Debarth's Den

I recall not the time, of lethe nights and days When the moon's changing ways, and the sun's golden rays; The green of the trees, and the azure of the skies Could regale me not, or my unborn little eyes; As deep within you, tossing and turning; Unknown to me, my life was yet a'forming; As love overflowed your heart into mine With a hopeful throb, in your loving twine W aking and sleeping, you thought and dreamt Only of me, your whole being swept In the warm flood, of a storge so great, Every drop you sipped, every morsel you ate Had a wish for me, and a benediction so pure That millions of ills, it had the power to cure W hat storms you endured all alone When I was but a dream, yet unborn; When slumber you forsook, staring at the night Anon in fright, that I might take flight; When hope and fear your heart did share And rose to your lips in a fervent prayer; Oh! That I could share of a portion of that strife Which you bore for me, before I came to life W hen with rousi

Sometimes , when I have nothing much at hand, and my eyes start staring into empty space, the mind maunders in the labyrinthine streets and alleys of the past. My past is so full of Shillong, that any reflection must of necessity be dominated by memories of that place. Today, I ponder over the various reasons why Shillong should occupy that exalted position in my remembrance, knowing as these travel-worn feet have trodden so many roads and lanes and pathways that at least some of my sojourns abroad might have deserved a bit of the fondness which has so completely been impounded by my place of birth. But yet, the reasons are many, and compelling. Society , as I knew it in Shillong, for instance, I have not known anywhere else. That natural, spontaneous and uninhibited commingling of diverse minds and tastes could only have been possible in the Shillong of yore. Why? I don't have the answer, but that's what it is (or was). No household was allowed to hibernate in solitude and glo

Diwali has always been my favorite festival, and has never failed to elicit a smile in the dreariest of circumstances. Yet, the flavour and charm of Diwali that we experienced in Shillong can never, ever be equalled in my mind; which is why, every time the atmosphere assumes that attitude of gaiety, my mind reverts to those Diwalis in Laban, and poesy springs to my lips: Again , it is that time of the year, When gloaming arrives with tidings of cheer, As the soft wings of the winter breeze, Flutter gaily among the plants and trees As wisps of swaying golden light, Dancing in arrays to welcome the night, Perching on walls and pillars and stairs, imbue Festive eventide with their cheerful hue What gilt railing, what humble wall; What gaudy mall, what modest stall; Every little hamlet, every tower tall; Porches and yards, doorways big or small; Shimmer divinely in that quivering glow, Soothing every wan heart, every creased brow, As glowing seraphs tease the stirred air, Each as if a