Shubho BIjoya A little gift for you on Bijoya Dashami. · Shiksha- the part that teaches the right spelling and pronunciation plus way of chanting Vedas. Chhanda- it discusses the

Agnijaat by Sharmishtha Basu (Shravan 1423) Sankhya- July-august 2016

Shubho BIjoya

A little gift for you on Bijoya Dashami.

The first Issue of Agnijaat,

feel free to download it and read it, don’t forget to tell

me if you liked it or not.

2 | P a g e Agnijaat by Sharmishtha Basu Shravan Sankhya 17.7.16 to 17.8.16

Contents

S. No. Title Category P. No.

1 Content Index Index 1,2

2 Agnijaat Digital painting 3

3 A few words welcome 4

4 Let the journey begin Digital painting 5

5 Fill my darkness with your light Digital painting 6

6 Vedas the story Cultural India 7

7 Open your eyes and see Digital painting 10

8 Famous men and their women Womanhood in India 11

9 As you wish Digital painting 13

10 Privacy @ in my private world Tech babble 14

11 Well done! Digital painting 16

12 Farmers of India Social India 17

13 Storks in evening sky Photograph 19

14 Nature @ Kolkata in Shravana nature 20

15 When it is not raining Photograph 21

16 Don’t trust that one Survival tips 22

17 Indian Subcontinent Historical India 24

18 Radha Krishna Digital painting 25

19 STORY TIME Digital painting 26

20 Apple tree New story 27

21 Monsoon rain in Kolkata photograph 28

22 Dawn Guard Tower Story from book 29

23 Oh rain! Photograph 31

24 Don’t look back Story from book 32

25 Pouring rain Photograph 34

26 Isle La femme Story from book 35

27 Portulaca in rain Photograph 37

28 Little kindness Story from book 38

29 Black palm tree in rain photograph 40

30 Payback Story from book 41

31 Crane photograph 43

32 Scarecrow Story from book 44

33 Portulaca bud in rain photograph 47

34 Secret lover Story from book 48

3 | P a g e C r e a t o r M i s s S h a r m i s h t h a B a s u

35 The prisoner of sandcastle Book details 49

36 Verses Digital painting 51

37 Power hungry Digital painting 52

38 Power hungry poetry 53

39 Fight alone Digital painting 54

40 Fight alone poetry 55

41 reflection Digital painting 56

42 reflection poetry 57

43 Galactic gypsy Digital painting 58

44 Galactic gypsy poetry 59

45 Green fairies Digital painting 60

46 Green fairies poetry 61

47 poetry Digital painting 62

48 poetry poetry 63

49 If only Digital painting 64

50 If only poetry 65

51 Agnishatdal Digital painting 66

52 Agnishatdal intro and contributors Bios 67

53 Fir milenge Digital painting 68

54 parting words Thoughts 69

55 Thank You Acknowledgements 70

56 Agnijaat Digital painting 71



A few words from the creator

Miss Sharmishtha Basu

Agni-Fire-though people very often think about its destructive

power when they think of it but fire not only burns or destroys it

gives light and warmth too.

If properly used it places food on our table, gives us warmth in

winter and light in darkness.

When we venture too close it first singers, then burns and finally if

we are too obstinate to understand its signs it reduces us to ash.

A little like knowledge, wisdom, truth and many other virtues- they

demand respect, understanding. Give them that and you will be

blessed, play with them and they will either become darkness or

destroy you.

Agnijaat is a journey to all these and more, making myself a better

person through my works and leaving my experience for you to

contemplate upon, if I am blessed then follow one or two.


Let the journey begin


Fill my darkness with your light


Vedas The story

Well, anyone who has heard of Hinduism has heard of Vedas, the

four holy scriptures that content the soul of Hinduism. But, did you

knew that Vedas were not written down initially, they were

conveyed from generation to generation by hearing and

remembering? Wow!!! I can’t remember Gayatri Mantra properly all

the time!

The Vedas were written somewhere around 1500-1000 BCE,

Hindus believe that Vedas (origin word Vid or knowledge) were

preached by Brahma, the creator God himself by his four mouths at

a time, the face facing east preached Rigveda, that was received by

Sage Vashishtha. The face facing west preached Samveda, received

by Sage Gautam, the face facing north preached Atharva Veda,

received by Rishi Shaunak and the face facing south preached

Yajurveda received by Sage Yagnyavalkya.

The amazing part of Ved or Vedas is though they have been around

from 1500 BCE and Hinduism has been through all sorts of

changes ever since but that has not affected its revere status an

ounce. Even now, Vedas are the highest religious scriptures for all

Hindus and many Hindu rituals still follow Vedic instructions, like

the ones performed during birth, death, marriage.

Every Veda is again distributed into four parts- Sanhita, Brahman,

Aranyak and Upanishad.


Samhitas are verses, Rigveda has 1028 sootras, these are mantras

and praises of divine beings. Sam, Yajur and Atharva Vedas have

borrowed their Samhitas from Rigveda mostly. You can guess that

Rigveda is the first Veda, the oldest. The Samhitas Sootras of

Samveda were sung during Yagnyas. Yajurveda Samhita contained

the mantras for Yagnyas, the Samhita of Atharva Veda contains a

lot of mysterious mantras and skills other than the usual ones.

The Brahman is prose, it mostly contains the ways of performing

the yagnyas and other necessary suggestions, tips for the priests.

Aranyak and Upanishad are philosophy section of Vedas.

Aranyak handles the Vanprastha Ashram- in ancient India men and

women used to handover the charges of their family to their sons

and leave their home, to spend the rest of their lives worshipping

God, this was called Vanprastha.

Upanishads contain thorough discussions about different things

and often walks a few steps away from Vedic system. It discusses

about Karma, Maya, Mukti (salvation), mortal, celestial and such

topics.

Apart from Vedas Vedanga is also an intricate part of Veda,

Vedanga has six parts-


Shiksha- the part that teaches the right spelling and pronunciation

plus way of chanting Vedas.

Chhanda- it discusses the style of Veda proses.

Byakaran, Nirukta-These two discuss the words used in Vedas.

Jyotish, Kalpa- these discuss the dictums of Vedic religion and the

astrological part.

Among the parts of Vedanga Kalpa is the one worth mentioning

first- it provides the infrastructure of Vedic family- from birth to

death the duties of Hindus and how to achieve them, the detailed

religious “to do” things in gist- on every aspect of human life.

Panikar said about it “It is this body of domestic ritual which makes

a Hindu.” These writings have been written over different periods

but they show a deep thinking process of very learned sages and an

attempt of building a society on strong infrastructure, maybe that is

why Hinduism is the oldest religion of the world that is still thriving

merrily.

Vedic Sahitya, literature was the basis of Indian literature.


Open your eyes and see


Famous men and their Women

Ever wondered how tough it is to be “that woman” who is “behind

every successful man”? Ha! Almost all successful men have a

woman who has been in the background, silent contributor to every

step of his success, some were obscure, who made a home for him

as a mother or wife. Others for some reason were thrown into

limelight.

Say for example Sita, her marital life started normally, a princess

married a prince and started living in a palace blah blah blah, but…

then fate took its turn and they landed in forest. Thereafter her

misery, plight became the foundation of Ramchandra becoming Sri

Ramchandra, she finally could no longer take the humiliation and

pain mostly caused by him and left earth. Though it is said that the

Goddess earth opened up for her took her away,

Then comes Draupadi, a princess, whose hand in marriage was won

by one of the Pandavas, Arjuna but to obey their mother’s command

she had to become wife of all five brothers. Now, having five mighty

warriors could not save her from humiliation in the hands of her

own brother in laws! Boy! That was one seriously disturbed family!

They humiliated her in open court, where her father in law’s brother

was sitting! The main culprit was Yudhisthir’s blind obsession to

gambling, he just did not knew when to quit! Boy! It sure makes

you wonder what actually went inside the heart of these two

women, who were princesses and habituated to respect! Draupadi’s

humiliation was one of the main reasons behind the epic battle of


Mahabharata, which gave images of Pandavas a super hike as great

heroes, but Draupadi stayed the cursed one, her five sons from five

mighty warriors were slain.

There are so many examples of these women who have been

sacrificed on the altar of glorification of their husbands, or we

should justly say that their sacrifice has been the foundation of

their husband’s glorification! Harishchandra sold his wife Shaibya

and kid, a queen and prince to keep his promise. They went

through hell. He became synonymous to truth and commitment.

One truly feels happy that women are no longer owned by men,

don’t they?

But even now, once in a while these ghastly news items pop up

where husbands pimp off their wives to clear their debts in oh yes,

gambling!


AS YOU WISH…


Privacy @ in my private world

We truly are living in a very seriously disturbed world these days,

created by some deranged mind and often funded by governments

using our own tax money to spy on us!

Now, I have often confided into my close friends and clearly told my

readers about how confident I am that my calls, smses, even emails

were once intercepted before they reached me, and after those five

years I am no longer sure that they reach me directly, I guess .

It all started after I met a specter from my past in somewhere

around 2007. This specter is quite a chameleon, she has various

identities in various towns and separate families in every town too, I

have come across two sets, so maybe now some more has been

added.

Now, when I look back I can clearly see that this office, and the

office I joined after it- both were connected without an inkling of

doubt- and so was the creepy landlord I was staying with back at

that time.

These three sets of ghouls most probably cyber-napped my actual

life, and used it against me. I first started to suspect when all my

friends started using same language of communication, same ways,

mannerisms, emails that I subscribed for did not showed up, emails

seemed tampered, so did smses.

Then I got some clear hints from one of the human beings in my ex

abode, that someone indeed was controlling my phone calls and

smses. But by then I was heckled to go indoors by some mysterious

bastards and accidents that stalked me whenever, wherever I went.


After a while I started to suspect my phone that it gave up my

location, and you will be quite intrigued to know that when I was in

Hyderabad it was partly proved to, during the first few months I

went out and always left my phones in home because that was the

only house where I had locked cabinets, so I could leave my phones

at home without being stalked through them.

Then for unavoidable reasons I had to carry them and voila! The

stalking started instantly, everywhere I went and passed more than

fifteen minutes my stalker announced its presence. How that creep

was cheeky enough to use my once used ringtone, which I stopped

using when I heard that someone in my landlord’s house was using

that ringtone, right after I started using it, but that ringtone

followed me from Kolkata to Hyderabad and back to this housing. A

woman (the only one) sitting opposite me used the same ringtone

when I returned from Hyderabad on 31.10.15, basically these

bastards want me to know that they are stalking me.

After much study I have learned one thing, that in today’s world our

phones can be used to screw up our lives real bad, all you will need

is a tech savvy depraved at your heel, forget about my case, I had at

least a dozen of them.

Come on we live in a society formed by creatures who think it is

“ethical” to read someone’s private mails, smses, overhear his/her

conversations, watch him/her via hidden webcameras! What else do

you expect? Privacy in your home? Bah! Come again?


Well done!


Farmers of India

Half a century or so earlier one of the Indian Prime Ministers, Lal

Bahadur Shastri uttered a legendary slogan, “Jay jawan jay kisan.”

That is “Salutes to the army men and the farmers!” honestly

speaking, both categories are quite abused in India, the army is

spared a bit by their own infrastructure like cheap canteen etc.

which makes up for the meager amount of money they get as

salary, then I have heard that those who guard the border live in

hell, they are left in drastic natural condition on the mercy of

nature, that is without much heating arrangement in ice or cooling

arrangement in desert.

The farmers deprived of that infrastructure live in hell, bang in the

middle of the country, without any outside threat! There are so

many excuses given by the governments why they commit suicide

by dozens every year, but are those problems solved? Does the

government earnestly tries? Answer to both is no. Is it possible to

solve majority of the problems that cause these people commit

suicide? The answer is yes. Only if… only if the government

earnestly tried!

The reasons I read in my economics books up-to graduation level

were more or less these-

1. Nature’s whimsical ways- that is something which is inevitable

in nature, right? She will do whatever she wants to do, but if a

farmer has enough to suffer one or two years of absolute

rotten weather then he may pull through! All he will need is

food and other necessary things for his family. Now, when the


weather is favorable, if his crop is sold at a fair price he will

certainly be able to save for rainy days!

2. Loan Sharks- this is one thing the governments can solve with

a snap of finger, so no excuses are acceptable on this ground

from authorities, these sharks loan money to farmers and then

squeeze out their last drop of blood, well, the governments

should control them! This is something they can do period.

3. Small pieces of lands, too small to be precise, maybe they

should be taught to grow something that will give them

enough return at least enough to feed their own families, that

will do I guess...

4. Illiteracy- how about governments giving some money to the

children of farmers who after completing graduation or better,

higher studies, decide to help their fathers/neighbors with

agriculture instead of wasting time in job queues or working

for peanuts in cities? Just because they have wasted too much

money on education and can’t go back to village without a job?

That may not only improve the condition in villages but solve

the unemployment problem a wee bit too!

5. The middlemen who swallow the crop and spit out pits for the

farmers! This is another big problem like loansharks that is

destroying the farmers of India, these people sweet-talk or

wrangle the crops away from the farmers, sell them at

fantastic price and then usurp the profit, the farmer gets a

meager amount of money.

Now say, had the farmers been a bit affluent, and the roads

from villages to cities were actual roads, then after a little

training from government authorities a group of farmers might

have rented a small building and sold their products there,

directly to the customers, how fantastic it would have been for

both parties? I think amazing! Buying fresh, clean stuffs at a

good price would have been dream bargain for a customer in

India.


Storks in evening sky


Nature @Kolkata in Shravana

After a spell of hair-raising heat in March and April the weather is

just like West Bengal weather this year, after quite a long gap!

For last few years Kolkata summer has turned dry, instead of the

stuffy, unbearable summer it was becoming really dry, without

much sweat or rain. Well, at least for this year we have been

suffering the classic West Bengal summer, either rain, or waterfall

of sweat trickling down the body!

Monsoon in West Bengal means lot of rain, song of crickets and

Kadamba Flowers, now I can’t share the song of crickets, which is

quite heard here, they sometimes start their choir at noon, in

evening it is mandatory. Sometimes they sing so loudly that you will

think that there are thousands out there having a blast!

So, a few shots from Kolkata monsoon scattered all over this issue

will tell you Kolkata story for this month.


When it is not raining


Don’t trust that one….

Skills of survival by happysoul

Skill 1 : Beware of the person who says “I will do anything for….”

Even if it’s the word “you” that fills up that blank.

That person cannot be trusted much, because if s/he means those

words then s/he will crush his/her “conscience” for “that

person/thing” no matter what it is! Different people have different

words to fill up that blank- parents, family, God, country!

Now those of us who have some values we do have some “things” we

don’t compromise with, like our ambition, our values, our families,

God, country, principles… the list will go on and on. Have not met

anyone yet who does not have at-least one word in this list. Most

have multiple. Like I too have one or two, I don’t compromise with

my own conscience, nor do I allow others to make me do it. I avoid

such persons and walk away from them if I can. If I can’t then I put

a guard against them. They do win once in a while but I utterly

detest that.

But I won’t do “everything” for my “conscience” because I know very

well that though my intentions maybe best I can be wrong, so, aay

today I do something extreme to keep my conscience clean and end

up cursing myself tomorrow for dragging things that far- that is not

a good option for me. So I do allow things, people, circumstances to

cross their limit a bit, till I assure myself that I should rather not

allow them further intrusion in my comfort zone.


I still believe in mutual respect rule for everyone, including myself.

But, in this world infested with garbage cans you may follow that

principle, others may not, actually the numbers of “may not” are

more than “may” here. There was a time when cowboys drew blood

when they met these dustbins, even though I don’t forgive these

dustbins but I don’t believe in “drawing blood” or the cheaper trick

“settling scores later”, instead of that I believe in keeping these

vermins out of my life and believing in the old saying, time settles

every score. In gist though my dignity means more to me than I will

tell you but I won’t do “everything” for it, at the maximum I may kill

you if you push me too far, but I won’t do anything that my

conscience won’t allow. So will do a lot but “Everything” no!

So I really don’t count on those people who are ready to shun their

conscience for something, no matter how beautiful that thing is,

how holy or revered.


Indian Subcontinent….

Glimpses of Indian History

History is story of man in society, as per historians, and there are

many factors that decide man’s actions, by which the action of the

society in which he lives is determined. One of the important factors

is the geographical natural conditions of the country in which he

lives. So, before we indulge ourselves with the history of India let’s

talk about geography.

Indian subcontinent was once separated from the rest of the world

by mountains like Himalayas and oceans, therefore giving the

subcontinent the scope to grow its own unique civilization.

Historians argue sometimes that Indian subcontinent should be

called a continent and its states as countries like Britain or France

because each state of India has its own unique culture, often

extremely different from each other.

Indian subcontinent was not only separated from rest of the world,

inside it was again divided into three parts, which due to natural

characteristics developed unique cultures. The plateaus of middle

and southern India discouraged powerful emperors, kings of north

from invading Southern parts and Bengal for a long, long time.

That is the reason behind the very clear distinction between the

cultures of Southern and Northern India, the actual residents of

India, the Dravidians took shelter in the plateaus after being


defeated by the Aryan Invaders and slowly laid foundations to some

of the mightiest dynasties of India, Chola, Pandya etc. The culture

of Southern India thus is highly influenced by Dravidians, though

later with time and aggression Northern Indian kings started

invading and conquering Southern parts of Indian subcontinent

and blending the cultures.

India was always prosperous, and as nature stood guard to

invaders it grew a beautiful culture that preferred spiritualism over

materialism.


IT IS STORY TIME


Apple tree

The chirping of birds woke her up. She was sleeping like a child, it

has been so long since she last slept so deeply! Age has robbed her

of this priceless gift too, deep slumber! Now sleep if comes comes in

fits and snatches!

“What are you so happy about in this freezing winter little fellas!”

she muttered.

A soft breeze sneaked into her room, through a small crack and

kissed her forehead, it was not freezing, it was not even cold, it was

warm like spring.

She opened the door and came out in the garden. All the trees were

blooming! Spring has conquered her garden overnight! Last night

she fell asleep listening to the soft sound of snowflakes and shrieks

of winter gale.

Now, each and every tree that gave flowers in spring summer was

filled with flowers, butterflies and bees.

Sound of horse’s hooves drew her attention to the white chariot,

pulled by white majestic horses that pulled in. A girl in white frock

opened its door, “Come mommy!”

“June!” She rushed to the little child with open arms, forgetting that

she has cremated her fifteen years ago.

Next morning a neighbor discovered her, under an apple tree,

covered with snowflakes, sleeping the final slumber. A bright smile

and joyous expression on her otherwise tired, withered face.


Monsoon rain in Kolkata


Dawn Guard Tower

Mridul stopped his jeep after pulling it to a side of the dusty road.

Chinmayee stepped out of the jeep. She untied the scarf she has

tied on her head like a helmet to save her hair from getting all

dusty.

“The brown powder is looking pretty on your face.” Mridul grinned.

“Ha ha… are we funny or what!” she smirked, pretending to be

annoyed was next to impossible for her, she was so cheerful by

nature.

The ocean was rolling in front of them, its turquoise blue body

rippling in white foamy waves and gently patting the shores before

rolling back again, as if tempting them to run with them into the

chest of the mighty ocean.

“What is that?” she pointed her finger at an old building that looked

like a deserted lighthouse.

“That’s dawn guard tower!” Mridul answered.

“Dawn what?” Chinmayee asked again to confirm she has heard it

right.

“There is a story that has been told from generations….. Sun fell in

love with a young woman of a village that was situated near the

ocean.”


“He used to hide his celestial power in a robe and come down to

meet her in the pre-dawn hours, after spending some time with her

he used to pick up his robes from there…” he pointed his finger at

the tower, “It was not a tower back then, it was sun temple.”

“Without that robe he was a mere mortal, and with that robe

anyone could earn his celestial powers…”

“A demon saw the deity in love and decided that he will use the

chance to steal the robe.”

“He entered the temple with the intention of stealing the robe but

the priest saw him, he died defending the robe and the demon

failed.”

“The grateful deity created that tower. They say the first rays of the

sun hit that tower every morning before touching anything else….”


Oh rain!


Don’t look back

A gust of wind hit her straight on face, the only place it could hit

actually remaining body was covered by a mountain of woolens. She

quickened her pace to cross the distance from bus stop to her flat.

All of a sudden she felt that someone was following her, she turned

and saw a figure walking in the same direction at a distance he or

she was not clearly visible because of the fog.

She looked around her, there was no one else visible on the street,

it was late and sane people were relaxing in their warm rooms.

She had no one else to blame but herself, she stayed late to finish

the note her coaching class tutor has given. She might have done it

tomorrow, by reaching there early, but no, she had to do it today so

she could study it during the night.

She quickened her pace more, to avoid the person who might be

following her, and turned back after a while to test, the shadow too

stopped and bent down, pretending to do something as she watched

it, the distance was same just enough to make recognition

impossible but enough to pounce on her at first chance.

“Hello Sweetie.” A voice rang real close to her and made her almost

jump, he hissed in a malicious voice.

Her limbs froze, she knew who he was, a notorious gangster of the

area, infamous for his preying on women. She realized that on one

side of the road was a small park apparently from there Kalu has

stepped out and on the other side was thirty feet high wall of a

factory.


He was reeking of country liquor and a half empty bottle was

dangling from his hand.

He reached out to grab her hand and then froze, his eyes started to

bulge out of his face, he was staring right behind her and then he

dropped there, unconscious. Whoever was behind her certainly had

some effect on that drunkard!

She was about to turn instinctively when she heard a voice, the

voice of a woman, “Don’t turn back child! Just walk towards your

home, go home. I will be following you.”


Pouring rain


Isle la femme

They were tired.

All the exploitation and warmongering nature of men has finally

exhausted them, pushed them to the limit. It seemed men will never

change, alter their nature. They will just wipe each other and the

rest of the world out with them.

So they decided they will create a world of their own, without men.

A group of them isolated themselves in an island in middle of

nowhere and started to worship Mother Goddess Kali; decades

passed by before the goddess was pleased and she appeared before

them.

She granted them their wish and a boon.

Thus the island was formed.

She blessed them that only women and men who respected them as

equals and shared their views of a peaceful life will be able to put

their feet in that island, to others that island will be invisible, they

will just walk through it without seeing it, feeling it.

And she blessed that if men outside their small world succeed into

killing each other they won’t be able to destroy the earth and other

inhabitants of earth, or this island.

So while the world around them squabbled and fought they lived a

peaceful life.


Those pure-minded souls that could see them told about them to

others, and when greedy people tried to win that island filled with

gorgeous women they saw nothing. Only blue ocean greeted them,

his waves churning, as if laughing at them.

Thus started the stories of mermaids and sirens; gorgeous phantom

women who misguided sailors. Everyone talked about their beauty,

lusted after them but never had the chance of having one or

touching one.

Once in a while a pure-hearted soul left the remaining world behind

and joined them the stories got few extra mighty gusts of wind

behind their sail.

Their world thrived under the veil of mysterious armour.

One sad day they realized that human beings have destroyed the

rest of the human population. They stepped out of their invisible

island to make the earth habitable again. Hoping and praying their

children will follow the path of peace and sharing.


Portulaca (Nine O Clock) in rain


Little Kindness

It was twisting and twitching helplessly on the rocks when he first

saw it. Silver sparkles of its scales caught his attention as he was

walking cautiously on the rocky banks of the mountain river.

The river was roaring and foaming as it dived to the valley below.

He quickly reached it; it was a small fish that somehow landed on

the rocks.

He picked it up and released it in water.

He was standing in the valley below half an hour later; a little

distance away the river has formed a calm pool. The water was

absolutely still and tempting. He has discovered this spot yesterday

during trekking.

His friends were sleeping in the camp, too tired to move, as per

their repeated complains so he decided that he will utilize the time

they wasted sleeping.

He quickly changed into his shorts and slipped into the water.

The water was truly refreshing. He stayed close to the shore

because he did not know swimming.

All of a sudden he felt something tugging at his leg, it was a violent

pull and he lost balance, he saw a mysterious creature, it had tail of

a fish and torso of a man, its eyes were like fish and had claws in

its hands.

It started to drag him deeper and deeper, he tried to tear free but it

was far stronger.


Suddenly he saw a shoal of fish attacking the creature. They started

to hit it from all directions, soon his leg slipped from its claws.

A pair of big fishes gently nudged him to the shore. He scampered

outside and ran as far as he could and then crashed on the ground.

“What are you doing here babu (Sir)?” a voice startled him out of his

exhaustion.

“I was trying to take a bath in that pool, something… pulled me

under!” he said, trying to gather his senses together.

“Did you enter that pool? Thank God you are alive. That pool is

cursed. It kills anyone who dares to enter its water.” The little

shepherd boy said gravely.


Black palm tree in rain


Payback

Binky tapped Sacky on shoulder Sacky stepped forth after a quick

exchange of glances.

There he was, a small child, barely four or five years old, playing

under the tree. Sacky approached him as Binky quickly glanced

around him. There was no one in sight. Dusk was gathering, so

they will have the whole night.

He watched as Sacky coaxed the child into the woods, he confirmed

for a while that no one is noticing them then quickly followed.They

loved small babies; their flesh was irresistible to them. Old Binky

and young Sacky moved in pair, like all members of their tribes did.

One lured the prey the other stood on guard.

The wood was dark; the big trees have blocked the feeble sunlight,

casting shadow all over the place.

“Sack! Where are you?” He called out in a low voice.

He heard a muffled cry – it came from a clump of thick bushes.

“I hope you are not cheating me!” he chuckled as he quickly covered

the distance.


He froze in his track! Sack was lying on the forest floor- dead! A

mother werewolf was teaching her boy how to eat. She lifted her

head, their eyes met and then she sprang.

“This one is all bone and skin baby but we will have to kill it too,

otherwise it will run to its tribe and warn them against us.” The

wolf growled before lunging.


Crane or Stork


Scarecrow

It was early dawn. The field was filled with green paddy plants

waving their heads and creating a scene of perfect peace and

tranquility.

He stood there breathing heavily. His old lungs were too feeble to

feel the sweet fragrance of young plants. The aroma of wet soil or

the sweet fragrance the air was carrying, the fragrance of champak

flowers blooming somewhere close.

There was a scarecrow in the field. An unknown bird was sitting on

one of its stick hands. It was wearing a purple tee shirt. That shirt

looked familiar.

He just could not recollect the place or how he got there. He went

near the scarecrow cautiously, the soil was loose; the farmer has

irrigated it last night it seemed. But that shirt was drawing him like

a magnet.

He peered at the shirt through his hazy vision, “Why did I left my

glasses at home!” he muttered. Then he recognized the shirt. It was

her favourite shirt.

She! Her thought dried his mouth! A deep sigh left his old lungs

and slowly stirred the shirt. He straightened his back with a little


trouble. He looked at the scarecrow with his hands on his aching

hips and grimaced a bit.

He still recollects when he first saw her. A lovely girl, a few years

older than his son; his son loved her, wanted to marry her. He fell

in love with her too and decided that she was right for him, not his

son.

He tricked his son into believing that she was in love with him. He

had convincing methods of course. He requested one of his

employees to help him and promised him a huge promotion. The

greedy man agreed and met the girl pretending to be him, just for

once and then never show his face to her.

He ensured that by promoting and transferring him to the other end

of the country.

The girl thought that she loved a young man and in reality she was

being tricked by an old vulture with his feet dangling over grave. He

fooled her for years, trying to win her heart, he sucked her youth

dry. He did not meet her but kept the love alive through smses and

mails.

Then when his son gave up on her and got married, happily settled

he decided that he will take a chance. The day the girl came to

know the truth she committed suicide.


Thank God his son did not get a whiff! After all, it was not entirely

his fault! He loved her. He would have married her if she was not so

conscious about her youth and his old age.

He sighed once more and turned back to go. Something moved. A

putrid stench filled his lungs. He felt a breath on his neck, freezing

cold air brushed past his nape.

A hand fell on his shoulder; a young woman’s decaying hand. It

gripped his shoulder firmly. “I have come back to stay with you

now!” a croaking voice said in a crooning tone.

“We will be together forever!”


Porulaca (nine o clock) bud


Secret lover

The river danced and gurgled under his feet, singing own song, as if

in tune with his flute. The moon was glowing above.

A soft wisp of wind touched his body, autumn was arriving.

He got up and started walking towards his bungalow, a few minutes

distance from there. He loved passing some time here before retiring

for the night.

She stood there watching him, without making a single sound. She

knew if he saw her he will either die out of fright or run away from

the bungalow, she will miss his flute’s music.

During day time he came to her little grocery shop to buy things,

she has seen his eyes full of yearning but have ignored him, the

vermillion in her forehead has told him that she was married, and

being a man of principles he has stayed within his limits even after

losing his heart completely.

She waited for him to close his door and bolt it and then lifted her

head to the moon and howled.

It was time for hunt!

He checked the doors and windows again after hearing the howling.

He has never seen the wolf but better be safe than sorry!


The prisoner of Sand Castle

These stories (excluding The Apple Tree) are from the book The prisoner of

Sand Castle published in Amazon. If you like these you may enjoy the book too.

It is in amazon kindle and createspace both.

Authored by Miss Sharmishtha Basu

Edition: 1

A collection of stories to stimulate the dreamer in you. To stir up your

imagination and make them explore the possible and impossible as you pull up

the covers and snuggle in your bed with the book.

Publication Date: Dec 04 2014

ISBN/EAN13: 1505309662 / 9781505309669

Page Count: 92

Binding Type: US Trade Paper

Trim Size: 6" x 9"

Language: English

Color: Black and White

Related Categories: Fiction / Fantasy / General

https://www.createspace.com/5141895

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00QK1X4AG



Verses


Power hungry


Power hungry

So many times

a cunning shrewd man

uses human ignorance, intolerance

to rise and grab the throne,

and scatter thorn

that bleeds those who follow him

and follow him not!

They always pick up the purest robes

to defile them by their soiled souls.

The robes of love, country and God

are their favorite covers

to hide their dark beings.

If you look through that white

you will see only darkness.

Follow them and you will

be engulfed by their darkness.


Fight Alone


Fight alone

All that spite and hatred,

that you have for others,

not for some justified reason

but for weird reasoning of your own.

Based on their skin colour or

food habit, or the way they talk,

walk, or love!

The big small differences that

your shallow mind can’t tolerate

are not reason enough to spill blood.

No matter how igniting your words are,

keep them to ignite yourself.

We won’t be following you to another bloodbath,

if you want to fight,

fight alone!


reflection


reflection

It’s so easy to walk into a reflection

an image created by your own perception

and then get lost in its deception.

Things that seem to be there

but are not truly there.

You just fumble about here and there.

The perfection of that place does blind

with Its dazzling ways like spider-web bind

till you forget what you actually had behind

the real you, your world hidden behind

that dazzling fake world and lose yourself or mind.


Galactic Gypsy


Galactic gypsy

Standing alone

in the absolute darkness

I watched

the mute symphony of stars,

rising and falling

in million colours and shades of light

without a sound.

I watched comets blazing by

their hundred hued tails

stretched from one end of that darkness

to the other end.

I watched

the universe at play.


Green fairies


Green fairies

Everybody has a favorite tree,

not me!

Why is it so hard for me

to pick one amongst you?

Who will I pick my sweet friends?

Which one of you is more to me?

The fragrant coral jasmine

carrying the memories of past sweet,

or the flaming petals of Krishnachura

which never fails to dazzle,

sweet gardenia, how can I not love

your divine presence, fragrance,

the simple flowerless, fruitless tree,

right outside my window,

giving shelter to birds… how can I

not love thee?


Poetry


Poetry

Oh you bring smile to my lips

when you open a window in my mind

to a faraway place, real or not

that depends on you.

You play with my words and take them

On a journey with you,

through the woods or city roads,

for a long long trip,

in the evening you retire with them

in a roadside tavern or under a tree.

Watch the moon shine in sky

through the branches of the tree.

Sometimes you hear stories from strangers

by the campfire or fireplace.

Sometimes you hear meadow lark

or fairies singing in the vale.

Then you take my words back home

and surrender them to me.


If only


if only

If only!

I had wings

or the wind

carried me!

So many places I have to see,

but tied to this tinsel town

I can’t flee!

My mornings would have

started by ocean, watching the sun

painting the world crimson.

Then on my wind stallion

I would have headed for some woods

to have my feast!

Next stop would have been mountains

in some fragrant valley

I would have laid myself down

and watched the butterflies flying.

Evening would have turned snowy peaks

blushing pink and the sky red.

When the stars would start twinkling

my stallion will take me to a desert

where I will lie under the night diamonds

losing myself in their company.


Agnishatdal

Let her be, with time she will bloom like a magnificent lotus.

Spread her warmth, beauty and fragrance to those who will

know her, respect her, love her and try not to violate her.

Let her fire keep her, save and illuminate her, let her lotus spread beauty, fragrance all around her.

The warmth of love, light of wisdom, knowledge, beauty of

creativity and fragrance of peace become her more and more.

May her journey be blessed and divine.


Agnishatdal

Agnishatdal is Agnijaat’s twin sister, she was the planned one, a group

magazine blessed by wisest persons by their creations. As it was overflowing

her little basket Agnijaat took birth, to help her. It will contain only my works,

that is the creator of these twins, Sharmishtha Basu.Hope they both will be

blessed by the world, the universe and readers!

The creative group of Agnishatdal :

Hemdiva Dev

http://momsprincesspari.wordpress.com

Brieuc Martin Onraet

https://equinoxio21.wordpress.com/

Carolyn Page

https://abcofspiritalk.net/

https://lightworkersoftheworld.net/

Troy David Loy

https://kestalusrealm.wordpress.com

Gayle Rose

https://bodhirose.wordpress.com

Lisa Ojanpera

Dominic S.Collucci

Arjo Dasgupta

https://bongstories.wordpress.com

Raghunandan Kuppuswamy

https://ksriranga.wordpress.com

https://tskraghu.wordpress.com

Sharmishtha Basu

https://mydomainpvt.wordpress.com

http://www.google.com/url?q=http%3A%2F%2Fmomsprincesspari.wordpress.com&sa=D&sntz=1&usg=AFQjCNFcrlNSU63_MAysBFPtJidmzTK2rg

https://equinoxio21.wordpress.com/

https://kestalusrealm.wordpress.com/


Fir Milenge (Till we meet again)

Fir Milenge (Till we meet again)


When we truly love something then only it’s condition effects us, we become

happy with its ascent and sad or mortified with its descent.

While reading Agnijaat you will read some negative words about Indians,

though I love India but I am not very fond of it’s present (post independence)

children, they have achieved some substantial good things but have forgotten

too many values, in unison, by the power of multitude they are dragging the

country down into a pit of darkness.

If we, those who love our motherland don’t protest now it will soon be too late,

unless of course, it is as the sages said is “Ghor kaliyug” when men will

become demons and then God will absolutely destroy the earth and rebuilt it.

But I believe in the words- God helps those who help themselves, so let us fight

against this darkness in our own ways!

So forgive some really harsh words uttered against Indians, they are the people

I see around me, you see! Can’t put them out of my words.

See you again on 1st Bhadra, 1423, that will be 18th August 2016, with another

bouquet of Indian flowers and thorns too…. Ignore the thorns and enjoy the

lotus.

Website

https://agnijaat.wordpress.com, official email id [email protected] but use [email protected] or [email protected] for prompter response.

https://agnijaat.wordpress.com/

mailto:[email protected]




A big thanks

I will love to thank these people/sites from heart before starting- My friends for sharing their priceless works (in Agnishatdal).

Wikipedia, vedpuran.wordpress.com for information.

Google for information and models for my illustrations (some).

My graduation history book writer Dr. Atul Chandra Roy for

writing that book which will be quite a study material for me as I create and develop my twins to their full glory.

Finally to the readers and readers to be, especially those who will join the team in Agnishatdal or honour the creator by subscribing.

https://daintypetals.wordpress.com

https://www.amazon.com/author/sharmishthabasu

https://www.facebook.com/sermistabasu

https://in.linkedin.com/in/authorsharmishthabasu

https://daintypetals.wordpress.com/

https://www.amazon.com/author/sharmishthabasu

https://www.facebook.com/sermistabasu

https://in.linkedin.com/in/authorsharmishthabasu


Agnijaat- Fireborn

Documents

Shubho BIjoya A little gift for you on Bijoya Dashami. · Shiksha- the part that teaches the right spelling and pronunciation plus way of chanting Vedas. Chhanda- it discusses the