World

The Broken Nest and Other Stories by Rabindranath Tagore

Coverage

A painting by Rabindranath Tagore.
[Source- V&A Museum]

The Broken Nest  

Charu and Amal didn’t understand their heart’s secret, but how could it be that their own heart hid something from them, well it did. Maybe, Charu’s binoculars didn’t work properly.

And Mr. Bhupati, a lost editor, busy sketching the details of a busy world, had no time for keeping secrets.

Why did they give their secrets to Time for safekeeping?

Time always travels light, thus, it naturally left their secrets behind, visible for them all to see, casting a spell. The spell didn’t kill, it broke hearts.  


The Ghat’s Tale  

Vasant… Grishm… Varsha… Sharad… Hemant… Shishir…   Six seasons talked to the Ghat near the Ganga River. The seasons brought green moss at times and dry leaves at others, dipping the Ghat into sunlight and rain shower with love, the seasons spoke less, but heard sincerely.

What did the Ghat tell them? It shared stories… yours and mine.  


Notebook  

Let her be, why torment her, why read her notebook without her consent? She is little, just a girl, a child bride, she has left her world behind, she has carried some in her notebook.  


Postmaster  

Love is all-powerful and yet it blooms slowly in every soul, taking time for the realisation to sink in and sync with it completely.

A shade of love wrote a letter to the Postmaster who, tricked by mind, read it too late. Oh! That feeling…  


A happy poet.
[Source- Poetry Foundation]

The Broken Nest is a novella, while the other three are short stories; each one holds a complete universe and touches you deeply.

Rabindranath Tagore beautifully writes in the language of love, his characters always express something which stays usually hidden within a heart, sidelined by the talkative world.

Every story of his is like a time machine, it unfolds the past keeping it alive and magical at the same time.

The birds sing sweetest of songs in his stories, the earth dances the best to his tunes, the colour red blushes flamboyantly in his paintings and tears take time to dry up when he narrates.

Know his work and you will know.


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Jeremiah’s Roomie Ferdinand Forgot Two Simple Things

Flash Fiction
Jeremiah wrote in the letter that Ferdinand must continue his journey across the five oceans, dipping when the moon rises and shinning when the tempest calls, stopping to explore the alien lands and fleeing if he sees a woman with snakes for hair or the trolls.
 
Ferdinand understood not much for he was not travelling to any place and was rather at home, sick and jaded.
 
Jeremiah further expressed his own adventure of a morning walk through the deep dark forest when he met a king cobra who nattered about this and that, about the tales of the netherworld and of a future when the sky will fall down; who got to the point only at last with a fang-full smile and asked him to bring all the eggs of the cuckoo bird that lived nearby.
 
Ferdinand, confused, spoke aloud, “But Jeremiah goes to that park near the colony for morning walks…”
 
Jeremiah then mentioned in capital letters the highlights of THIS WORLD –
 
1) The raven flew away and the raven came back, we talked, ate and enquired, ‘who can change the track?’
 
2) Maria knows that Keith knows that Jenny doesn’t know, and now we also know.
 
3) For a few days we hosted the Police at the colony, ha ha!
 
Ferdinand sat straight, scratched his head, and tried calling Jeremiah – “the call cannot be completed.”
 
Jeremiah signed off his letter with the words – flying to Alpha Centauri, good you left your swimming goggles, peace-out mate.
 
Ferdinand got up, worried, stood numb holding that letter in his hand for a few seconds, then haphazardly packed his bag and left the house. Bang!
 
He closed the door behind him, not replying to his mother’s alarmed shout, he dashed out.
 
 
Ferdinand forgot that Jeremiah is a writer, a writer by choice, profession, and living standards.
 
He also forgot his keys to the flat.
 
Now no one would be there to welcome him back in the city as Jeremiah was flying to Alpha Centauri.
 
Ssh! Writer at work!
Image by Cdd20 from Pixabay.

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Transient Permanence

Spirituality

Anicca (Impermanence).

That the dark clouds will pour heavily and ceaselessly, that the rainbow will nurture joyous moments, that a true feeling is there to stay forever, but only to forsake rudely with lessons to accept and time as a remedy, making a revelation that such is life, does this change what is transient into eternal?  

Incessant thoughts enjoying the make-believe forget what is real and adhere to what is smooth and comforting and familiar and dear and satisfying.  

Transience is a reality, but is this the reason for its permanence?

The world says a yes, the individual says a no.

This fleeting life knows the truth. It lives and dies to prove it.

*

Buddha in meditation forever.
Image from Pixabay.

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There’s A Zebra Who Calls Me Kevin

Literary Nonsense
Hello Kevin!
 
You refuse to follow the crowd and you avowedly disregard the art of punditry, the rancour and anger veiled, disappears when you see it with your inner eye, the contradictions choose not an easy hyperbolic, but a converging simple route and the paradoxes recognise their nature whenever you sit in absolute bliss, and renunciation takes you from the known to unknown, inexplicable, irrefragable, immutable.
 
 
Kevin, I think you can, but you will not act directly. Otherwise, what is the point of my journey?
 
Farewell Kevin. I’ll memorise what you said to me that day, ‘it is a world of mutual help and struggle’. And in my world, I am to engage myself totally.
 
 
The Zebra who calls me Kevin looks just like this one.
Image by Erich Röthlisberger from Pixabay

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