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Graphite on Paper( Her eyes… )

“I looked into her eyes and saw the whole universe engaged therein, begging for a chance to be imprisoned within them… and I gradually realized that sometimes it is better to leave things as it is…”

Graphite on Paper Art by : Abhisek Pattnaik

Charcoal on Paper (Our little secrets)

“For what now remains is only a fraction of what used to be. For our secrets seem like some myth and the characters in it like someone who I used to know long long ago. The little tender secrets of ours, best kept hidden deep within our hearts all these years, doomed only to be lost and forgotten for good, once our time comes…”

Charcoal on paper art by : Abhisek Pattnaik

Kintsugi : A chapter from my life.

Kintsugi : the Japanese art of fixing broken pottery with lacquer dusted or mixed with powdered gold, silver. As a philosophy, it means embracing the flawed or imperfect.

I had read this story once.

[There once was a little boy who had a bad temper. His father gave him a bag of nails and told him that every time he lost his temper, he must hammer a nail into the back of the fence. The first day the boy had driven 37 nails into the fence. Over the next few weeks, as he learned to control his anger, the number of nails hammered daily gradually dwindled down. He discovered it was easier to hold his temper than to drive those nails into the fence.
Finally the day came when the boy didn’t lose his temper at all. He told his father about it and the father suggested that the boy now pull out one nail for each day that he was able to hold his temper. The days passed and the young boy was finally able to tell his father that all the nails were gone.
The father took his son by the hand and led him to the fence. He said, “You have done well, my son, but look at the holes in the fence. The fence will never be the same. When you say things in anger, they leave a scar just like this one. You can put a knife in a man and draw it out. It won’t matter how many times you say I’m sorry, the wound is still there.”]

I had found it very moving having seen this evolution in myself personally; though at the cost of some scars. I had developed this bad temper during my adolescent years. Maybe it was the hormones or the lack of education and understanding or a mix of both. But it resulted in passing on my tantrums to others; mostly my mother and my sister, who had loved me dearly all my life and I was certain that they won’t ever retaliate back about it. And the reasons used to be very flimsy; sometimes for non acceptance of my choice, say of a TV to be bought or simply the hot humid weather; they varied with given time and space. But mostly it was to do with my narrow understanding of authority/ego someway or other, as I remember it.

Interestingly, if you google ‘Anger’, the first post that pops up explains it as one of the basic human emotions as elemental as happiness, sadness, anxiety or disgust; necessary for human SURVIVAL. Guess I had honed it calculatingly for my ego satisfaction in a sustainable fashion, when I had chosen my mother and sister as the receivers. But it all changed one particular afternoon and I think I should share this here.

It was summer of 2006; I had appeared for tenth board exams a couple of months back and was awaiting the result. We had gone out for some reason that I don’t remember; me, Didi(elder sister) and Maa. It was a particularly hot day and the high humidity was making it all worse for me. But the trip was short and we returned back home early; maybe it was one of didi‘s doctors appointments. I entered my room only to find the broken Air conditioner; the trigger that I needed for my fit of anger to come out. Hence started the slamming of doors, followed by raising of voices complaining anything and everything that was wrong with my family. A few more slamming of doors and a few kicks to the sofa later I found myself confronted by my didi.
“Why are you shouting? What are you acting like this!?”
And my rage reached its peak as I simply pushed her aside to slam a few more doors accompanied by a few more bellowed sentences.
‘Thud…’ My mother came running from the kitchen welling.
“What have you done? Oh, God! Reeka, are you alright?”
Only then did I realize that my push was hard enough to make her fall over her wrist and crack it. I stood numb there seeing all this commotion as my mother lifted her up and took her to the hospital.
They came back some thirty odd minutes later. My sister had plastered her right hand. I was still in a state of shock to accept the severity of my actions. A few minutes later I found her sitting in the living room by the aquarium. I went and sat next to her. A few seconds of shame later I said, “Didi, I’m sorry”, as my words whispered by the end, weighed down by the shame. She turned towards me and held my hand in hers and gave me a peck on my cheek.
“I love you,” she said.
No advice, no warning, no deliberation: nothing. A simple “I love you”, in exchange for her fractured wrist.
I’m not sure what I felt in those few minutes and what changes it brought to me. The weather continued to be the same; the decisions in house continued to be taken in the same fashion; the family continued to be members of four; but what changed was the absence of temper that I used to experience. I don’t recall ever getting angry after that.

I was lucky enough to have them; my family who kept on giving me chances. Not everyone is…
“Thank you Didi for embracing this flawed individual.”

Hope this chapter of my past helps you avoid your fits of flow of anger on your near and dear ones. Stay healthy and spread happiness. Love.

Flight of a dragonfly

Written by : Abhisek Pattnaik
image Courtesy : Shutterstock.com

Chiku never liked his afternoon naps. But Lakshmi, his mother, made sure that he doesn’t leave his bed after lunch. She had her own reasons for this of course. After a toil with household chores that stretches from taking shower and fetching water from the village tube-well before the sun rises to eating lunch after everyone else is taken care of; she deserved a good long sound nap after lunch. But if Chiku is up playing, she of course can’t even have this small luxury in her life. Hence, she made sure that Chiku also sleeps post his lunch, making it a routine for him. But Chiku always managed to sneak past her despite her regular warnings. Usually the signal to leave the bed comes in the form of light snores from Lakshmi. He loved spending time playing with his ball or car or doing something fidgety or simply he would search the shelves in the TV room to find any piece of metal or plastic good enough to give flight to his imaginations.

This was like any other day. After the light snores started coming from Lakshmi, Chiku snuck out of the bedroom and started looking for his ball. He had persuaded Lakshmi last month to buy it from the ‘harek mal bhaiya’ (the man who visits each house in the village with his little mobile shop on his cycle) while Lakshmi was buying some ‘bindis’ for herself.
“Maybe Maa hid it somewhere”, he thought.
Then he looked up for his car and failed to find that either he thought of venturing into the top shelf of the TV room. He climbed up on the armrest of the chair next to the shelves and stepped on the lowermost shelf. His eyes hardly went above it. Hanging from it with one hand he let the other explore the shelf with hope to find something interesting. Last time he had found the cap of a coconut oil bottle that had helped him make cylindrical clay moulds from it. A few disused keys, unattended papers and some dusted old books later, his hand met something made of plastic with blades. He drew it out.
It was sheer joy for him. He stood astounded in disbelief for what he had found was a “dragonfly helicopter flying toy!” The same one that he thought to have lost last winter. He straight went running to the photo of Lord Shiva, that was hanging from the wall and kneeled before it for this gracious surprise. He got up keeping his prayer fast and short; too excited to make the dragonfly fly. Holding it between both his palms, he gave it the hardest churn that his little hands allowed him.
“Shoosh….” And it flew, in a grandest of style possible; almost reaching the wooden ceiling of their mud house. Chiku dived to not let it touch the ground.
“Touchdown means game over”, the game he just invented.
Flights after flights, the dragonfly flew and Chiku was acing the game.
“Maybe they should introduce this game in the Olympics. I can certainly bring a medal for India then.” He let his mind run its course of imagination before the clock in the room rang.
“Tong, tong….” It rang four times! “How come it is four already!”
It was time for Lakshmi to leave her nap. He crept back to his bed next to Lakshmi with his prized possession. Lakshmi was yet to wake up. He covered himself up with a bed-sheet and kept the dragonfly in front of his eyes inside his little tent; slowly falling asleep with a smile on his face.

Brewing Romance

Pic Courtesy : https://stock.adobe.com/
Written by : Abhisek Pattnaik

“Mari Mari Kothaga Ni Jatha..”
The song played in the background as it drizzled outside. I didn’t understand Telegu but somehow this one was making perfect sense to me. There are certain songs that remain with you forever. Isn’t it? I had heard this song for the first time when I was in her room to help her move certain items. She was my friend’s girlfriend. And I fell for her like a dried leave; having no option but to fall. And when you are in Love, it makes you do stupid things. Isn’t it? Guess, now that I look back I won’t be able to assess, which one happened first. The falling in love or the stupidity that allowed me to fall.

“Knock, knock”.

I opened the door to the surprise of her presence there. The very sight of her was keeping me content those days. And there she was in her orange salwar. She must have taken a shower, as only her long hair seemed recently towel dried. Her dark circles were somehow making her Irish Brown eyes even more beautiful.

She smiled looking at my speaker bar that was playing the song; maybe acknowledging my fondness for her without saying a word.
“Tea”, she asked.
We shared the same building only separated by a single floor. We had become good friends by now to seek each other’s company for tea. Five minutes into it, we were sitting on the balcony with the speaker by our side; a cup of tea in our hands to witness the dusky sky grew darker as the evening skies of Kolkata continue to drizzle.

“I didn’t know, you like this song as well”, she said allowing herself an idiosyncratic chuckle.
I couldn’t muster enough courage to look into her eyes. So instead I continued to look into my cup of tea and said “Even I found it out very recently “.

She didn’t say anything nor did I. We simply sat there enjoying each other’s presence. Guess, nothing explicit was ever meant to be said. Love can be many things for many people; each having their own idea for it. But, for me that was it. An evening with her on my balcony as it continued to play…

“Mari Mari Kothaga Ni Jatha..“

Fish Korma

Lakshmi woke up 30 mins earlier than her usual i.e. five in the morning. And why not! It’s a special day in her life, after all. Raaju, her husband, had demanded for ‘Fish Korma’ to be prepared last night. Maybe it is the first time he demanded for something specific to eat in their one year long marriage. Rather maybe it was the first time they had a real conversation because of ‘Fish Korma’. Her shy nature in reflection to the typical indignant nature of Raaju, resulted in her spending most of her time in household chores. But, when Raaju demanded for a particular delicacy to be prepared, Lakshmi knew it was her chance to bridge the gap between them. After all, she had been trained well in the domestic dynamics by her mother. She understood very well that the route to a man’s heart goes through his tummy.

The day for Raaju started as usual. He left for the Tehsildar office i.e. the corner building in Banram village, sharp at nine. He was a man of bigoted principles and didn’t like even the slightest of deviation from his daily routine. All hours of his day had their specific purpose assigned to them. Lakshmi dialed up Chhoti Maasi, as soon as Raaju left for office. Choti Maasi was renowned in the Sahu family circle for possessing the best hands for food. Lakshmi noted down the steps involved in it cautiously as directed by Maasi, double checking them so that nothing was missed out.

And the preparation for the delicacy began. Diligently following all the steps as directed by Maasi, step by step, the ‘Fish Korma’ was finally ready. The aroma of it filled up the air of the whole house. Lakshmi was quite proud of what she was able to achieve. Afterall being the youngest, she never cooked at home. And it’s only once her marriage was fixed, she was exposed to daily routines of household chores by her mother.
“Is there anything special cooking today, Ma?”, her father-in-law asked with a smile.
Lakshmi chuckled and went running inside her room, waiting for Raaju to come for lunch, lost in her own world. It was indeed a happy day for Lakshmi.

Raaju came back sharp at 13 05 hrs. Seeing him Lakshmi smiled.
“It smells good”, Raaju said while maintaining his stoic expression. She was excited herself to showcase what she was able to accomplish and went inside the kitchen to serve him the food.

As soon as she entered the kitchen, she was bewildered to find a cat next to the kadhai having ‘Fish Korma’ in it. She jumped inside after it to shoo it away but the cat was swift enough to take a piece of fish and flee out via the window of the kitchen.
She started shivering in horror as she got reminded of the last instance when the lunch was delayed and the way Raaju’s wrath was showered upon her for days.
“It’s necessary to keep the women of the house disciplined” is what he had said when his mother had tried to intervene.
She stood there confused, lost in her thoughts. She certainly didn’t want the beating again.
“Why is it taking so long!”, Raaju shouted from the veranda. It shook Lakshmi from her seizure and brought her back to life. And she started serving the food but the ‘Fish korma’ as if she had gone on auto-pilot mode; serving it the best way possible.
“Where is ‘Fish Korma’?”Raaju raised his voice puzzled seeing his thali missing it.
“It’s… it’s…” Her father-in-law cut in before Lakshmi could confess.
“Keep your temper in check Raaju. Bahu, you go Ma. Bring it.”
Lakshmi nodded and went inside the kitchen. Having no other option left, she asked Lord Shiva for his forgiveness for this one time, before serving the ‘Fish Korma’ to Raaju garnished with coriander leaves.

The rest of the day passed by in a fizzy for Lakshmi. The household chores kept her busy. Raaju came back from office at seven as usual. But, he had brought a gift for Lakshmi this time; a red shawl. Looking at Lakshmi he smiled and said,
“How about Paneer Kofta tomorrow?”

Nomination for Liebster Award!!

Hello everyone. Hope all is well at your end. Well! Something new happened to me today. What started as a result of lockdown has landed me with a nomination for the Liebster Award by SnowHearT. And it could not have been more humbling experience for me. I thank SnowHearT with all my heart for this sweet gesture of hers.

SnowHeart is a fabulous blogger and with her words I completely resonated with from day one. she writes from her heart and the little stories and the poems carry a humane touch which are my personal favorites. Keep blogging SnowHearT. I’m so glad I found you this early in my journey with blogging.

Please do visit her blog at https://snowheart0529.wordpress.com/.

Rules:

Thank the blogger who nominated you, and provide a link to their blog.
Answer the 11 questions given to you.
Share 11 facts about yourself.
Nominate 5-11 other bloggers.
Ask your nominees 11 questions.
Notify your nominees once you have uploaded your post.

Questions asked by SnowHearT and my answers to them:

Who is your favorite blogger (writer, poet, and etc. ) here in WordPress? Why?
I’m fairly new here and I don’t have any favorite blogger per se. But having said that, I like many of them for their uniqueness, who I’m going to nominate here.
What is blogging for you?
It’s a medium for me express my inner self. Mostly i get bogged down in real life with the dos and don’ts of the society and here I feel more liberated.
How can you cope up from your boredom?
Well, these days I’m keeping myself engaged with books, write ups, watching movies and all. Otherwise it’s travelling, hanging out with friends.
Who do you inspire to blog?
Haha. I doubt I have inspired anyone yet. But, I hope that I inspire others to blog someday as it’s a great platform to do something productive or stay connected and spread some noble ideas.
What is your favorite topics in writings?
Mostly observational write ups with a humane touch to it. I would love to try my hand at satire someday though.
What is your greatest mistakes in your life? and How you surpass it?
To be honest my memory fails me with such things. Guess, I always carry a realistic attitude towards life and that helped me surpass them. “Life goes on”. If you can remember this, everything makes more sense.
If you are giving a chance to travel in different country. What country are you going to choose? Why?
Ohh! I would love to visit Italy and Japan. Italy because, i always find their culture a bit similar to India and I would love to try some authentic food their and meet up some new people. Japan, because its people with their culture and their scenic landscapes has always been magical for me.
What is your daily routine?
For now it’s completely unhealthy and I should not disclose it. It can be a health risk for others.
What is your favorite social media platform, and why?
Haha! That’s easy to answer. I am not active over social media. Yeah, if Whatsapp counts, then Whatsapp.
Do you have a mannerism? if yes what it is?
I have a tendency to copy others’ mannerisms. So, it keeps evolving over time.
What are your three wishes?
More Tolerance among people
Live and let live
Free world

Questions for Nominees :

Well, these are meant to give me some directions… So, they are pretty basic.

Which is your favorite city?
If you get to know that you are going to die tomorrow, what would be your last conscious act?
Where do you live?
Favorite food?
Where did you travel last?
How would you define love?
What is essence of life for you?
If someone cheats on you, will you accept him/her back within your present framework of reason?
Beach or mountains?
Road trip in bike or Car?
If you answered the above ten already, you are kind souls. thank you.

My Nominations:

My Nominees :

Have a great day everyone!!! Cheers.

An Usual Morning

Image Copyright : Sushree Satapathy
Written by : Abhisek Pattnaik

It rained cats and dogs last night; the first shower of the season. I woke up to the cool morning breeze that was making its way through the window. The rain had washed off the dusts of the summer, making everything more colorful again.

Rain always manages to summon the artist in me; maybe it also manages to wash away the dust of my daily life. And what better artists enjoy than solitude. High on the freshness of air that had a scent of rain in it, I went out to the terrace, welcomed by the symphony of chirping birds and sat by the table on the rooftop, that my landlady had discarded; with a cup of tea and a lit cigarette to accompany me.

A flock of pigeons on the building across the road were taking their baths, in the water pool collected on the rooftop from last night’s shower; while a conspicuously large pigeon sat on the half done, unattended parapet wall, watching over them; giving an impression as if he was in charge of oversight for this flock of pigeons to take proper baths.It brought me a smile, bringing me back memories of my childhood days; memories of my boarding school, the morning PT classes and our beloved PT teacher.

I was in Navodaya and those of you who are not aware of it, it’s a chain of Government sponsored boarding schools in India. We had our days meticulously divided, from morning till night; Sundays used to be an exception of course. And our days would start with the PT classes that I absolutely loathed. As an avid sleeper, I understood from childhood the beauty of sleeping in the morning hours, which the PT classes weren’t allowing me to have anymore. But, having given the option of attending morning PT verses caning from my PT teacher, I had opted for sacrificing my morning sleep most of the time. The morning yoga classes, the occasional tracking to nearby hills, the preparatory days before cluster meets for sports events that allowed us to play instead of the regular drills and our occasional intermittently successful attempts to escape from the drills after the attendance: it all came flushing in.

“Wouldn’t I absolutely love to relive those days. Maybe a single day to wake up in those bunker beds to the siren of morning PT; reserving taps with our towels for baths; standing in cues for breakfast; a fake fainting act to skip the morning assembly if it’s too sunny; stealing a glance from my childhood crush…. Oh! The list is just endless.”

My tea was over by now. So were the ceremonial baths of that flock of pigeons. Taking a smile on my face I came back to my room of routines. “Time for some dose of reality now.”

Photographs

My mother(in the left) along with my maasi(Aunt).
Written by : Abhisek Pattnaik

I just love visiting my mother’s old photo album pictures whenever I pay her a visit. It always brings me a smile, when she animatedly shares her little stories of what she and the ones in the picture were doing, while taking those pictures; vividly and more importantly, fondly remembering her good old days.
Photographs: the rectangular pieces of paper, holding time frozen in it for individuals, with each of them having their own little stories to share. It continues to amaze me how such a simple piece of paper can have such profound powers.
They don’t use film-pictures cameras anymore. Do they? When I come across my old pictures in any of the social media sites, I don’t remember any story like my mother. All I see is the number of likes it has. Somehow we managed to find ways to compete with others even for a simple noble thing as a photograph, just for the sake of competition. (Competing for the sake of competition.)
This makes me wonder, if disruptive innovations are actually good for us or not? Haven’t we become blind in the race already? Change after change: happening so fast that we hardly sit back and appreciate what we already have. Do we actually need so many things around us, with many of them lying unused and disused for years?
I remember as a kid, I used to love plucking flowers in the morning, collecting them in a basket for morning prayers.
I remember walking barefoot over the dew dropped grass lawns.
I remember swimming with bare trunks in the river; sometimes scared of what now is popular as ‘fish pedicure’.
I remember the cycling sessions through the foot roads under the sun, when the sun was busy playing hide and seek over the coconut trees.
I don’t remember the TV but the act of watching it together with all my extended family.
But, growing up, somewhere and somehow I lost touch with it. I lost touch with the things that actually gave me happiness once upon a time.
When did you last stop and lovingly touched the things lying around you: as a simple token of appreciation, for them being there? Maybe that treadmill that stands tall in the garage. Or that juicer which lies still wrapped in the kitchen. Or that laptop that you use daily.

I ponder if it’s not too late already. I ponder how the story would be, if I simply take photographs of all these things around me; adding up my very own stories to them, building up my very own castle of good memories.

Addendum : She was 18 in this picture and was tricked into taking this by my Nana(Maternal grandfather), so that it can be shared with the family of suitable grooms.That explains the gloomy face.

INCEPTION

My smart wearable woke me up at 5:30 in the morning. It’s been years since I have been waking up at this exact same time. Sometimes in perfect synchronization with my alarm: confused whether it woke me up or is it the other way around. The date in my watch said 21/09/2081. The interactive AI on my wall showed me the notification column as soon as I got up from my bed.
“Hello, Mr. Pattnaik. Here are your morning highlights.”
One among it, in particular caught my attention. It’s the last day for print media, as the only surviving newspaper “Bharti Daily” is being shut down. The private players had already left this loss-making business a long time ago and the Government has also finally decided to let it go.
“Who could have thought the days would see so many rapid changes?”, I thought, lost in the memories of my younger years.
I did my chores and left for the Lorey Lane where the Government was holding the virtual exhibitions, as a memoir for ‘Bharti Daily’, like in most of the cities of India. The place was crowded with mostly people of my age; only a few left of that generation who still loved ink on paper than the Kindles. The exhibition showcased Newspapers framed in glass(virtual) from over the years.
While taking a tour through it, I stopped at 2020. The headline in the paper said, ” The spectre of a post Covid-19 world”.
I touched the sync button and my AI asked, “Do you want me to read the full article or just the gist of it?”
“Just the gist, please.”, I said while memories of my past came rushing in. I was among the lucky ones to have survived this pandemic; both during and after. The original Covid-19 after plateauing for a while, fast evolved into SARS 3.0 with an unprecedented mortality rate. First half of the toll came from the virus and the next half, from the depression in the economy coupled with an widespread ‘epidemic of despair’ where many killed themselves voluntarily.The voice of my AI brought me back to the present.
“The author L K Reddy has tried to assess the post Covid-19 scenario from various perspectives; economic, political, social, environmental….”, it continued. I gave a smirk thinking no-one could assess the unfolding of Covid-19 back then. Suddenly, I started hearing this loud noise. My visible world started crumpling, only to be rearranged where I was thrown on my bed, waking me up from my dream. My heartbeat was rushing like a machine gun and my pillow was wet with my sweat. Hurriedly, I looked into the paper calendar hung over the wall and it said 19 November, 2019.