Categories
Poetry

‘Festas’

By Navneet K Maun

Madhubani: Art of Mithila. Wiki

Festivals celebrate, the beautiful colours

of cultural heritage.

Keeping alive traditions for posterity.

A respite from the mundane life.

Spreading happiness, joy.

A time to rejuvenate, bond

forgive and forget.

.

The joie-de-vivre

of Durga Puja celebrations.

Pandal* hopping in new attires

the very air abuzz

with excitement, bonhomie, music.

.

Tantalizing smells

of pucchka, ghugni, alur chops*, cuisine

enticing one and all

with gourmet delights.

.

Maa Durga’s matchless, divine beauty

instills in us faith, hope and courage

binding millions of hearts.

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Each and every festival

propagates brotherhood, peace and harmony

an absolute precedent.

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The quintessence of festivals

Lost in the metropolis

Of hectic lifestyle, numerous diversions

gridlock acting as dampeners.

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Where are the folklores

That enthralled children for decades?

Grandmothers, happy narrators

never tiring of replicating them.

.

The magic needs resurrection

from its nemesis, the Internet,

The wizard of all distractions.

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*Pandal — A fabricated structure in India housing stalls,events or festivals

*pucchka, ghugni, alur chops — Savoury snacks

Mrs. Navneet K Maun was born in West Bengal. Did her initial schooling from Oak Grove School, Jharipani, Mussoorie. She furthered her education from Regional College of Education, Bhubaneshwar. She did her Graduation and BEd from there. She did her Masters in English Literature from Banaras Hindu University, Varanasi. She has vast experience in teaching and has retired as a Senior Teacher from a Public School in Delhi. Her hobbies include reading, travelling, writing and cooking.

PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL. 

Categories
Poetry

And Then Came Gandhi…

 By Navneet K Maun

Let there be peace

in each household,

in every community,

indispensible, in the present scenario

of animosity, egoism, narrow-mindedness.

The dark period of Colonialism

unified the countrymen

afflicted by unemployment, poverty, atrocities

in their daily struggle for survival.

The Jallianwala Bagh Massacre

stirred up a hornet’s nest.

The great bard renouncing his knighthood,

a turning point in history.

And then came Gandhi

an apostle of truth,

a beacon of hope,

dispelling the darkness

of untouchability and casteism.

His holy grail acknowledged

by Einstein, Thoreau, Martin Luther King, Tagore.

Gandhi’s Satyagraha

paved the way for Emancipation

a herculean task.

The altar of freedom

cleansed with the blood of the martyrs

tears of the kin.

Their heroism making them immortal.

Let Gandhi’s India be a harbinger of peace and ahimsa

for the world at large.

.

Mrs. Navneet K Maun was born in West Bengal. Did her initial schooling from Oak Grove School, Jharipani, Mussoorie. She furthered her education from Regional College of Education, Bhubaneshwar. She did her Graduation and BEd from there. She did her Masters in English Literature from Banaras Hindu University, Varanasi. She has vast experience in teaching and has retired as a Senior Teacher from a Public School in Delhi. Her hobbies include reading, travelling, writing and cooking.”

.

PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL. 

Categories
Nostalgia Poetry

Nostalgia

by Navneet K Maun

My Mother’s cupboard was a treasure house,

evoking happy childhood memories.

The fragrance of the mahogany, nostalgic

with promises of a utopian world

waiting to be unlocked.

For a little girl of ten, it was magical

like Aladdin’s cavernous cave,

filled with all kinds of goodies.

Once in a while, when mother opened the cupboard,

she would let me look and look to my heart’s content.

Nothing pleased me more,

than jangling the coins in the tin box,

feasting my eyes on the trinket box,

with an assortment of pendants, rings, brooches, bangles.

Happy in the knowledge they would belong to me some day.

A square plastic box with a few lipsticks, kajal*, perfume was pushed at the back, hidden.

She used them sparingly.

Sandalwood soaps were her only weakness,

making the cupboard fragrant.

Her clothes were as soft and sweet smelling as her,

personifying her gentle, caring nature

in conjunction with her determination to give her children the best of education.

More than fifty years have gone by.

The cupboard is no longer there.

But, I still have my mother’s shawls and dupattas*.

They are still as soft and sweet smelling,

and ever so assuring.

*kajal — kohl

*dupattas — stoles

Mrs. Navneet K Maun was born in West Bengal. Did her initial schooling from Oak Grove School, Jharipani, Mussoorie. She furthered her education from Regional College of Education, Bhubaneshwar. She did her Graduation and BEd from there. She did her Masters in English Literature from Banaras Hindu University, Varanasi. She has vast experience in teaching and has retired as a Senior Teacher from a Public School in Delhi. Her hobbies include reading, travelling, writing and cooking.”

.

PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL.

Categories
Poetry

Colours of Life

By Navneet K Maun

Colours Of Life

Life is a beautiful Kaleidoscope,

its ever changing patterns,

brings forth the essence of existence.

It renders different shades and meaning to life.

Some colours are so discordant,

they refuse to blend,

no matter how hard one tries,

forcing one to make unacceptable compromises.

The voice of dissent becomes vicious,

the chasm widening,

causing mental torture, anguish and pain,

leaving behind deep scars.

It is best to wipe the slate clean,

for a fresh beginning,

for one’s sanity and peace.

Men are vulnerable too… victims.

They too are at the receiving end of an abusive relationship.

Yet, some colours are so vibrant,

they invigorate, soothe, motivate.

They are the colours of friendship, love, trust.

Colours of positivity, peace and harmony.

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Cobwebs

Stepping out after a month of lockdown,

I spied cobwebs hanging defiantly,

on the back of the door.

The master designer was missing.

Must have gone elsewhere,

to create its new masterpiece.

Cobwebs are metaphors,

for strained relationships,

for broken promises.

Cobwebs can settle on anything.

Relationships are not spared,

if covered in the dust

of negativity, insensitivity, mistrust.

They can turn a friend into a foe,

if the vision is clouded,

by the hues of insincerity, selfishness.

Do not let the cobwebs become stagnant,

in your mind, heart and soul.

Dust the cobwebs away.

Purge the demons of prejudices, intolerance,

discrimination and hatred.

The world will surely become a better place to live.

.

Mrs. Navneet K Maun was born in West Bengal. Did her initial schooling from Oak Grove School, Jharipani, Mussoorie. She furthered her education from Regional College of Education, Bhubaneshwar. She did her Graduation and BEd from there. She did her Masters in English Literature from Banaras Hindu University, Varanasi. She has vast experience in teaching and has retired as a Senior Teacher from a Public School in Delhi. Her hobbies include reading, travelling, writing and cooking.”

.

PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL.