Reflection jan feb 2016 by Reflection W&R Mag

EDITORIAL.....................................................................................................................................1 Aparna Mukherjee THE NEW YEAR TIME.................................................................................................................2 Areen Abukishek MYSELF AND THE OTHER ME.................................................................................................3 Jen Walls & Dr. Ram Sharma DUET POEM...................................................................................................................................5 Charles Darnell RESOLVE.........................................................................................................................................6 Bishwadeep Ghosh Hazra ANTICIPATION..............................................................................................................................7 POEMS BY EUNICE BARBARA C NOVIS.................................................................................9 Jonali Karmakar BLURRED LINES..........................................................................................................................12 Monak Dutta NEW YEAR'S EVE.........................................................................................................................23 Anca Mihaela Bruma COMPOSER OF THE WIND......................................................................................................24 Ruchi Chopra RESOLUTION...............................................................................................................................25 Fahnid Hassan MOVIE REVIEW...........................................................................................................................28 Neelam I WANT TO FLY HIGH WITHOUT WINGS.........................................................................32 POEMS BY ALICJA MARIA KUBRESKA.................................................................................36 Rajni Sinha A NEW BEGINNING...................................................................................................................43 Iram Fatima 'Ashi' INTERVIEW OF THE MONTH.................................................................................................44 Ruchi Chopra RAINS: A MYSTIQUE PARAPHRASED...................................................................................52 Elizabeht Esguerra Castillo A NEW FRONTIER......................................................................................................................64 POEMS BY RITU SURI................................................................................................................65

Elizabeht Esguerra Castillo WHY DO I WRITE?..........................................................................................................67 Praveen Gola OUR PROMISE...................................................................................................................69 MOMENTS CAPTURED BY KRISHNA BISHNOI......................................................70 POEMS FROM UZBEKISTAN.........................................................................................76 Tapan Ghosh WHY I CAN'T WIPE?.......................................................................................................80 Dr. Sonia Gupta NEW YEAR RESOLUTION..............................................................................................81 POEMS BY SHAHID KHAN............................................................................................83 UNDER FIFTEEN ZONE..................................................................................................85 A NEW BEGINNING: PAINTINGS BY RAJ VERMA...................................................86

Chairman Brian Wrixon (USA)

Advisory Board Members Angie Blake (USA) Elizabeth E Castillo (Philippines) Marilyn R. Ca単ete (Philippines) Sharique Jamal (India) Charles Darnell (USA)

Editorial Board Associate Editors Editor In Chief Iram Fatima 'Ashi' (NRI, Saudi Arabia) Dr. Ruchida Barman (India) Dr. Ratan Bhattacharjee (India) Dr. Indira Babbellapati (India) Editor Dr. Ram Sharma (India) Vasanthi Papu (India) Jonali Karmakar (India) Dr. Sahab Uddin (India) Arnab Neogi (India) Art Section Research Editor & Magazine Coordinator Art Director Dr. Priyanka Mathur (India) Raj Verma (India) Research Director Associate Art Directors Ruchi Chopra (NRI, USA) Piyush Kumar (India) Neelam (India)

Dear Readers, Wishing Happy New Year 2016 to all our readers, writers and artists. It's a time to reflect on the changes we want or need to make and resolve to follow through on those changes. I am sharing few resolutions, promises, dreams and expectations for this beginning phase of life and year through poetry, short stories, articles and paint brush of our writers and artists. Interview of a young poet/writer/editor Mr. Carlos Luis will be inspiring for our next budding writers. I am sure that while entering into fourth creative year of Reflection, all of you will find it interesting and give your valuable feedback to inspire our creative team. My heartfelt humble thanks to Chairman of advisory board Mr. Brian Wrixon and other members, Editor Ms Vasanthi Papu and all associate editors, Art head Mr. Raj Verma and all artists, research director Ms. Ruchi Chopra, research director and magazine coordinator Ms. Priyanka Mathur, page layout makers Mr. Kumar Vikrant and his team for their complete support. Have a creative and blessed year ahead.

Beginning The first cry after birth, a beginning towards life, The first fall after crawl, you stand up and walk, A push from behind, to make you run fast, Is the sign ofbeginning and inspiration to move on. A betrayal from loved one, a realization ofrelationships, An enemy who hurts, a support ofloving friends, A failure ofhard work, an added craving for lost goal, Is the sign ofbeginning and inspiration to move on. Set your aim oflife and rush to get your purpose, Life is not an achievement , it is a learning process, A journey that makes you travel and takes you for a toss, Is the sign ofbeginning and inspiration to move on.

Love

Iram Fatima â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;Ashiâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;

(Editor In Chief) Saudi Arabia (NRI)

The time has come To blow the candles ofglum As, it is the moment To feast and jubilate For, here are the hours To fill the shades ofcolors So, all zing up and cheer In the vibrant eve ofnew year. The time has come To buoy up and welcome With goblet ofwine Hoping to brightly shine In the ensuing year Breaking the shackle Ofall the unknown fear. The time has come To raise a toast Savour the pleasure And make the most The music beats That float around The ring ofnew year bells With a melodious sound. The time has come To grab the smiles Catch hold ofthe butterflies Ofthe pleasant times Bid adieu the yesteryear Greet with all your heart The glorious new year. The time has come To blow the lazy flakes Throw confetti and cut the cake Bring people close Who are so dear Wish them all A blessed and a prosperous new year!

Once there was a black rose with no more than a cynical facade that lay hiding a corrupted soul that was tainted to its core.Yet it appeared to me like a majestic perpetual gift, destined to become my friend, to whom I would share my ardent desires to embark on what seemed the dauntless life and commence upon its unknown voyages. Though my sedative was love toward this rose, I grew stronger by each passing moment in time and I even felt as if I have been injected with a small smidgen of whimsical fantasy.It came so fervently, yet seemed so far from being real too.Those feeble days came near as if to cast a curse upon me that I find you will have to now protect me somehow - till death do us apart. For you are my angelic rose, and day after day you came to my rescue and yet why do I now feel so empty from within? It is only the ticking of morose time that still approaches me inside of a suffocative wave. I am forever enchanted it seems with the sheer vigorous presence of you, where I lay prone to make myself tremble and crumple into a depressed state of loneliness.

In my lonely insanity, are you a manipulative puppet which came into my life to offer me my fake rescue? However funny and strange this may seem, I see the tape of my reminiscence running free in front of your eyes and I have to keep holding my own trembling hand so very closely. If to see into my icy heart that should try and melt the markings of all my mistakes that I just won`t forgive myself. Thus, I just realize I can’t stand the agony which comes to swamp me deep in my own heart.As time passes so slowly, my life becomes more and more prone to obey my tender rosy rose. It is the rose who takes care of me in so many ways,especially through all ironic melancholic phases which constantly come hunting me down. These days draw near inside, and they need to be forgotten now and forever.Nevertheless, I keep my rose within me, and all this time and I feel that I need to return the favor somehow too. Becoming her constant companion, Myself – and the Other Me, means that I am surely her forever friend – living inside every kindness of need – now and for the rest of my life; finding everything I am looking for within the inner flower of time.

HEART'S GARDEN BEAUTY AND TRUTH A DUET POEM Jen Walls and Dr. Ram Sharma

Jen Walls is an international author/poet who brings love inside ofjoyful heart’s radiance; pulsating deep within a natural personality ofrare positivity. Her first solo collection ofpoems, The Tender Petals, released November 2014, through inner child press, ltd. USA. Her second collection, OM Santih Santih Santih, joined to combine natural spiritual poetry with co-author, Dr. Ram Sharma ofMeerut, U. P. India, released November 2015 through The Poetry Society of India. Jen’s peace-filled poems vibrate within global print/electronic journals and renowned world peace anthologies from the USA, India, Africa and Europe. She’s a devoted nature lover, ceremonial vocalist, and dedicated care advocate for elderly and youth causes. Jen lives in Saint Paul, MN with her husband and two sons.

Feel beauty's blessing open to share - light ofsoul; giving love's goodness Open joy's splendor blossom heart - breathe soulful care whisper with flowers Unfold touch ofgrace heart's tenderness reveals peace; living with love Dance bliss-attitude feel soul shine with heart's clear lake; reflecting oneness Share all gratitude treasure house ofspirit glows; growing heart's garden Beauty and truth present everywhere inside the firmament Beauty has many forms so many pure dimensions shining so pure - shine light for all Reflecting in the midnight stars present in the flowers as fragrance. Beauty comes living in the eyes ofthe Beholder Beauty with truth - Almighty lives shining as one Satyam - Shivam - Sundaram Beauty with Truth Shiv gives welfare for all (Lord Shiva)

Dr. Ram Sharma is an accomplished poet and writer; writing in English and Hindi. He uplifts many within his magnetic appeal inside the field ofpoetry and literature. With a dedicated personality, he’s spiritually driven and utilizesmany gifts achieved within his studies, lifework and world travels. He has written for research papers, articles, poems and reviews and has been published within esteemed journals, magazines and newspapers throughout India and abroad. Sharma’s literary works appear in prominent web journals, foreign e-journals and magazines. He has produced the following poetry volumes respectfully: Muse (2002), Serene Moments (2008), A String of Words (2009), Poets for World Peace - Volumes 1 and 2 (2010), Anthologies 1 (2011), Lamp of Love (2015), OM santih santih santih (2015, co-author). Dr. Ram Sharma is presently an Associate Professor in English at J. V.P. G. College, Baraut, Baghpat, U. P. , India; He is also the Editor-in-Chiefoftwo international publishing journals: RUMINATIONS and GLIMPSES. Contact Dr. Ram Sharma: dr. ramsharma786@gmail. com

Resolve

Charles Darnell (USA) How strange for each new year to begin in the middle ofwinter. It seems spring would be the better time, when new life pushes through the detrius ofdeath. A time ofnew beginnings, when flowers' scent covers like a warm blanket and birds renew ancient song. I too am renewed and hereby resolve to listen with new ears, see with new eyes, taste each morsel in my mouth. I will feel with touch intently, imprint each moment, stamped in the convolutions ofmy brain. These are the tools ofthe poet, I mean to use them.

Anjali mechanically repeated every word after Harsh, “What is magic?” “It is making people believe something which is not true” “What is truth?” “It is science, the pillars on which magic stands”…

“We have to do something extraordinary, something out of the box”, said Harsh to his boisterous wife Anjali. Anjali, ever cheerful and excited spoke with her hands stretched as if she had had enough of her husband’s planning, she asked Harsh not to worry as she already had a plan going on in her mind. Anjali and Harsh were magicians and they were not doing very well financially; they had to discover something which would help stabilize themselves in life; and they were already behind schedule. Harsh and Anjali performed at various places and stages and they could feel the pulse of the people that they wanted something new, as they were bored seeing the same clichéd tricks over and over again. Anjali mechanically repeated every word after Harsh, “What is magic?” “It is making people believe something which is not true” “What is truth?” “It is science, the pillars on which magic stands”… Today was an important day for the newlywed couple as this day marked the beginning of the tryst between them-so Harsh desperately wanted to try something new today. Even Anjali’s cheerful, optimistic, bubbly and lively nature was not helping Harsh; he was always trapped into a never ending abyss of thoughts about their future, about their magic’s future.

It was evident she could not untie herself- the audience went into a shock, paralyzed with sheer fear. Harsh could think of nothing- his mind went blank as he anticipated the worst, he kept murmuring about the type of knot he tied on her , did he mistakenly tie the wrong knot? Was it even remotely possible? It was their sacrosanct, their secret… “Nooooo…”- Harsh cried out beating the thick glass wall with his bare hands, at an instant the audience present there gasped out in shock, some crying out seeing the situation at hand, some covering their eyes and mouth in anticipation about what was going to happen next. At that moment it seemed fate had brought Anjali to the confluence of life and death. Harsh desperately began a frantic search and from the backstage brought out a steel rod; his purpose was to strike the glass wall and he did.

At that moment it seemed fate had brought Anjali to the confluence oflife and death. Harsh desperately began a frantic search and from the backstage brought out a steel rod; his purpose was to strike the glass wall and he did.

Anjali’s limp body fell on the ground after Harsh broke the glass cuboid after a great upheaval; hurriedly Harsh took Anjali by her head and arms and gave her a full CPR, but in vain. Minutes went on and all the audience was stunned and dumbfounded when suddenly Anjali threw her arms upwards and shouted “7 minutes 49 seconds ladies and gentlemen!!! Thank you for watching our new trick!” and the audience roared out with applause and cheering. Even Harsh got the biggest shock of his life. Anjali lying on Harsh’s lap spoke softly, almost whispering, “I told you I had a plan”, and closed her eyes.

Eunice Barbara C. Novio, is a lecturer at Vongchavalitkul University in Nakhon Ratchasima, Thailand. She is a Filipino. She writes for the Global Pinoy Section of the Philippine Daily Inquirer. She completed her first book published by Aquirelle, Maps ofDreams and Memories.Her poems are published in various local and international anthologies.

I am starting my journey I have prepared my life When the Omnipresent having Chosen me and prepared me To face the beauty ofthe World and the challenges It would offer. I am on my way, A young person With nothing but strength and faith To humanity that I would be with, For the next 365 days. Along the way, I meet an old man, He looks sickly and tired, He walks slowly and does Not mind to look back To where he came from. He does not notice me A dashing young person Full ofpride and readiness. So, I greet him. He is startled, surprised; In his eyes I see tears Ofsadness and regrets. He shakes his head and mumbles. I stop and talk to him.

“Where are you going, old man?” “I am leaving, ” says he. “And you?” he asks. “I am going there, ” Pointing to the place He just left. Then he cries; wails And pleading. “Don’t go my Child, ” Let them on their own, They never care anymore. ” “But I was sent to go there, And will replace you. Isn’t it the cycle?” “No hope, my Child. “They do not care. Humanity Must end. Do not go there. They are self-centered, selfish beings Uncaring ofthe only world they have. They spent time exploring the space, When there are millions starving, And let their world wasted. They are irony, my Child. They kill each other because oftheir Gods, they say. But we know that God does not want it that way. I am giving up my Child. They zapped My strength and all the times I spent I just wept, tore my hair and beard. I would be gone after a while because Nothing is left in my heart. ”

I think for a while, and answer him. â&#x20AC;&#x153;Yes there is. I am young and strong. I have beauty and intelligence to carry On the burdens ofhumanity, â&#x20AC;? I proudly say. The old man shakes his head again. Crying as he goes on his way back To where, I do not know. I am excited to see the Earth and give humanity a chance to love once again, and rectify the wrongs ofthe pasts, to forget and forgive. I come to give hope. Unlike the old man, I am full ofhope I am 2016, And I am a woman.

Jyotsna wakes up even before her mobile sounds the daily alarm. She needs to catch the Canning-Sealdah Up local at 4.32 a.m. as usual. It is her daily routine. Responsibility makes a person alert. It’s the same with her. But she doesn’t understand such things. She’s a simpleton. Her mother used to say that before going to sleep one needed to request the pillow to wake up the person at an assigned time. And the pillow would do just that. Wake one up. Voila, your very personal alarm clock. She picked this trick up from her mother. Before going to sleep she gives strict orders to her too worn out and shabby pillow to wake her up at 2.30 a.m. everyday. She has to wake up at that ungodly hour no matter what. Nowadays, she sets the alarm clock provided in her mobile set as well. You never know when your dependable pillow-clock betrays you. One can never be too careful. Like the last time she thinks. Like last year on the day of Saptami Puja. Not only did she miss the 4.32 local, she had failed to catch the 5.20 local as well. She had to settle for the 7 o’ clock local. She had reached her destination at a quarter to nine. Mukherji Boudi had been red with rage. She had fired Jyotsna on the spot. The latter had fallen on her knees and begged for mercy. She had cried bucketfuls. But when even this hadn’t been enough, Jyotsna had grabbed her hair in fistfuls and hit her head on the doorjamb continuously. Mercifully Dadababu was home. He hated these scenarios. He had taken Boudi to a corner and said something after which she agreed to have Jyotsna back as their domestic aid.

Even Jyotsna didn’t like to resort to these petty methods. But what else could she do? If during the festivals her master sacked her, what would happen to her daughter and husband? There won’t be any bonus. The sari-petticoatblouse package would also slip away. All these thoughts had been reason enough to make her do what she did. Thank the god, it had worked. On Dashami’s eve Boudi had given her a Chinese mobile set along with the puja bonus. It had been Biltu’s. Shabby and discoloured. It went whimsical every now and then. Boudi had taught her to receive and make calls and Biltu had guided her through the steps to set the alarm. Her daughter had been super excited to see the mobile set. She couldn’t believe the size of her smile. It had been like bright white fire crackers in a starless sky. That Durga Puja had been the best ever. But like all good things, it hadn’t lasted for long. That very month Dadababu had received his transfer orders. The Mukherjis were going away to some place called Hadrabaad or something. Before leaving, Boudi had made things additionally difficult for Jyotsna. She said that Biltu wanted five hundred rupees for his mobile set. He wouldn’t take it back though. The set had cost him eight thousand and he had wanted at least two thousand from Jyotsna. Boudi had negotiated on her behalf and lowered the prize to just five hundred. 14

Jyotsna had been taken aback. Dadababu was quite rich and yet his son wanted money from a maid servant! She had pleaded to them but to no avail. Boudi had deducted the said sum from her meager seven hundred and fifty rupees monthly wage. Jyotsna was left with only two hundred and fifty bucks and an elephant of a mobile. Walking down memory lane isn’t Jyotsna’s style. She spares a glance to the clock. 2.55 a.m. There isn’t much time. She takes care of her little hut before turning her attention to the day’s meal. She places a potato, two bottle gourds and a slim, almost translucent slice of pumpkin beside the stove. Then she fills the black bottomed haandi with water and a cup of uncooked rice. Before leaving for school her daughter would finish the cooking and eat along with her father. Her own breakfast consists of a cup of tea and a handful of puffed rice. After the Mukherjis left, Jyotsna got herself a part time job of cleaning and washing at the Kapoors’. Her wage had been doubled but the money wasn’t enough to meet the ends after her husband lost his job. So she took another part time job as a cook six months ago. Her newest employers were decent people. A family of two. Sir and Madam both had jobs in big companies. The work wasn’t much but the payment was good. Madam was way better than Mukherji Boudi. She only insisted on a clean and tidy regimen. They were newly weds and Madam was yet to learn to be a perfect housewife, a ginni. Jyotsna went out of her way and tried to do little things for her new employer. Besides the usual cooking she did some light dusting and cleaning 15

too. This had resulted in an increment without even asking. There was only one condition though. She needed to go to work no matter what. Come rain or shine, her Madam wanted a regular attendance. Jyotsna was only too happy to comply. This new job had additional perks besides the good salary. She was allowed to take home the leftover food—fish, egg, chicken—everything. For Jyotsna this was a dream job and she strived to please her employer. Jyotsna takes another look at the clock and rushes out of her hut. She waits five minutes to see if she could get an auto or a rickshaw. The road is almost empty which is unusual. Thinking she is late, Jyotsna starts walking towards the railway station. Samir has left for office an hour ago. The ruling party has called for a strike. So, four of his colleagues and he are car-pooling for the day. None of the offices are closed. Except for the private vehicles no other mode of transportation is available. It’s an unofficial holiday. Rashi tries to sleep in a little more. Just like her college days. Her mother had to literally drag her out of bed. Her mother isn’t here today but she has lots of initiatives that do not permit her to enjoy the luxury of her cozy bed. Though she is slinking office today, there are several household chores that need her attention. Jyotsna should have arrived by now, but she hasn’t. She must be skiving work under the pretense of the strike. Rashi doesn’t like it. So that she doesn’t have to get involved in the daily chores, she has raised Jyotsna’s salary without her having to ask. She never interferes in the latter’s work. Whatever little Jyotsna does, Rashi accepts

without fuss. She even lets her take food home. And this is how she is repaid! The maid before Jyotsna used to skive a lot. She was bigmouthed too. Rashi couldn’t tolerate it. But what choice did she have? After working for eight straight hours in the office how could anyone expect any more from her? But one fateful day she just couldn’t take it anymore when her maid had started to hurl derogatory expletives at her. That had been the last of her job. Rashi had thrown her out of her house immediately. It had been the hardest week of her life though. She had to take leave from her office even, feigning ill-health. Then she had found Jyotsna. She was okay. But Rashi didn’t take any chances. She treated her with utmost caution. She has come to understand this class well. No matter how much perks are allowed, these domestic helps remain disloyal. Rashi leaves her room grudgingly. Her eyes sweep over the scene before her. And at the sight her heart takes the elevator to the basement. Everything’s a mess. There’s a fine layer of dust on the furniture. The kitchen sink is overflowing. Then there is the laundry. Her head goes all wobbly. She doesn’t know where to start from. She gets extremely angry with Jyotsna. She’d thought that she would relax a bit and sleep the whole day in some sort of lazy stupor. Not a chance anymore. Jyotsna has ruined everything. Now she’d have to slave the entire day. Her mother’s wise words come to her mind: domestic helps are like vices to the middleclass. They can neither be kept nor discarded.

Rashi tries to collect herself and start with the chores. She decides to sweep the floor and dust the furniture but there is no way that she is going to scrub and mop the rooms. Bending over to mop for so long would definitely give her sever backache. Then there is cooking. Khichdi and papadâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;it would have to suffice. She stares at her perfectly manicured hands and her heart squeezes with dismay. She overlooks the kitchen sink with the dirty dishes. She steels her heart and covers up the mess so that roaches do not come scurrying and have a field day. At least Samir isnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t fussy about anything, she reminds herself. Anything to get her mind off the Herculean task before her. But then what has he to fuss over, Rashi muses. He doesnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t have to do anything. All he does is goes to the office and comes back. But not her. She has to juggle her professional and personal life all along. At times it seems to her that their family is only her responsibility and she alone has to brave the associated storms. Samir never bothers himself with any of it. She tries very hard to act normally and not crumple into a gibbering wreck but in her exhaustion the misery of it all rears up in front of her in a kaleidoscope of anger and resentment. She has finally come up against the edge of emotional enervation 18

Rashi checks her watch and relaxes. She has reached office in record time. The peon has left some files on her desk. Yesterday’s work. The so-called strike hadn’t affected the schedule of her office. Almost everyone had come yesterday. Only three other women had been absent from work besides her. This piece of information fills her chest with a sick, drafty sensation. But what could she do? How could she have come when none of the buses, trams or the metro was running? Surely her boss didn’t expect her to come on foot! She doesn’t own a car. Samir has applied for a loan but it hasn’t been sanctioned yet. Anyway, even that wouldn’t have solved anything because there would’ve been one car but two destinations on two different poles. Rashi needs a car of her own. Ergo she too needs to apply for a loan. 19

Her internal monologue comes to a standstill when she is summoned to her bossâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; cabin. She feels something cool seeping behind her breastbone. Her boss is very demanding. He has very low tolerance for his staff or their pathetic lives. Everybody tries to maintain a safe distance from him. Now Rashi has to face him. In her frustration over Jyotsna she had forgotten to inform of her absence. It is a crime here. One has no right to remain absent without notifying the office. Her colleague, Jaya, from the accounts department had told her of a guy once. He was pretty much absent every other month without notice. He had been sacked for his offence on the fourth occasion. Of course it is her first offence. She is hoping for some measure of leniency. She regrets not notifying and curses Jyotsna once again. The latter hasnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t come for work today as well. But Rashi had no option. She has left her house in a mess. Jyotsna would have to clean everything when she came. Her mother said that the more convenience one provided to these low-lives, the more brazen they became. She is absolutely right. Jyotsna too has it easyâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;does a little something but collects more money than she deserves.

Rashi is in an emotional soup when she pushes into the air-conditioned, carpeted quiet and faces her boss. After giving directions to the driver, Rashi closes her eyes and rests her aching head on the plush headrest. She has never traveled these roads before today. But it doesn’t appear unknown to her. She had heard a lot from Jyotsna so much so that she had images to go with the description. Perhaps that is the reason it seems familiar even on a first visit. Of course nature is uniform, she muses philosophically. Trees, grass, sky, earth—it’s all the same everywhere and for everyone. She peeks outside again and watches with admiration as everything rushes past in a blur. As if all the entities are in a hurry to become one and get fused together. The mighty tree and the weak sapling; the hills and the pebbles—all fusing without distinction. Rashi feels very inconsequential as though she were a mere speck of dust. She has been quite proud of her upbringing and the way her life has turned out. Education, job, family—she has it all just like she has always wanted. But today all of it has been maligned to nothing. The minute she had stepped inside her boss’ cabin, she had understood that she was in grave peril. Her boss had been very angry. His voice, thin and harsh, frightened her. Needles of panic prickled her chest. She hadn’t been alone mercifully. The other three absentee were there sharing in her humiliation. Just like she had been dealing with Jyotsna all this while, Rashi found herself at the receiving end of her employer’s wrath. The difference was, Jyotsna had been absent while she was lashed at but Rashi was very much present in person when

her boss took out his anger. She had been dumbfounded. She wondered who had given this sort of right to anyone for meting out such humiliation. A phone call at the precise moment had spared them any further reprimand. The three women filed out in a hurry leaving Rashi rooted on her spot. She would have escaped too but her boss had stopped her short. He needed her to run an errand for him. The request was merely an order and Rashi had to comply. The phone call had been from the boss’ wife. She had a kitty party in progress but the maid hadn’t come in yet. She was distressed and nagged to her husband to end the dilemma. Now her boss wanted Rashi to play escort and bring in the maid with all due respect. Those had been his exact words. The previous day’s effort to boycott the strike has disrupted life for those living in the suburbs. Especially those of the domestic helpers as they live in far flung areas. The local train wasn’t available for the day as the rail tracks had been removed in several locations as a punishment for not abiding with the ruling party’s orders. Jyotsna feels numb as the car whizzes past the known roads of Kolkata into the unknown. Her destination is none other than Jyotsna’s humble abode in some discreet hutment. 22

New year's Eve has come again Like it had come to my lane Every year with its beauty and grace New year's Eve is another dress, The chill in the air is like a song It sings for me only happiness Though I know there is sadness around But how can I forget Your blessing? it was You who told me soft Life is just a choice one makes And now that I have chosen to write Make me wear Your snowy flakes, I would be then that grand old man And would sing a song for you You would sit beside the fireplace And tell me your worldly view, How you struggled with your life How it hurt when you lost your way How once you thought oftaking a dive Into the dark , from a long long quay, Then you would tell me about your love Love that shone like a star lit sky And you would tell me how with doves You chose to bid your nights goodbye, I would then talk about mine, A traveler with only the wish to write I would tell you how Auld Lang Syne Gave me oft those fanciful flights, I would sing for you and all I would sing the New Year's Eve You would say then 'we are blessed' And I would say 'Come, let's live'.

I am Romanian living in Dubai/UAE. My love for poetry started when I was just 9 years old. I decided to start writing again in January 2014, and it came to me like an “explosion” - it is like the pen “writes” me not the other way around - and I just know, all these years ofcrystallization came into fruit right now, in a concentrated manner full ofhidden meanings and layer after layer. Like an “architect” ofa language I “build” a language within a language, a universe within another universe using vivid imagery, sometimes surreal, giving to the poetry a transcending feeling. My “lyrical writings”, as I like to call them, are more kind ofa spiritual autobiography, depicting a reality behind all forms, with no space and time, a quantum view ofexistence. Right now, I see the writing as a form ofbeing present inside the language, a paradigm ofliving which is encoded in the message itself, like a poetic consciousness with a spherical view ofthings, life, and love. For me writing now is more related with the realization ofthe greater self, beyond the mundane and well known laws ofthe society, as an expression ofboth the rational and the intuitive, in a concise form ofpoetry, increasing the awareness with new meanings expanded.

Composers Of The Wind I changed from G to E minor, to remember the person I used to be... writing stories within valleys ofmy Heart... so... it may rhyme with your ballad... I played the piano notes ofmy Life, pianissimo to crescendo, an allegro oftwo hearts, a pitched melody ofelectric kisses... I built secret bridges between our eyesight, like a clandestine translation ofour kingdoms, a cadence ofour silence... We are composers ofthe Wind, playing ultra-violet sound... still counting for a lost star, singing the unspoken Time!...

Why the world need resolutions? Why I need resolutions? I’m not skeptical for ‘keepsake’ resolutions I’m not hypocrite either, to make resolutions with countless hashtags on condescending issues, intolerance, hatred, prejudices, terrorism and unjust ways oflife, claiming to know the deeper significance other than the keepsakeones for other halves, naked truths, embittered conscience embalmed under sickly sweet salve celebrating peace, harmony, equality and unity in diversity. Why do I have to make resolutions? for them for myself, for you, for them, for myself, again and again. When I have kept none? When you have kept none? When we have kept none? I’m talking about resolutions, crucial ones, It’s not about the countless decrees, proclamations and promises, or about bringing big changes for big issues, that the world is facing today. I often have to take a leap offaith, to break the shackles, for doing ‘something’ to doing ‘nothing’, and from doing ‘nothing’ to doing ‘something’.

Why do I have to make resolutions? When I would behave like a mere spectator, a perpetrator on the stage ofworld affairs? when my voice counts, when my existence counts, when my vote counts, I would still be numb with all pervasive chaos hitting me daily from every walk oflife. To escape that ounce ofguilt, I would often end up, taking a walk to the downtown Riverside Bridge, to think and reflect on the choices ofthe passing year, and to stay up whole night, with dizzy eyes to watch the fading afterglows, Prophesying merriment, laughter, life, celebrations and being alive! For me, these have become just the charade, to awaken my numb conscience on Every passing year eve, when I stand braving windy breeze, on the same downtown Riverside Bridge, to usher into another new year day, without much hullabaloo, making amendsfor bygone seconds, hopeful for another scrubbed up slate bearing no hashtag(s), but a blank gaze resembling my blank stare, ofdizzy eyes and fragile conscience. To be able to see vanishing stars and welcome fresh mornings, fragrant with lush opportunities chirping ofrestless birds and lull ofseagulls at pier. As my heart yearns for fresh cup of hot chamomileand lavender tea.

The noise ofwater fills my senses the water seems still and frozen resembling nascent hopes and dreams. The water beneath my feet is slipping by, like handful ofsand in the hourglass, Alas! sighs, panicked stares and restless spirits dawns on me. Riverside Bridge stood sturdy, cobalt color water would often turn pale and gather momentous speed, charging and disguising itselfas, an abysmal reality humanity is in peril. Awakening suffused all venomous thoughts, churns up the knotted feelings into a mendicant Gordian knot I have to accept, this bittersweet reality of oflife Unless, I wish upon the star secretly once more, on the new year eve, standing here on the downtown Riverside Bridge, assuringmy fragile self never to make any resolutions for myselfever again, for you or for us, or forthem, but to make amends timely, not just for the keepsake. not just for the keepsake.

‘’When Marnie was There” is a priceless anime movie that makes imagination grow so unexpectedly. The movie is based on a children’s novel of the same name by Joan G. Robinson. According to viable sources, the founder of the extremely-famous Studio Ghibli, Hayao Miyazaki selected this book as one of his fifty highly recommended children's books plus it has also won the Carnegie Medal too. It also has one of the world-renowned Studio Ghibli directors, Hiromasa Yonebayashiat the helm with the movie’s directing. By far, it’s one of the best and latest works coming from the Studio Ghibli. Within an intrinsic plot, the movie is about a girl who is an introvert; friendless and tired of life and who lives under the care of one of her foster aunts. The girl’s aunt becomes aware of her asthma problem; and takes her to live in the countryside where she comes to meet up with such a mysterious girl of about her same age - who is also friendless like her. Who is she? Is she a ghost or is she only within the girl’s imagination?

This movie pays great homage to both the old Disney films and the works of the previous Studio Ghibli’s films. I must say, it is a movie that spreads itself out in a simple but very impactful emotional message within the movie’s script too. It is a must watch for all ages of both children and adults. The dubbing work is most masterful and surrenders beautifully to uphold the same quality of essence as many of the other Studio Ghibli works too. With beautiful visuals, the movie remains long within by still coming into my mind afterward with such ease. Feel only praises coming inside because this movie lends within so well in all its refined components and there is not much room to criticize it because its simple concepts live large to meet every step within entertainment unfolding with its visuals and power-pack of lot of twists and unexpected turns that unfold within this story. The performance of the voice actors is also rendered so superbly within these beautiful and memorable performances. It’s really quite unique, in every respect and this same magic cannot often be repeated within film. Once again, there are a lot of movies like these but this film comes through asvery awesome and stands on its own, despite the many differences from the books. These emotional touches make for quality that is never foreshadowedinside the unfolding events on the display screen throughout this movie. “Friendship is such… that people cannot live without it

and it will become cherished within your memories, as always”. If you love yourself, you will also love others and making friends is not only a thing that one must do but it also a powerful bond that if true… can make anyone come into heart’s completion within. Recommendations:

• A Beautiful Mind • Grave of the Fire flies • Spirited Away • Bajrangi Bhaijaan • Colors of Paradise • Kite Runner

Help

Alicja Maria Kuberska – poet, writer, publisher. She was born in 1960, in Świebodzin, Poland. Currently, she lives in Inowrocław, Poland. In 2011 she published her first volume of poems entitled: “The Glass Reality”. Her second volume “ Analysis of Feelings”, was published in 2012. The third collection “ Moments” was published in English both in Poland and in the USA in 2014. She also published the volume in Polish entitled “ On the Border of Dream” and a novel entitled “ Virtual Roses”. Next year her volume entitled:” Girl in the mirror” was published in the United Kingdom and two volumes entitled “ Love me “and “(Not) my poem” were published in the United States . Her poems have been published in numerous anthologies and magazines in Poland, USA, UK, Canada, India, Italy, Isreal and Australia. In addition, her poems are read on various radio programs in Poland and Belgium. She was a featured poet of New Mirage Journal ( USA) in the summer of 2011. Her poem” train” was nominated for the Pushcart Prize in 2011.In the 2014, her poem “ In the attic” was mentioned in the international competition Nosside. Next year her poem entitled “ Thief of dreams” won the medal on this Italian competition and her poem “ Dance on the dew” was nominated for the Pushcart Prize. She was a featured poet in the magazine ”The year of the poet II” in march 2015. She wrote also a few plays for the theater, a lot of interviews for Polish and American magazines and newspapers. Alicja is a member of the Polish Writers Associations in Warsaw, Poland.

I rise above the limits ofimagination, Soar over the horizon On the border ofthe sky, the earth, the sea. Fear has no meaning for me. I am no-one and everyone, Transparent and elusive. Wind carries me. It can turn from the light blast into tornado. I am not a bird, do not break my wings. There will be forces to cross the skies. I cut the Gordian knots with a sword And release myselffrom the mundane affairs. I am as an antique Nike

I know, you are tired. And that old ships should not sail On the rough waters. It is time to hide within the harbor walls While we tell your story to the children And the crowds ofvisitors. Sometimes itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s only the cry ofthe gulls That will remind you ofdays gone bye. Then you will miss the crashing waves, The salty smell and crazy ocean

The Long, Winding Road We should die To be born again. We must burn In the ocean offlames, Like the mythical Phoenix. Our life shuts some doors And opens the next ones. It is like a long, Winding road. It is impossible to go back. We must walk ahead, Right to the end

Let the tears flow. You have the right to emotions. Joy and sorrow sculpt your face. Lookâ&#x20AC;Ś How thin are the borders Between love and hate, Sensitivity and indifference. Life and death come together On the road oftime. Tired wanderer. You pull the baggage ofexperiences - Stumble and fall down. Feelings tend to be heavier than stones. Forgive the past, Get up and move on

The morning brings new promises. Look The rising sun drives out the darkness Strokes purring cats and wakes up flowers. Wind dances in the leaves And arranges images ofwhite clouds. Listen Birds whistle tunes Written on staves ofbranches. Bees gently buzz. Crickets softly play serenades. For you The air smells ofhoney And the sky is smiling With all colors ofthe rainbow. Night hides Yesterday's sorrows and worries In oblivion. Forgive, forget

Creativity requires a bit ofmadness, Beyond the proven patterns. It's easy to become a prisoner ofhabits Make pale copies ofconsecutive days And drown in the foreseeable boredom. Understanding needs some risk Abandoning certainty for uncertainty, Exchanging ofproven solutions for dreams. Curiosity leads to hell or discoveries. We need love and support - Just like air to breathe Passions add piquancy to days. Intense experiences enlighten memories. Complaining does not change anything. Self-pity draws in the sense of Hopelessness and helplessness.

I drink from the cup ofyour longing. The energy ofthoughts gives flavor. I absorb the sadness, bitterness, And sense a little bit ofhope That it may not always be the case. Once the cup is empty - Pour another type ofwine! Meet the sweetness ofgrapes And sun-ripened expectations. Life has got not only a bitter taste And is not made ofduty's signposts. Somewhere in the wall ofhopelessness There is a hidden gateway to the Garden ofEden. Remember, it is never closed

Some days have gone Some days will come The years will come and go The days that went wore a mix ofcolours The eye had seen rainbows . A tear had dropped A smile had propped Some hearts had broken too ; The earth did not but come to an end I saw it and so did you A new begining is now to be made As we tread on paths untrodden The moon will set and the sun would rise And meet the earth at the horizon. The rains will come to quench the parched The stars would shine in the dark Then let man also loose no heart The last race hasn't been run There's still a lot to bring There's still a lot to be brought There's still a lot which is yours to be called There"s still a lot unborn So lose no heart So pick up the threads bring back that ,which was lost Do start afresh Do begin anew and live your life to the last.

43 43

Interview Of The Month By Iram Fatima 'Ashi'

Carlos Luis (Goa, India) Carlos Luis, young emerging writer, was born and brought up in a hamlet called Varca, Goa. His determination in whatever he does has proved him successful. He is a topper in English literature from Loyola College, Chennai. Presently he is a freelance journalist, book reviewer, blogger, poet, and short story writer. He took into writing when his debut short story titled, “Twin Triumphs,” was published by ‘The Hindu’ newspaper. He writes whatsoever touches his heart and makes a lasting impression on him. Recently, his short stories and poems have been published in many bestselling anthologies. He has also written for magazines and journal like, “Rally,” “Smart Companion,” “Mother News,” “Vision,” and “Prabodhana” respectively. He is also the winner ofthe title ‘Mr. Agnelite 2008’ from Fr. Agnel Higher Secondary School Pilar, Goa. He has been a strong agent ofchange by his provocative write ups in the local newspapers in Goa. He has an intrinsic quality to make friends easily and treasure memories deep down in his heart. He is a lover ofnature.

Ashi: Greetings to you Carlos Luis! At the outset, on behalfof‘Reflection Magazine’, I would like to thank you for accepting my request to interview you. Tell ussomething about the place you belong to, your childhood and education.

I started writing basically when I was in eighth standard for a competition organized by SVD Fathers. I wrote a poem on friendship and believe me I won the third place. I didn’t really take on to professional writing but occasionally took to writing when I wanted to express my heart.

Carlos: I come from a very religious and devout family. Unlike what is portrayed in movies about Goa, it is a place of strong faith in God, love, serenity and peace. It is a place where people care for one another. My childhood in Goa was the best I can remember, especially the time I spent with my friends and schooling back then in St. Pius X Convent High School, Orlim, Goa, from first standard till seventh standard and from eight to tenth standard at St. Joseph’s Educational Institute Chandor, Goa. It was enriching and supportive of what I am today. I owe lots to my institutions where I first did my studies not forgetting Fr. Agnel Higher Secondary School Pilar, Goa, where I did my 11th and 12th Standard. I grew as a public speaker, writer, once in a while singer, and most of all Master Of Ceremonies for about 17+ occasions. Ashi: That’s great! Please share your writing experience - the age you started writing and what inspires you to write.

Carlos: I started writing basically when I was in eighth standard for a competition organized by SVD Fathers. I wrote a poem on friendship and believe me I won the third place. I didn’t really take on to professional writing but occasionally took to writing when I wanted to express my heart. Professional writing came after a long process of such attempts. I really started professionally after my debut short story got published. So mine was a gradual development into a writer that I am today. Regarding my inspiration, I write about things that affect me personally, I also write about stories that my heart feels need attention. Moreover I am a reflective writer. Ashi: That is really interesting. Kindly tell us something about any other hobby ofyours.

Carlos: Acting is one of my hobbies, I love to act. Getting into another character, knowing about that character and displaying that emotion is my passion. I have acted in many plays like ‘Sganarelle’, a play by Moliere in the lead role and also in ‘The Pie and the Tart’ by Hugh Chesterman in our annual day celebrations. Ashi: Great! However, poetry or prose is a medium to express one’s inner feelings. Is there any specific moment or event that made you write?

Carlos: Yes, as I have said earlier, it affected me when something went wrong around me. I would take on to writing to heal myself from the hurt caused due to a quarrel with my friends and so on. But today I realize that it was the best option I took rather than retaliating. Today, writing has become so much a part of me that when I read a newspaper it inspires me to write, when I observe the nature around me, it inspires me to write. And writing just happens. 45

Ashi: What is your favorite topic to write on? And do you have a specific writing style?

Carlos: I love writing about life, gender and relationships, literature and the list is endless. I take on to conversational style most often because I want my readers to involve in what I write. But occasionally I also switch to descriptive and narrative style because that keeps me entertaining as well as informing the reader. Ashi: Would you like to share something about your personal life with our readers to know you more closely?

Carlos: Certainly, I am presently studying for my priesthood and pursuing my second year theology at Prabodhana, Pallottine Centre for theological and Religious Formation, Mysuru, Karnataka, India. I dream to be a winner of hearts for Christ. My dream is also to train children in the path of knowledge and give the youth a sense of purpose in their lives. Ashi: Who is your favorite writer/poet?

Carlos: My favorite writers are Jane Austen, J.K. Rowling, Salman Rushdie, Agatha Christie, Jhumpa Lahiri, Kiran Desai, R.K. Narayan, Arundathi Roy and Rabindranath Tagore. My favourite poets are Pablo Neruda, Robert Frost, Walt Whitman, William Blake, John Keats, Samuel Taylor Coleridge and Fr. G.M. Hopkins. 46

I take on to conversational style most often because I want my readers to involve in what I write. But occasionally I also switch to descriptive and narrative style because that keeps me entertaining as well as informing the reader.

Ashi: According to you, what are the most important elements ofgood writing?

Carlos: The most important element in good writing is that you involve your whole self into what you are writing. One must focus on the theme one has chosen to write upon and follow the three C’s which I always prefer to follow; Clarity, Concision, and Correctness (Grammatical I mean!). Follow this and you will have a masterpiece created. One must focus on the theme one has chosen to write upon and follow the three C’s which I always prefer to follow; Clarity, Concision, and Correctness (Grammatical I mean!). Follow this and you will have a masterpiece created.

Ashi: Very well said. Did you always have full appreciation and support for your talent in writing?

Carlos: Yes, from my parents’ side I received full appreciation. Perhaps they did so because they wanted me never to give up. I also received negative reviews but I took them as opinions for my growth. Because I always believe that failures are stepping stones to success. I take everything in good spirit, whether it is appreciation or criticism, and that is what has kept me climbing this ladder of success. Ashi: Nice to know about this. According to you, which poem and short story ofyours is your masterpiece? Kindly share any of your poems which is close to your heart.

Carlos: I am yet to create a masterpiece Ashi because I always feel, after I write something that that is the best I have written. So perfection for me happens everyday. Nevertheless I love the first short story I had written and got it published by one of India’s leading newspaper, “The Hindu,” the title 47

of the story is, â&#x20AC;&#x153;Twin Triumphs.â&#x20AC;? Poem Close to my heart:

CALM SILENCE I a loner Spied through the pigeon hole A dead street Silenced school Speeding rickshaw And a thoughtfully pedaling cycler Returning home At the end ofit all Two heavily dressed but shabby men Carrying debris.

(It is close to my heart because in this poem I speak of the silence which is not silence actually. I speak of the aftermath of war and violence. I grieve for the loss of innocent lives in the many places of war and violence.)

Ashi: Such a power packed piece. According to you what is the best thing about being an author and poet?

Carlos: Best thing about being an author and poet is that you learn to observe situations around you. You can also penetrate into the minds of your audience although not accurately. And you have numerous followers on social networking sites who keep your life forever active and engaged. Ashi: Kindly share how did you get all these opportunities and how you feel on being internationally recognized by your creations?

Thank you for taking your time Ashi and interviewing me. I had a great time answering your questions. It made me realize what I have become and what I must do to perfect myself.

Carlos: Frankly speaking I looked out for every opportunity and made the best out of it, after all, opportunities knock at the door just once. I did not worry about my failure; having an open mind to learn, I just gave a try to everything that knocked my way. Well, thus to be internationally recognized for my creations I feel good and thankful as well to my readers for accepting my writing as dear and sweet. Ashi: What advice would you give to emerging writers and poets?

Carlos: Make the best of everything around you. Read aplenty because that is what gives one the click to write and to learn to write. Ashi: So true. Give your opinion on Reflection magazine and would you like to give any advice for improvement.

Carlos: I feel Reflection Magazine is doing pretty good and quite responsive. So go ahead with the same zeal and enthusiasm. Thank you for taking your time Ashi and interviewing me. I had a great time answering your questions. It made me realize what I have become and what I must do to perfect myself.

The following are the links of my anthologies 1. Checkmate Anthology

http://www.amazon.in/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&fieldkeywords=checkmate+anthology+carlos+luis&rh=n%3A976389031%2Ck%3Acheckmate+anthol ogy+carlos+luis 2. Colours ofLife

http://www.pustakmandi.com/colors-of-life?search=colors%20of%20life 3. Lifenama

http://www.amazon.in/s/ref=nb_sb_noss_1?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&fieldkeywords=lifenama&rh=n%3A976389031%2Ck%3Alifenama The following is the link of my Facebook page of my upcoming book titled, â&#x20AC;&#x153;Rays and Ripplesâ&#x20AC;?

https://www.facebook.com/Rays-and-Ripples-785709894866172/ Ashi : Thank you for sharing your true words ofwisdom in the field ofart and for improvement ofour literary magazine. The budding artists will get the radiance ofyour spirit and your gracious advice would boost up their enthusiasm to be creative. Good Luck to you as you continue to learn and grow as a writer.

“Allaah megh de, allaah megh de Allaah megh de, allaah megh de Allah megh de, paani de paani de Gud dhaani de, allaah megh de Paani de, paani de” (God, bestow upon us rains, God, bestow upon us rains God, bestow upon us rains, water, water)

This soulful song from evergreen Hindi movie, Guide, from 60’s decade elucidates, a panoramic imagery to paint an evocative scenario of our contemporary society, facing drought, farmer suicides, climatic changes, monsoon sighting and “what not to be” for any mythical rain protagonist, many desperate hearts yearning for monsoon. An agro-cultural economy like India, can’t survive without Rains, in its effectual sense. So, conservation of such precious nonrenewable source, such as ground water, is mandatory and much needed in every sense.

Necessity is the mother of Invention

“Curiosity” often leads to great discoveries and inventions, and paves the way for civilization to prosper and survive against all odds. Mother Nature has always been a subject of much needed deliberations and has invited fear and subjugation of minds alongside with that hefty package, often deeming it necessary for survival, correctly elucidating Darwin Principle of “Survival of the fittest strategy”.

When it rains there comes a beautiful enticing rainbow, enthralling every one, making peacocks dance in merriment, making poetic heart yearns for verses and for many, to pause and reflect for their life.

Human beings from their primitive existence to now a days netizens, have come a long way, in technological advancements and other details, except, that package to “fear” unknown and obscure, is still followed and tread all those pathways, forests, barren lands, with them like a “walking shadow”. When it rains there comes a beautiful enticing rainbow, enthralling every one, making peacocks dance in merriment, making poetic heart yearns for verses and for many, to pause and reflect for their life.

How serene it all looks? Ever wondered how a primitive man might have reacted when he first saw that astonishing 7-colored thing, known to us as Rainbow, coming all of sudden preceded with a warning, thunderstorms to follow and rains to fall. Bizarre! He must have been scared seeing and encountering something more powerful than his prowess to decipher its significance. He bowed down to this inevitable unknown, scared and unknown source of rains, bringing sometimes flood fury, drought and other times facilitating crops and life in general.

He started to fear, make it sacred from his scaredness.

Similar bizarre expressions must have been gesticulated with glowering Sun, tranquil Moon, rustling Rivers, hissing Fires, whistling Winds etc. And, he started to worship them, make them superior to his existence, an unspoken panic for his survival and his clan well being. As time progressed, this ideology also progressed. To encounter, counter effect and nullify Nature’s demonic fury, he must have found ways & means to appease wrath of unknown whom he now addressed as Gods/motifs/seals that he worshipped. He started to find ways to appease them, to make them happy, so that drought, water scarcity, mysterious diseases, inhabitation problems, everything would just disappear in matter of minutes. He started to do Yajña, peaceful offertory and sacrifices of animals and sometimes for extreme situations human sacrifices were deemed necessary to appease the “angry power”, a source unknown and uncalled for. He was amused to see what he never has seen and experienced what he never has understood fully, the phenomena of climatic changes and weather. For him, it was a mystery, a bizarre event, cascading with mythic and mystique elements, for generations to follow and bellowed, “Most humbly we bow to You, O Supreme Lord. At Your command moves the mighty wheel oftime. You are eternal, and beyond eternity. (Artharva Veda)

And, he started to worship them, make them superior to his existence, an unspoken panic for his survival and his clan well being.

We have Rain God, in Indian mythology; Rain God is addressed as “Indra Devta”. He is considered to be powerful than even Sun God and other hierarchical Gods

What is the mystique attached with the Rains, or particularly with the Rain Gods, let’s see: We have Rain God, in Indian mythology; Rain God is addressed as “Indra Devta”. He is considered to be powerful than even Sun God and other hierarchical Gods. If we see the historical facts, we would not be surprised to notice uncanny similarities and evidences to support this fact, that almost every civilization across the world had been practicing idol worship in some form or other resembling sets of beliefs and often ascribed on a social report card that I would refer to as “civilization threshold”, the limit ascribed to put back “Evolution phase” back to the “Devolving phase”. Indra Devta has been mentioned in, many ofVedic scriptures also. Sangam literature ofTamil also has mentioned about Rain God. The Rigveda states,

“He under whose supreme control are horses, all chariots, the villages, and cattle; He who gave being to the Sun and Morning, who leads the waters, He, O men, is Indra.” When drought, water scarcity was being inflicted on any areas or tribes or community, he is known to have powers to overcome this stalemate situation, with his charms, mystic ways, he has solutions to make rains happen. To appease him, often various festivities are celebrated around the month of harvest season, known to us from time immemorial, 55

• Baisakhi in Punjab, India, • Pongal in Tamil Nadu, India • Akhatrij (Akshaya Tritiya): celebrated in West India • Bhogali Bihu: (or Magh Bihu) is a harvest festival celebrated in Assam, India. • Gudhi Padwa: celebrated in Maharashtra Karnataka (India) • Vasant Panchami: celebrated in West India • Thanksgiving, USA & Canada • Ikore: celebrated by the Yoruba people in Nigeria • Chuseok: Korea • Dongmaeng: Korea • Niiname-sai, Shinjō-sai, Honen Matsuri: Japan • Mid-Autumn Festival: China; the eighth full moon according to the lunar calendar • Tết Trung Thu: Vietnam • Flores de Mayo: Philippines • Kaamatan: Sabah in Malaysia • Alaverdoba: Georgia • Bagach : Belarus (Source for list ofHarvest Festivals across the World-Wikipedia)

Humanity is devolving or evolving? From time immemorial, we have been mesmerized by chants of hymns; drum rolls, and beats to evoke the thunder, to welcome Rains. Peculiar to this practice is the Native Americans belief of dancing to invoke Rain God’s blessings. It can be put forth that, this particular dance form was evolved for evoking rains with heavy drum beats, mimicing the sounds of thunders, compelling the rain showers to fall.

Primitive man had Healing magic for ailing earth and unknown “evils” that overpowered his magnitude of thinking and adaptability.

These symbolic gestures, hymns chanting, religious discourse in the form of Havana/ are peace offertory for Rain Gods. The prattling rattling sounds of dance of Native Americans has cultural and religious value and beliefs attached to it, call it a social stigma, dogma or self-reliant faith, they are inerrable to lives, their social presence has often aggravated the paradoxes and awareness momentum. Alert! <Weather might get turbulent> From ancient Indian history, we have evidence of Mother Goddess, a fertility Goddess worshipped by Indus Valley Civilization dwellers, and many seals & amulets have pointed to this amazing discovery that ancient dwellers worshipped God in various forms. Primitive man had Healing magic for ailing earth and unknown “evils” that overpowered his magnitude of thinking and adaptability. With our reckless behavior, we have been hurling non-stop abuses on breast of Mother Nature and Planet Earth is overwhelmed with Global Warming and other Environmental issues. How are we going to find the healing potion for all the ominous practices we have been indulging since decades?

Fertility invocation and appeasing these unknown forces of Nature was found interconnected in some surreal ways, as the archeological evidence proved, many times, across historical time scale, wherein numerous civilizations have flourished and famished. Satellite mapping, ecology conservation practices and sustainable environment are the buzzwords for todayâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s ecology, deemed as happy words. Where as few of the danger words- global warming, deforestation, extinction, ice glaciers melting, earth core deflection, acid rain, weather changes and this list seems to have only been aggravated.

Any guesses for the name of the first urban engineering evidences that laid the foundation of successive unparalleled civilizations? Itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Indus Valley civilization. Centuries ago, around 4000 years back, they laid the foundation of what was to be known in later centuries as, pinnacle, a stepping stone for urban civilization and urban master craft in terms of town planning and urban engineering. They had marveled and excelled in Rain Water Harvesting through their seamless plumbing all across the cityâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s citadel. What might have the citizens of Indus Valley civilization thought about present day netizens? Almost 1000 years later, human civilization unraveling the verbal dichotomous and synchronous viability, we have come a long way, in abusing Mother Earth freebies and denouncing our responsibilities, altogether, with some pretext or other. Our ancestral legacy spoke highly of the commitment, they have been, putting forward to. They were responsible, learning their ways to embolden their newly set up lives, as a civilization masterminds, it was a step, that they needed to learn so that they should be able to survive against all odds and unknown source of fear.

Almost 1000 years later, human civilization unraveling the verbal dichotomous and synchronous viability, we have come a long way, in abusing Mother Earth freebies and denouncing our responsibilities, altogether, with some pretext or other.

Floods, drought, natural calamities have been talked a lot about, but about their uniqueness, unique understanding of Mother Earth, both as their savior and protector. As the time unravels, human being gets more powerful; and it gets more irresponsible in its ways, esp. negligent with his duties towards contributing for maintaining peace and harmony, for his survival. Now, he also has technological advancements, that gauge and tell precise announcements for natural calamity, for rains, for meteor strike and the unforeseen. But what’s the use of this power packed nukes, when we aren’t ethical and responsible in almost all the ways and means towards Planet Earth, and towards future generations. By 2025, 1.8 billion people will experience absolute water scarcity, and 2/3 ofthe world will be living under water-stressed conditions

What is Rainwater harvesting?

Water is elixir of life. Water conservation is imperative to our survival. The rate of global warming and water scarcity is alarming. As per the latest data on the water scarcity---• By 2025, 1.8 billion people will experience absolute water scarcity, and 2/3 of the world will be living under water-stressed conditions • Scarcity can take two forms: there is an important distinction drawn in this discussion between Physical Water Scarcity and Economic Water Scarcity • By 2030, almost half the world will live under conditions of high water stress. Source~ http://www.fewresources.org/

Today, we took a walk to one of our neighborhood, Penitentiary, known as Glenn Penitentiary Reservation, Kirtland, Ohio, where we were exposed to lovely Rain Gardens, Rain Water Harvesting fundamentals, Rain Barrels for recycling water. One of the interesting parts of our hike that caught my attention was, the unmowed area around the Parking lot, designed to improve drainage. It captures and filters rainwater and snowmelt from the Parking lot. This runoff then soaks into the ground naturally. Amazing isn’t it? Plantings within these “rain garden” areas thrive in wet soil, aid in the filtering process, and provide habitat for wildlife. It was an amazing learning experience for me and for kids. I am sharing few photographs from our wonderful day.

Mythic Pauses: We belong to the culture, where, wrath of Gods & Goddesses are feared most. Proclaim it as a myth or a superstition, but it’s a definitive answer for most of our problems. Contemporary society is a concoction of prurience, susceptibility and exhibitionism. What pays forward needs to be followed backwards as well? It simply suggests if we take one step forward in urbanization and take immense pride in gloating about our technological advancements, weather satellites etc., we need to take one step backward, to slow it down, to pause and reflect for our choices, and to ask this question often, are we doing everything right for Planer Earth? This Punitive corkscrew attached with our beliefs, faith and practices, regarding water, rains, monsoon isn’t boisterous or jinxed choice but instead this issue needs to be discussed, needs awareness and sensitization of each and every one of us. It’s definitely time to act, to amend our choices and to create ecosphere, based on tenets of sustainability and eco-management. Rainwater harvesting & 3 E’s are needed with Educate, Elevate & Empower with respect to resource planning and conservation. Can we all envision an idea- Human subsistence free from shackles of Servitude and Negligence when it comes to Protecting, Curetting, Preserving and Healing our Planet Earth? The speed with which we are killing the very soul of Mother Earth, let us hope and pray that our civilization doesn’t have to find another DemiGod or God to come and save us from this messy situation, we all have created for ourselves. Time is ticking away; can you hear the final call? Or are you all also waiting for some thunderstorm or premonition to guide you, once again? ~

Rains:A Mystique paraphrased Ruchi Chopra

A new day dawning upon us as a sunny morning greets me, after the storm, a rainbow beholds thee promise ofa new tomorrow for life isn't just load ofdeep sorrows. Welcome hope in your heart, cast away swirling doubts along the frontiers, open your fortress to new possibilities. Don't just dwell on such life's oddities listen to chirping birds perched on tree's dainty branches. See the flowers bloom on such lovely prairie, live as ifthis would be your last day on Earth unleash the inner child in you longing to break free!

Your aim is near…it’s near to you… Put little effort you can do, Never give up till the last moment.. Otherwise you’ll have to repent, Don’t be afraid ofobstacles.. Cross them…you can do miracles, Think ofthe ant and its hard work Learn from life ..when life gives a jerk, Think ofall the efforts you have put Never give excuses that I couldn't, Never give up…nor say I cant… At least try..life have given you a chance, Do or die but never cry… Try try till you reach the sky In this life you have to prove… You can’t stand still you have to move, Match your pace with all others.. Think ofsuccess which is near, All your hard work will pay… Success will be yours and it will be a new day!!!!

I was standing in the middle ofroad …looking differentdirections … Not knowing where to go …where is my destination. .

My one single step could change my destiny. . . . There were various directions I could see , Perplexed with life…. uncertain ofmy aim. . . Mind was thinking, Is life playing a new game, I stood still …thinking…and thinking. . . . I had to move from the road…as people were honking , Then I thought am I the culprit or my fate. . . . . . I knocked at almighty but I was too late, There was conflict between my mind and my heart. . . Whether to end life or give it a new start , I closed my eyes and listened to my heart. . . . I was convinced to give life a new start,

Author/Poet Elizabeth Esguerra Castillo Advisory Board Member, Reflection Magazine; Member, PEN International; American Authors Association (AAA); Asia Pacific Writers and Translators (APWT); Author, “Seasons ofEmotions” (UK); Author, “Inner Reflections ofthe Muse” (USA)

It has been said that anyone can write but not everyone can create that perfect, crystalline moment which can make magic and move or touch the hearts of readers. Why do I write? I write because I can’t not write. Writing is my passion and pen pushing has been etched in my heart and soul. I live to write and I write to live. In every waking hour and even while dreaming in my sleep, my mind is loaded with ideas that have to be written down. For this thunder within me, I can’t resist. There is this force deep inside me dying to escape and must be released each time within ink. I do not merely write for fame nor money, for these things are just temporary. They would be mundane reasons which are shallow and would not give me authentic self-fulfillment. I write not only for myself but for my constant readers. I do not merely write to feed my selfish ego but more for becoming an inspiration to many - especially the younger generation. What satisfaction do I get in writing? There is a sense of real fulfillment that writing enlivens within an author and poet like me. Writing is infinite because it goes beyond what we can comprehend especially to those who are not in the same stage or process of life’s endeavor as I am. I write not to just satisfy the hunger to be heard but to practice freedom of expression that follows my ultimate passion and calling within writing. From an early age, I already knew what I would be someday.

And I am proud to say that I will not be having many regrets later on when my hair turns to gray - for I followed my dreams and I continue to ponder upon many things that I didn’t do too. I am always asking myself the difficult “what ifs” inside diligent questioning’s that respond into balanced dreaming of positive living dreams formed to move inside “if only” statements. In a writers’ conference where I was one of the major speakers, I shared some excerpts from the book: “The Writers’ Manifesto” by Jeff Goins and here are some highlights that share from his wisdom to ponder upon further: “Real writers don’t write for recognition. They don’t do it for fame, accolades or notoriety. They do it because they cannot NOT write.” “By their GIFTS and under the authority of a higher calling, they are compelled to create. To wonder. To dream. To express.” “The true writer simply shows up. Ready to do the work whether the work is successful or acknowledged… that is not important. CREATING is our primary concern.” When my readers take time to send a message or make a comment about a piece of writing I did and they tell me that it touched their hearts or they can easily relate to the content, I feel very fulfilled inside. That’s how writers can truly claim they are effective writers - as they get to positively affect the moods of their readers and moreover, change lives too. I write to INSPIRE and to spread positive vibes to each and every one of my readers and writing is my ultimate calling. I write to share my God-given gifts to the world - for I believe that I was not born in one small corner - as the entire world is my home. 68

When my readers take time to send a message or make a comment about a piece ofwriting I did and they tell me that it touched their hearts or they can easily relate to the content, I feel very fulfilled inside. That’s how writers can truly claim they are effective writers - as they get to positively affect the moods oftheir readers and moreover, change lives too.

Mrs.Praveen Gola is an online Freelance Writer and Journalist for the last three years. As writing is her passion she always tries to provide something new and unique to the readers. Poetry is her hobby and she always tries to eliminate the society evils through her poetic version so that a common man too can understand the same and follow it.

Again a year drowned, And another has come with a crown, But my Love for you hadn't fainted, Because I keep my promise painted. Whenever I declined, I saw your face inclined, I hold your hand in air, To keep my promise fair, Many obstacles blocked my path, Many days passed without laugh, But your dreams are always here, To keep my promise glare. "We both are Free", itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s a promise, But "We both are bound" in all crisis, Still I love you without fear, And keep my promise clear. A missing feeling intact, When I usually check your online "status" fact, Then I gathered all courage there, To keep my promise dare. Sometimes it made a doubt, That perhaps you too were playing a bout, But the next moment I assured, To keep my promise secured. Another "New Year" is welcoming our Love, As our promise is like a pure dove, Where truth and dare lies, And forms a bonded tie.

Moments Captured By Krishna Bishnoi 70

My Reality

Asror Allayarov Uzbekistan Someone Or Something Has lived in my mind before Or above it Now memories are reminding me, His death was real. Actually It happened so Suddenly Someone died in my mind, When I was born

My name is…

Makhfuza Imamova Uzbekistan A way oflife became a thin bridge, I couldn’t pass it without fail. I have raised only absence, But I never took your heart up. To come the fate’s bows, Aimed only me among others Oh, my dear, it has no tongue, Ofmy heart which believes you. You are asking my name again, again, As IfI am dreaming at night. Say, why as a snow ofhundred years back, You are looking down now. I don’t want to reach you a blemish, I don’t want to reach you a victim. Listen, Ifyou want to know, My name is a beautiful patience My name is a beautiful distress.

MORNING IN MIRAKI Umida Khushvaktova Uzbekistan Morning, covering whole Miraki, Spring shares its treasure. Life is singing its melody, Morning, feeling great pleasure. Morning, covering whole Miraki, Dominating skyline mountains. Filling brightness throughout mind, Deteriorating my old pains. Morning, covering whole Miraki, Golden sky appearing as a dream. Sun is leading morning by, Flowing my paper as a stream.

A Love

Mohira Suyunova Uzbekistan I saw an ailment ofthe life Into its eyes Since then, I lost my pleasure And this an ailment Walked to move From eye to the eye From word to the word From year to the year As a stranger â&#x20AC;&#x201C; It was a Love

Wandering

Give me your hand

Mukhammad Ismoilov Uzbekistan

Manzura Bekchanova Uzbekistan

… I am a wandering around you, You are the most beautiful. Say, when you are, Will express your love? There are many princes, Have had run ofyour rear. Come, I am impoverished, Kiss me one near them. Your lovers are revenging, I can’t endure that. Ifyou don’t notice your love, My sorrowful soul will not be calm. Your beauty rising more and more, I am astonished with a wail. Tell me when you are, Will express your love?

A mountain has a pride, A rock has a snow, Rain has come from your heart’s sky. A burden and a cold, A grudge is a separation, Your big heart can’t go in to the cramped world. Don’t pout, Don’t cry my soul, I will thaw your ice with my poems. My white horse- a poem, Give me your hand, I will roll you out to my world with flying.

I displayed my love, And I knelt thousand times. Say, “I love you” you too, Unburden your heart, my beloved. I am a wandering around you, You are the most beautiful.

You love me it’s my boast Not me, says my lonely heart Make me unhappy shedding oftears But why I can’t wipe your face? How could I tell what’s my pleasure? Depth ofit, how could I measure? Only I have seen in your eyes And says my heart so nice, so nice I can feel myselfin your soul Your sweet lips broken the entire wall You converted my flinch mind into broad Inhaling your sublime fragrance become cloud I am hanging between reality and dream Exquisite unknown strife is extreme Now you leave me or kiss me depend upon you Mind is the master ofall trade, as I know

We get this life once to live Why to find fault with others? This life is unique and precious Why to curse our fellow beings? It is human nature to make mistakes We all are puppets ofthat magician, Whose threads are held in his hands He only shows us the path, the direction!

DR. SONIA GUPTA (BDS, MDS) hails from Dera Bassi, near Chandigarh, northeren region ofIndia. Though, a doctor by profession, poetry is her passion. She started writing in 2006 and her journey ofpoetry continued afterwards.Her many poems got a place in various Hindi magazines and English anthology books. Recently she became an established poetess after getting her two Hindi poetry books published. Her three English poetry books are releasing soon. Besides poetry, she is fond ofpaintings, singing, cooking, knitting, designing, stitching and embroidery too!!!

We too commit so many errors But we do not stop loving ourselves Then why just for a single reason We give a name ofâ&#x20AC;&#x153;culpritâ&#x20AC;? to others! It is easy to quarrel with some strangers But difficult to argue with our dears When there is any antagonism with closed ones There comes violence in our own existence!

Sorrows and happiness are two wheels oflife, around which this life revolves Why to curse someone for our situations These are our deeds only those become the reason! Let us lit the lamp oflove in every heart Let us spread a word ofsmile in this world Life is to love O dear! Do not build up a nest ofhatred here! Let us promise to ourselves on this new year All around we will spread love and cheer Let us throw away all violence Let us make everyoneâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s heart a heaven! Life only teaches us to live with love Do not spoil it in revenges and arguments. We get this life only once This life is only once! Only once!!!

Tomorrow will bring smiles Shahid Khan (Gujarat, India) To the past, just say goodbye, But never let your spirit die; Tomorrow will bring smiles to you; So forget failures and heartache, And learn from every mistake. No need to stay the way you are And lose hope after coming so far; Tomorrow will bring smiles to you; Just resolve to be headstrong, And shun the fear ofgoing wrong. All the precious things in life are free; Do best friends ever charge any fee? Tomorrow will bring smiles to you; Just turn to them whenever They never let down ever Whenever you feel, youâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ve lost your way, Remember tomorrow is a brand new day; It will bring smiles to you; Donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t ever give up trying; Success will keep on flying.

A New Beginning Shahid Khan (Gujarat, India) Life is such a mystery, It is so hard to solve. The more you are resilient; The more it breaks your resolve. The moment you think, All your problems are solved. The very next moment you find, All your respite, getting dissolved. Moments ofhappiness looks fleeting; It flies away at supersonic speed. For eternal happiness and comfort, Is all we cherish, desire and need. Moments ofhardship seems long-lasting; It gives us no choice, but to bear and strive. However, it is as essential as food and water, Which gives us strength and keeps us alive. Moments oflaughter and grief, And the cycle ofmisery and mirth, Is as recurring and as perennial as, The cycle ofdeath and birth. There is no point in wasting the present, over unattainable and worthless pinning. But we can discover new happiness, By rediscovering ourselves with a new beginning.

Paintings By Roshni (Chennai, India)

She is 13 year old and loves reading, writing, dancing, singing and painting. It is worth mentioning here is that she is a budding young artist who has won more than 150 painting contests, 15 being international awards. She has also won a Few prizes in story writing. A very good student academically she pursues music and carnatic violin too. She has learnt bharathnatyam too. She is in 8th grade.