits one to dedicate his life, through devotion, to something beyond himself.” — Henry Miller.
Posted on my Facebook Book Page – Across Borders, on 26/06/19
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“Do not be dismayed by the brokenness of the world. All things break. And all things can be mended. Not with time as they say, but with intention. So go. Love intentionally, extravagantly, unconditionally. The broken world waits in darkness for the light that is you.” – L.R Knost.
June 15, 2019
Dad & I
Wishing you all a very happy Father’s Day…sharing with you a peek into my relationship with my Dad, the only real hero in my life!
My dad was one of the coolest, politest, friendliest and most charming gentlemen you’d ever meet, and my close friends would vouch for that. But if you messed with his daughters and he was aware…you would know how potent can be the rage of the coolest man. Just as “hell hath no fury as a woman scorned,” so too, hell hath no fury as a man whose daughter is scorned.
One day, when I was in college, I was home while my parents and sister were out. Our neighbourhood aunty – a senior IPS officer’s wife, sent a group of 4 cops to our house, in quest of a carpenter who was working at her house and ours. He had supposedly robbed her money and absconded. When my parents returned home that evening, on the stairs itself, I told dad how the lady had sent the cops, who troubled me…
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June 8, 2019
Chennai, a city of Intriguing Contrasts: Excerpts from my novel ‘Entwined Lives’
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Back in Chennai for a visit…having moved out last August, after calling the city home since 2006…It still seems like home!
Just had my first round of medu vadai, idli and filter coffee – delivered from Woodlands in T.Nagar.
May 25, 2019
‘Art of Enjoying every Moment’: The Ganges boat ride, in Banaras.
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After a city tour, also Ashoka Pillar, Thai temple, Stupa at Sarnath,
to which we added the Banaras Hindu University’s campus –
including the new Vishwanath temple – that students frequent:
we reached the Ganges at Assi Ghat, after the arati had commenced.
A number of young women rushed to us – as a swarm of locusts;
buzzing around – into making us buy their last leaf boats with diyas
of candle – that lit, along with flowers and incense are floated –
by those seeking to make a solemn wish, or purely in reverence.
After offerings to Ganges, we hired a motorboat for a long ride –
which would be tough on a rowboat in high tide – at this time:
to go past the famed ghats lining Banaras – ending its enhanced facade –
painting an exquisite sight over the canvas of balmy dimming sky.
Glittering silhouettes of ghats, distinct in architectural constructs –
breezed by as if in a motion picture we might be viewing from our car,
in an amphitheatre or at a drive-in open-air theatre complex:
titles extoled on the horizon, rousing images of the ghat’s heritages.
A jarring motor sound disrupted the quiet, barring conversation,
over that insects hounded us – attacking our faces, hands and neck:
yet they couldn’t diminish the exquisiteness and bliss of these flashes –
as we focused on relishing every moment – in spite of life’s deterrents.
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The Banaras Hindu University’s front facade…from our car, as we’re leaving.
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The floating diya…
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May 19, 2019
A Sublime Dance
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Soft sunrise, as if stage spotlights
shining through a ballet of cotton clouds,
swathed waves of hills as if props
on a stage – with the blue backdrop of sky:
even as the silver lined Kanchenjunga
like a blonde sensuous young woman –
wearing a diamond necklace;
danced in the tender chilly breeze,
with my sight caught in the light
of her earrings and eternity bangles –
infusing in me – her forest fragrance.
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