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The Mustard Alley

A Quest. Summons the mighty Indraduymna, his councillors, priests and warriors! to find the one who shines blue, deep in the greens, as he  had seen  in his dreams, in a darker cave, inform of an Idol! beneath an uni-peak prominence.
Among was Vidyapati, the chief priest's son, 'was asked to go in the eastern direction, To the land that was believed to be ruled by the savages! His journey was treacherous, overcoming many hurdles, and walking for two seasons, he could spot the unique mountain. which matched the Monarch's description.
The mountain was indeed mightier, As he proceeded in its indirection, it gradually revealed its vast form! Perplexed! "where he could spot the Cave?" Thought the young Brahman, ages might pass, just to give him a rarest of rare chance!
Lalita The morning rays, as if emanating from the peak's summit, scattered in all directions, as blessings of the Divine! touched the face of the tired inquisitor. still Sleepy on a tree branch, Vidyapati heard the sound of a …
Recent posts

Lottery to Death

When the term "Lottery" comes to mind it gives us an image of huge money earned out by chance without any significant effort. But the concept of "Lottery" is used not only for winning money,  wealth or privileges, it is also at times used for thing that has (no way) any relation to wining or anything!

Kumar, a jovial banker never knew that one such lucky draw will bring a yearlong nightmare to him that will redefine way of his living.
One can think of  it as a coincidence or be of any undefined phenomenon, the branch of the bank which Kumar had been transfer recently as Branch manager, had been witnessing, unnatural death of three of its employees in a span of just two years.
A clerk who had been working long for 15 years, died of choking his throat when he was having quick breakfast to the office. Another case was of the cashier who was all healthy and stout, fell sick of seasonal diarrhea and passed away for dehydration.  Where as an woman employee who had brie…

Mahalaya -The descent of the God as Mother!

With the blossoming of the white Kans, bringing coolness to both,  the wind and the mind, Oh! Mother, thou descent.
Remarking the semblance, to us! and to acknowledge  a sculpturist's art, So fierce! yet a beauty! Oh! Mother, thou take the Mortal form!
The sound of the Shell and the Cymbals, and The Hymn resonating in the ears! (Ya devi sarvabhuteshu Matri - Rupena Samsthita, Namas Tasyai, Namas Tasyai, Namas Tasyai Namoha! Namha!) Oh! goddess! thou who abides in all beings as mother...
Salutations to Thee!, Salutations to Thee!, Salutations to Thee!.....

A Grain for Life

A Grain for Life, was sown by the farmer's wife, in a muddy puddle, with handful of others, within a week, it grew into a Sapling, So tender and Green!
After  three Sundays and a day to spare, from the day, her rugged hand had laid, the farmer with his beloved!  uprooted the saplings, For to be transplanted! In a leveled land, which he had prepared The day before,  with a wooden plank hinged on  pair of Oxen.
They call it a Hill, With three others the grass grew! one day it flowered! As couple watched, A hope and A wish, getting realized! As flower bore the grains, like a mother is hopeful even in Pain!
Although the Farmer's scarecrow was there to Gaurd! few among its Golden Seeds, Became the Bird's Feed, The Rodents needs, Hopper's Heap for colder days, Leaving other untouched for The Farmer's Bran!
"A Golden Harvest" The Farmer Said "My Love, now I can Bring Ear Ring For your ears!"  "Toys for the Kids" "And Bells for The Oxen" "A coat for father…

GYANRANJAN - My Mindscapes

"GYANRANJAN" means enjoyment of knowledge. The blog "GYANRANJAN" is an honest and beautiful picture of my mindscapes and which I express in form of Stories, Poems, Memories and Thoughts.
I had a very strong influence of my village stay and many of my writings indicate an adolescence outlook of a teenager. There is never an exactness of facts and characters;  but are inspired to many with whom my teenage self came across.
Childhood and Teenage
Many of Raja Festival or event happened during that time Manajede  Penance on the Canal Bundh Cactus Flower Girl on the Swing
Memories of my Grand Mother - Sakunatala and Her Love

A Pumpkin Plant Kubera and Alka…

To Start a New Story

It is often difficult to start a new story, when the old one is preoccupied it even become so intense, that never let you read a new sentence as you keep pondering over the last one, you just went up to the end! It's a phase that never can be explained and you feel like an ignored character of a play, asked to perform on the stage, when the curtain falls and the lights are off. As the days pass by, the grip of the story get loosen, and you forget the names of the characters, you did not like most, And thus dawns the era of a new story. Every story has got an end, And this new one also has the same, No matter it's a Happy or Sad one, It marks its impression for long! A leave you a choice to Start...
or to not start again!

Lassiwala at the Bus Stop

It was 11.30 in the night, I was waiting for a bus, Crowds receding down, and street vendors packing for home. The lassiwala was still there. But Popcorn husband & Wife, packed off quite quick,  'believe, the haste was for the waiting kids.
The lassiwala, just an hour before, who ignored me altogether, looked at me with smiley eyes, thinking for a potential business, with hope to add a more, to the list of his days customers, offered me a glass of lassi, at only rupees five,  which he said is a very discounted price.
As I am no way felling, to drink something very chill, at this odd hours of night, denied the man with a smile. But he was determined to make business, and started persuading with his ways.  At the end he said, It's the best lassi known to those, who travel the Rajasthan Roadways bus. But I ignored.
Then came my bus, Some 45 mins late, As I walked to board the bus, The lassivala followed me,  And Said "Sir, its here for free" I smiled at him, Searched for rup…

A river flows in between

A river flows in between and I don't know how to swim. Intense is my desire, to pluck the fruit, round yellowish red, that bore on the tree at the other end. Here, though many such flower, fruit, and ripe, but my mouth water for the one on the other side. Wish, the river may turn dry,  as it does in the summer; but till then the fruit may fall, rot & decay. And I can never taste the difference. I am planning to build a raft,may be a boat. But...don't know how to row. There are many things to learn. I have to....But the time is short and the fruit is ripe. It may fall any time. As no option is open,  I am thinking to blame the river
"Why it flows in-between?"

Nominated IndiBlogger Award

The Indian Blogger Awards 2017