Deep sea

Home Sweet Home                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    Recently I was quite busy but then a phone call came from my mother after about eight months next day followed by  a call  from my elder brother and a few days later a call from my younger brother . I understand mother is remembering her prodigal son ...I have to go home .Hurriedly I tried to finish my job in hand .I increased my working hours till mid night .Also I am proud of the fact that some young   professionals in their early twenties are ever willing to work hard even in odd hours .                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            I arranged my trip to Kolkata , my old man's adopted home town , his third in fact , coinciding    with a meeting on the way . Evening time after the meeting is over I started for Kolkata by train .Next day     evening    I reached Sealdah station [Kolkata] from there I catch another local train and then a cycle rickshaw   to reach my final destination my home sweet home .                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            When I opened the gate I heard a child voice called out ' Father, father uncle is coming' . I pressed the calling bell my father opened the door towed by his four years old grandson , standing behind my mother , younger brother and his wife .                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 My father always been a source of inspiration for me . Though visibly we are never in a good term and most of the time even any small thing agree to disagree .        Having said this I also admit that I never argue with him  in public , my disagreement with him is our personal matter and we enjoy it . Today as time passes by and I am also becoming older I sometimes wonder how my father then supported a much larger family consisting of uncles , aunts , and we brothers .Provided every body good education ,food and clothing .Being victim of partition rootless , penny less I in my childhood days    never heard him grumbling .What I remember of him on holidays reciting poems and on special days chanting hymns from Gita or   Chandi . Today when I look at his white bearded face I find him mellowed with time both his hands stretched out sparkling eyes eager to meet his son .                 

Labor of love

Some years ago as one of my friend put it this way that , a man works for himself only for sometime and after that he work for love , love for family and children.

 Working in the stone quarry with his son playing.

Few days ago I went to a village I saw mostly women and some men working in the field tending vegetables. In the midst of bountiful nature they look like , they are also part of the nature.Other activity in the village sand stone quarry.Men and women working relentlessly with hammer and chisel breaking boulders to produce stone chips.They work day in and day out just for sustenance.But yet they are all smile .They even invited me for lunch , hungry as I was, a simple menu of local rice , meshed potatoes ,egg fry, chilly pickle , cucumber and tomato salad , it tasted heavenly.I have seen people are happy when they work for love for their family and children . Attending their ailing parents and even sharing food with a stranger like me. Their innocence striking, smile infectious. They all know at the end of days hard work they will be with their families. Pain and tiredness vanish like magic only joy and happiness remain. Labor of love.

Bountiful nature

The Sylhet Connection

 My father originally hail from Sachayani,a small village in the Sylhet district of present day Bangladesh.Later my grandfather came to Sunamganj.My father completed his high school from Sunamganj govt school. Sunamganj ,a picturesque  small town on the foothills of khasi hills.On the bank of Surma river & also many a haor wet land enhance the beauty of the place.My father now in his early nineties becomes emotional when he recollects his childhood momories about his school, Sunamganj, its rivers ,its wet lands & of course fish. He had had his best fish dishes in Sunamganj only!

Sunamganj govt school

Jagannathpur   Lake

The Journey Begins

I live in Shillong, a beautiful pine city. Shillong is also capital of Meghalaya meaning  'abode of cloud'.Shillong is famous for its natural beauty .Pine forest,water falls,lakes are dotted around shillong.

Live roots bridge

 Umium lake

The monoliths