Daily Prompt : Suddenly

In response to prompt : Suddenly

Our Unexpected Guest!

One morning suddenly I heard a knock on our door, I wondered who was knocking the door, this early, I opened the door, to my surprise I found my aunt with her five kids smiling at me. I tried to understand how could she come so fast from India.

Then my sixth sense alerted me it took her as much time to arrive at our doorstep as will someone else. What happened was they made their decision to come, but failed to let us know that they’re coming. A courteous family wouldn’t do this.

But my aunt thought : I’m going to visit my sister’s place, I don’t have to let her know in advance?

The problem was my mom was out of town, I was in the house with my younger siblings and older brother, who was busy with his newly married wife.

I was responsible for cooking, and feeding my siblings. It was a chore thrust upon me. At 15 it was a huge responsibility for me. Adding another family of five kids was not something I asked for.

I remember I spent all  my waking  time catering to the needs of my siblings and on top of that an aunt who perhaps had no idea about cooking for a family. She liked eating and sitting on the bed and ordering her eldest one.

She unexpectedly arrived and took it for granted that I must be ready ‘at her beck and call.’

I compared her with my mom, she was not like my other, in fact she was the exact opposite, she was lazy, all she did was sit around and make others run around keeping her happy.

Each morning I prayed for my mom to come  home, I was tired of looking after her lazy sister and family.

When mom finally came back, I was happy to hand over the kitchen back to her!

…………………………. 🙂

Daily Prompt: Advantage of foresight

You’ve been granted the power to predict the future! The catch__ each time you use your power, it costs you one day(as in you’ll live one day less). How would you use this power, if at all?

If I use this unbelievable power that I’m granted to predict the future, I will live one day less is the catch.

My question whose future am I supposed to predict. If it is the world, there is not much to predict, everything is pretty obvious, the Americans will elect a new president. Canadians are getting ready to perhaps elect a new prime minister, probably not from the same party.

India and Pakistan are not sure who deserves to have Kashmir added to their country. This controversy will continue for a very long time.

Bangladesh is not sure how long their PM will last.

The stock market will go up and down for ever.

The prices of food will continue to rise.

Global warming will continue to mess up our weather.These are not predictions these are some hardcore facts. I’ve only written what is true, so I shall not lose any day of my life,I hope.  🙂

…………………………………….. 🙂

 

365 writing prompt: Evasive action

What’s the most significant secret you’ve ever kept? Did the truth ever come out?

As far as I know, I do not keep secrets, and there was no incidence of me keeping a secret significant or otherwise. Therefore the possibility of coming out does not exist.

My husband always told me I must never give my recipes to anyone, that way they can only taste my food when they visit me.

I remember one of my neighbors from India wanted my recipe for a very famous dessert we have in Bangladesh. I went to her house prepared the dessert for her while she was watching. She could not make it the way I did,this is what she told me.

I know for a fact it does not matter if I give my so called secret recipes, they are unable to duplicate it , this is true with everyone not just me. There is some kind of magic in our hands we all have, even with the same recipe, ingredients and what have you, it does not taste the same.

The question is, does theirs taste better? No, it doesn’t even taste the same. This is what they tell me.

………………………………… 🙂

DP Daily Prompt: Play Lexicographer

 

Create a new word and explain its meaning and etymology.

USIBEAP: it’s a mixture of  languages spoken by people from Iran, Bengal, Punjab, Arabia, and Spain and Uttar Pradesh(India).

The letter U stands for Urdu : Aapka naam kia hai? What is your name? It’s a language spoken in Uttar Pradesh(India).

S represents Spain: Language is Espanol:Como se llama Usted? What is your name?Me llamo Ranu, my name is Ranu.

I for Iran: Language is Farsi: agar firdaus bar roo e jannat toh  hami ast , toh hami ast. If there is a  paradise on earth it’s here,it’s here.( these words were spoken by a poet, when he first visited Kashmir).

B is for Bengali: language spoken in east and west Bengal: Aami ki korbo? What will I do?

E represents all the English speaking countries, e.g., I wish this prompt was not so complicated!

A is for Arabic: The language of the Quran, Insha Allah: God willing.

P is for Punjab: Language spoken in East and West Punjab: Tussi kitthe jaanday o: Where are you going?

https://sabethville.wordpress.com/2015/01/28/dp-daily-prompt-7/

DP Daily Prompts: Buyers, Beware?

The year is 2214, and your computer’s dusty hard drive has just resurfaced at an antique store. Write a note to the curious buyer explaining what he or she will find there.

Dear Buyer,

I’m pleased to know you’re curious about my antique computer. The hard drive of my antique machine though dusty works like a charm.I have stored a lot of interesting posts in it. It ranges from our famous poet’s song lyrics, translated by me and the video of the songs, if you’re not quite convinced, let me try to assure you about  the fabulous posts I’ve written of some of the  beautiful mosques in India, Pakistan and the middle east.

Those buildings are worth reading about.

I’ve written a few poems  and   prompts prepared by our famous WordPress.Please do not waste another minute,just grab the machine before someone else does!

k: https://sabethville.wordpress.com/2014/11/03/dp-daily-prompts-buyers-beware/

Book Review written and Posted by Ranu

Yesterday I was able to finish reading the book, “A Long Way Home”.  The author is Saroo Brierley. It’s published by the Penguin Group.

The author was thirty years old when he wrote the book. He has very vividly described the trials he faced as a child. It’s hard to imagine a five year old boy remembering early years of his life in such great detail.

While reading the book I felt he was an extraordinary boy, he looked after his year and a half old sister, while his mother went away to work in an unknown place for days, so she could provide food for her family of five, three sons and a daughter.

He was left alone most of the time with his sister, while his brothers also looked for work.

Saroo the main character was always curious to know where his brothers go everyday. He managed to convince his brother to take him. This was the beginning of the little boy’s arduous journey,  who came close to death a few times but was  saved by unknown strangers.

His older brother had told him to stay where he left him, but Saroo somehow moved from there and ended up in strange  places and was unable to find his home, he did not know the name of the place where he lived, tried his best to describe it to strangers who were busy with their own life and paid no heed to a poor little boy.

Eventually he was lucky an Australian couple adopted him. he had never seen anything good in his life before this, he was surrounded by poverty, coming to Australia exposed him to a life he had never known, he actually could have a room where he could sleep and get meals without asking for it.

All the comfort and good life did not stop him from thinking about his brothers and his sister and mother. Every day he reminded himself about his family he longed to meet. He did not want to forget them and the place he came from. It’s as if he captured the memory of his five years in India, safely tucked away in a corner of his mind, his determination to remember his family was a priority.

His adoptive parents took good care of him fed him clothed him and gave him the opportunity to go to school. He loved them and did not mention the family he left behind, because he did not want to offend them.

He grew up and soon was able to use a computer, he used it to locate the place he came from, it took years to be successful, he did not give up, in the end he was united with his family

I was amazed to read how dedicated he was. When he left India he was only five years old, to be able to find his family after twenty five years is nothing short of a miracle!

https://sabethville.wordpress.com/2014/08/06/book-review-posted-by-ranu

DP Daily Prompt: Dream Teacher

You can  choose any person from history to teach you any topic you want, who’s your teacher, and what do they teach you?

I would like Rabindranath Tagore to be my teacher, my topic is,”Nationalism”. My question to him is why is there a problem of nationalism in India?

Tagore says, Our problem in India is not political.It is social.He says in Europe, people have racial unity from the beginning, and where natural resources were insufficient for the inhabitants, the civilization has naturally taken the character of political and commercial aggressiveness. In former days they organized and plundered, in the present age the same spirit continues—and they organize and exploit the whole world.

From the beginnings of history ,India has had her own problem constantly before her–it is the race problem.

In spite of our great difficulty,Tagore says, India has done something, she has tried to make an adjustment of races,to acknowledge the real differences between them where these exist,and yet seek for some basis of unity.This basis has come through our saints,like Nanak,Kabir,Chaitanya and others, preaching one God to all the races of India.

Tagore says,those of us in India who have come under the delusion that mere political freedom will make us free have accepted their lessons from the west as the gospel truth and lost their faith in humanity.We must remember whatever weakness we cherish in our society will become the source of danger in politics, he further says the basis of nationalism is wanting. The very people who are upholding these ideals are the most conservative in their social practice.

Permalink: https://sabethville.wordpress.com/2014/06/06/

 

INSULT——-Rabindranath Tagore

English: Rabindranath Tagore Русский: Рабиндранат Тагор (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

This poem was written by Tagore at the time of India’s darkest days. All the well-known poets and politicians and writers tried to awaken the people’s sentiment. Tagore’s poem is written in Bengali,I have tried to translate it into English to the best of my ability.

“Insult”

O my unfortunate country, those whom you have insulted are not the only ones who deserve your contempt

all the human beings in India should be equally blamed for this tragedy.

Those whom you have deprived of their right and their status as humans,

waited for you to get some recognition but you ignored them,

the contempt they received from you should be shared equally by all the Indians.

You have kept the people away from you

In doing so you took away their belief in almighty God.

They were faced with the wrath of God and the impending famine

and the realization that whatever meagre food and drink, they have will have to be shared equally with everyone.

The condemnation therefore will have to be shared equally by everyone.

Where you pushed them away from you

you managed to sacrifice their strength by your neglect.

Trampled and kicked they were tossed away by the dust__

You have to come down to that level,otherwise there is no hope of retrieving them.

You will have to share this humiliation with them.

Those whom you push down will tie you down also,

those whom you have kept at the back will pull you back.

The ones you have unwittingly hidden away

are sacrificing your well-being and creating a wide distance from you.

You will have to remember all of India deserves the blame for this situation.

For hundreds of years they have carried the weight of disrespect,

you still don’t show your appreciation.

Can’t you see I lower my head for this contempt

it has completely destroyed their confidence and faith in the divine power.

You should also share the insult with everyone.

Don’t you see the angel of death is waiting__

It has stamped a curse on the pride of your nation.

Even now if you fail to call them, it is time for you to stay away,

Bind yourself all over with your anger__

the funeral pyre will burn everyone with same intensity.

Poetry of Tagore Translated by Ranu

English: This the picture of a collection of 108 temple of hindu god “Shiv” in Burdwan(Westbengal,India) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

English: This is the famous gate at the centre of Burdwan(West Bengal,India) town.This gate was made by Burdwan Maharaja to welcome Lord Curzon. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I have translated Tagore’s poem on mother.I am aiming to translate some more of his poems into English.The following is about the faithful servant.

“My Faithful servant”

His unattractive face and lack of consciousness– makes my wife believe that,

Whatever is lost in the house, she says,Keshto is the thief.

At every step of the way standing or sitting,he hears but pretends not to–

He gets more abuse than his wages, still he doesn’t learn.

I need him so much,I scream , “Keshta”—

However much I hurry,I cannot hear him,I look for him everywhere.

When he is given three things he keeps one,and is unaware where the rest are—-

If he is given one thing he brings three in seconds and doesn’t know where they came from.

He takes a nap in the  morning and afternoon—

In the middle of all the noise I call him ” stupid,naughty, idiot”

My anger gets worse when I see him standing by the door laughing;

Even then I find it hard to get rid of him ,he is with me for such a long time.

My spouse with a very angry face tells me,’I cannot bear this any more—

I am leaving all your possessions, you can stay with your Keshta;’

He doesn’t know how to take care of the things, my things have disappeared.

where are  they gone—I am continuously spending  money to replace them.

When he goes for shopping it is hard to trace him all day;( I think in my mind)

how  hard, can it be to get a servant to replace Keshta!

with this thought in my mind I run and hold his hair and bring him—;’

I tell him,You scoundrel you leave  today,I am getting rid of you;’

He leaves slowly, I think my responsibility is over; next day I wake up and see

he is standing with the ‘Hukka’ that silly man;

With a quiet face and devoid of sadness, a picture of a Simpleton

I try to let him go but I cannot,what can I do,he is my faithful servant.

That year I made some money from brokerage.

I decided to go to Brindabon for pilgrimage;

My wife wanted to go, I tried to make her understand—

A husbands good deed is considered a wife’s good deed also,otherwise it increases the expenditure.

I kept the expenses low, I collected my things and put them in a bag

My wife got everything ready,she cried and said,

‘in a strange land with Keshta you will suffer a lot.’

I said ,’Oh God Nibaron will go with us.’

We reached Burdwan by train, after getting off,

a very calm Krishnakanto brought my Hukka,where is Keshta?

Such audacity of his ,how much can I tolerate daily?

No matter how much I blame him I find him happy, my faithful servant.

I got off at Sridham; and found on the south,left,back and front all

the ruffians,within seconds caught my throat. They wanted to go with me,

Six or seven of us joined together like very good friends we

stayed in a home; It felt that with hope and comfort our days will be spent happily,then came the disease small pox,

where is Brojobala,Bonomala, Bonomali ,Hori I asked?

They all left when they heard small pox. I am dying of this disease.

I am alone in a room, the small pox has covered all of my body.

I call every day in my pathetic voice, Keshto come closer to me,

After all these days in a strange land,I am going to die.’

I look at his face my heart is filled with love,he is such a close friend—

Everyday he stood by me,my faithful servant Keshto,

English: This is the inside view of the palace of Burdwan Maharaja at Burdwan(West Bengal,India). (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

He gave me water,asked me how I was,he put my hand on his forehead,

He stood quietly,without any sleep or food.

He told me repeatedly,master,do not worry,listen—

you will go back home,you will be able to see my,’Ma Mistress again.’

After I got better,he caught fever;

He took my terrible disease on his body.

He was unconscious for two days,his digestive system failed—

All the times I wanted to get rid of him,he wouldn’t go; and when I realized I wanted him to stay,he was gone.

I completed pilgrimage and came home after several days.

Today I no longer have my faithful servant —my loyal friend Keshta.

‘

English: Ink-on-paper painting by Rabindranath Tagore (undated). (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Comilla My Hometown

Maharaja (Photo credit: Nina Klein)

Kazi Nazrul Islam, the revolutionary Bengali Muslim who is now the National Poet of Bangladesh (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

English: Comilla Bypass. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Comilla Cadet College (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

English: Comilla Medical College (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

English: Comilla Maynamoti Bihar বাংলা: কুমিল্লা ময়নামতি বিহার (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Comilla Victoria College academic building (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

English: Comilla Maynamoti Bihar (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Susan,Alphie and Gepetto,before I begin today,I would like to share a poem written by my favourite poet,Rabindranath Tagore.He has written numerous poems in his lifetime. My mind tells me to pick this one.

Closed Path

I thought my voyage had come to its end

at the last limit of my power,—-that path before me was closed.

that provisions were exhausted

and the time has come to take shelter in a silent obscurity.

But I find that thy will knows no end in me.

And when old words die out on the tongue.

new melodies break forth from the heart

And where the old tracks are lost,

new country is revealed with wonders.     Rabindranath Tagore

I would like to take you back to the year 1905.A communal tension spread when a Muslim was shot during the partition of Bengal in 1905.On 21st November 1921. Kazi Nazrul Islam , a very famous poet of Bengal composed patriotic songs and tried to awaken the people of the town to protest the visit of  Prince of Wales in India.There were other major incidences,when a sizable number of people were killed.There is nothing strange about that. What we  the citizens of the 21st century, must try to stop wars,they just bring out the evil nature of human beings.

Comilla covers a total area of 11.47 square kilometers.It is bounded by Burchiganj and Tripura on the North,Laksham and Chauddagram  on the south, and Barura on the west.The major rivers that pass through Comilla are Gumti and Little Feni.Comilla is a hub of road communication for the eastern part of Bangladesh.One of the oldest highways of the Indian sub-continent ,the Grand Trunk road passes through the city.At present the most important Dhaka-Chittagong highway by-passes the city from the cantonment to Podua Bazaar.

“Gepetto,there are a lot of names which will sound strange to you,I would like you to make a note of them.When you are back in school you can give your friends a quiz,see how many of them they can pronounce.It will be a good exercise for the brain.” Gepetto was on his feet searching for his notebook, “What a neat idea,he thought.”

Tourism

Comilla has a number of tourist attractions.There are various archaeological relics discovered in the district.They are preserved in the Mainamati museum.There is a red soil rock ,it is named Lalmai Pahar.It has an ancient Chandi temple on the summit.Another temple, the Jagannath temple built by Maharaja of Tripura is a tourist attraction as well.

My father told my mother that we should settle in Comilla.My Mom liked the idea,her home in the village was near it.  My brother Shams bought a house.We moved into the house from our Grandpa’s home in the village.My younger siblings went to ,”Our Lady of Fatima Convent School.” Two of my brothers went to Comilla Zilla School. It was a very good school.The headmaster told me,my father was a student of this school as well. When I gave him a puzzled look.He described my father ‘wasn’t he tall and thin’.I knew then he was right.

Comilla was a small and quiet town when we lived there.at that time they had a few schools and two colleges. Now there are a lot more people.And they have a lot of schools and colleges and universities.When I went for a visit,I was surprised to see how much it is developed.

For me it was fun to be there even if it was for a short while.I remembered going to college near my home.I could hear my professor telling us about Civics.I grew up in a large family,making fun of people was what we thrived on.Karim Sir would pick up his book,he wore a large  round pair of glasses, get up on the platform to go to his desk and would look from side to side making sure we were not up to any kind of mischief. Then his daily routine would start, Civics from the Western point of view there was always a very loud emphasis on the words,  “western point.” ,then I had the Urdu Professor,who used his eyes not his tongue, to speak. I would come home and act it out.My mom would be furious,she said,” bad tameez,you should respect your teachers.” Now at my age ,sixteen will not come again,when I laughed and joked about my Profs.who certainly taught me what I know. I sometimes go back to my childhood to make sure everyone including Gepetto knows how evil I can be.

Okay my good friends Gepetto looks tired,Susan wants to learn more about my little town, Alphie hasn’t opened his mouth yet,I am afraid to ask.It has been quite a pleasant ride.We thank God and all His supreme creation for putting up with me,Ranu the guide extraordinaire and her little friends,Alphie,Susan and Gepetto,So long,till we meet again!

Comilla (Photo credit: Wikipedia)