Asian Literary Society

PRESS RELEASE Asian Literary Society Organized Three-days Jashn-e-Azadi Festival to celebrate Indian Independence Day 2020 To get our new generation acquainted with our long walk to freedom and pay homage to all those martyrs who sacrificed their lives for our better tomorrow, Asian Literary Society organized JASHN-E-AZADI- a three days online festival from 13 th  August 2020  to 15th August 2020. In this festival eminent literary luminaries and artists from all over the country enthusiastically participated to celebrate Indian Independence Day and paid tribute to our great leaders as well as unsung heroes. Mr. Manoj Krishnan (Founder, Asian Literary Society, and author) welcomed all the eminent guests and artists in JASHN-E-AZADI festival.  The festival encompassed live conversations with Chief Guest Dr. Balmiki Prasad Singh (Former Governor of Sikkim), Guest of Honours Dr. Varsha Das (Former Director, National Gandhi Museum),  "Padma Vibhushan" Dr. R. Chidambaram (...

Young boy from a small town and a mediocre family, Cherished big dreams in his magnetic eyes lived shyly. Be it engineering,astronomy, physics or aeronautics, Was dextrously adept at handling all the dynamics. Had a humble background but ambitions sky high, Goals set,readied nuances and determined to fly. Malleable brilliant mind leaving behind a lucrative career, Forays into an uncertain world ruled by mafia all over. Dazzle and splendour caught him in a short span of time, He climbed up so steep,a valid reason so sublime. Sharp focus,due diligence and a fearless mind, Broke all the shackles leaving negativity behind. Rose to a height where eagles dare to fly, Looked at the stars with a gleaming telescopic eye. Alas! irresponsibly bullied,harassed,subdued and troubled, Despite all the malaise,he still remain humbled. Vicious thoughts and conspiratory deeds of his rivals, Could not tolerate his magnificent and trendy arrival. Brutally assaulted-the journey ended of a brilliant man, Had...

  Fly high girl! Fly where eagles dare Don't let sky be your limit. Let your sky be horizon less Let hurdles shroud your path Let shadows befall your way Your intrepidity will lit your way Fly high girl! Fly where eagles dare. Don't let sky be your limit. Let superstitious minds speak Let them think you've wax wings Don't be touched by gender disparity For you are reincarnation of Gaea, Mother of all beings. Fly high girl! Fly where eagles dare. Don't let sky be your limit. Let your intellect vanquish all myths Let your heart subjugate all frailties Let your spirit arise from ashes You shall reach your goal one day.

Where the avian giants Spread their wide wings And roam in the territorial sky to keep eyes on enemy's act. Where the flying heroes maneuver their fighter crafts To intercept the intruders' planes And chase them back to their land. Where the great warriors On all weather conditions Remain vigilant round the clock To protect their Motherland. Where the eagles dare To roam high in the sky Challenging the storms With their mighty wings. Where the valiant raptors  Keep beaks and claws ready For a fierce fight with rivals And tear the opponents apart. A country with rich heritage Where mothers give birth to heroes Whose numerous valiant deeds Sing the song of brave hearts.

Still, I remember those moonless nights. When stars shine bright. I wait for a   glimpse of a shooting star, looks like a glittering ray. To wish for a letter from his side the next day. Those flowering, flattering words. How I   read and smell   like a fresh florets from a divine abode. Those days I live in an Eldorado valley   The fragrance of lavender in every alley. Chirpy birds, vivacious rivulets, an ecstasy of sighting a shooting star! Living with him in a dream as if he was not so far. Sing a song "love is in the air", a duet And how love made everyone a poet. Once he wrote, " When you see a shooting star, just think that it is me, coming to glance my moon, which is you". Profound love though the meeting was few. We were too far by distance at that time yet so close by heart, with the aid of a sleek shooting star full of grace. Who plays a cupid role with ease. Now with so many gadgets, to   call, see, messages   wh...

I wish to go to faraway lands like a dandelion seed. A gush of wind  would be my navigator  deciphering the silence of loneliness flying upon the glistening sea watching the streams of spring. Caressed by the swift breeze filling the vacuum in my heart I embrace the swaying boughs which will sweep away my melancholy wading through the cerulean skies Away from those prying eyes  to soothe my aching heart lingering pain, flipping emotions an amazing excursion trip only for me, my soul and my conscience.

Bonfire by the beach, with mellow waves hitting the sand - Under a moonlit sky, a perfect holiday, just as we had planned! But the bluish-green verdure of the littoral woods, Cajoled and beckoned, tempting us, from where she stood. Like flies drawn to fire, we gave in to her charm, And she guided us in, the gracious host, aloof yet warm. A curious mist hung in the air, in a promiscuous allure, With her enticing scent that reminded you of a princess, demure! She ushered us in farther, into depths yet unexplored, Where sat a pristine loch, crystal-clear to its core, Where denizens of the woods, came in ones and twos, To quench their thirst with water, as pure as drops of dew. Night birds, rabbits and deer : all drank from the holy grail, The elves and centaurs came too : creatures from fairy tales. The moon, a glorious orb, graced the celestial scene, The stars winked in glee, we wondered if all this was real. We woke up on the sand, the next day, tired, sun-dazed, Still marveling in won...

Far from the monochrome of life,  Away from the friction and strife,  An excursion beckons once in a while,  The weary mind happily obliges with a smile.  Delves deep within the deep blue sea, Revisit the corals of a forgotten red love. Swims with abandon with a floaty vision,  Rediscover the priceless pearls of once cherished friendships.  Fly high with white tufts of tiny cloud,  Innocent imagination unsaddled by dark truths of life.  The ether, full of shiny sparkling stars, A thousand diyas of a Diwali long past. Trudges up a mountain slope steep,  Remembers a young will to reach the summit.  The smiling, swaying flowers decking the way, Bring back the unsullied joys of early life.  Far  from the monochrome of life,  Away from the friction and strife,  The mind freely wanders for a while,  Comes back to reality with an invigorating smile!

  My time machine whirled and stuttered As I left the gloomy today behind All set to re-experience the joys of yesterday I took an excursion to the pre-Covid times! Leisurely I stroll down the busy market lane sans mask The luscious aroma of the street food tickles my nostrils As I savour the tasty delights in the open Even the chatter of people and honks of vehicles sound music to me! I enjoy the camaraderie of my best pals Exchanging handshakes, hugs and kisses, we maintain no physical distance Whether it's watching movies, parties or night-outs We celebrate togetherness, overflowing with exuberance! The vibrant rainbow, the melodious chirruping of birds intrigue me The crisp breeze brings ambrosial scent of blooming flowers Walking carefree under the azure sky without any fear of contagion I bask in the sublime beauty of luxuriant nature! As I land back in the pandemic stricken world, claustrophobia grips me again A visit to the past has filled me with guilt and penitence Having...

The dilapidated lighthouse towers over the ruthless sea Many momentous stories it often narrates Having stood witness to adrift ships on stormy nights It has weathered splashing winds and blasphemous waves A wrecked flight of stairs unraveled unknown space Mysterious and haunted, a million ghost tales Stones smeared with brine aligned, dark and cold And through its tilted window streamed in fragmented sun rays The seagulls encircle above with fluttering wings Trapped in the wind’s discord and the violent downpours Their pale feathers shine, contrasting the dark grey skies And their melancholic cries are drenched in unutterable pathos Every night conscientiously the lighthouse comes alive As it throws a wide beam across the choppy waters It dances restlessly to the tunes of the whistling winds And playful waves join in the  harmonious chorus The solitary lighthouse stands tall in the tempestuous sea A shining star starkly arising from that curious abyss  A beacon of hope to lur...

  The dark baits for the night sky full of stars. A lighthouse sits upon a monolith Buffeted  by the Atlantic cold. Nothing seems to stir, the light reaches, Far across the ocean, away from the coast. A sign of hope, a weaving of light on the mists rising by the hour. The lighthouse silently awaits the mariners, Those in whose veins the sea rises like ambition. Unfettered dreams straddle to faraway lands. Unknown, strange hopes of a wonder land. Inviting with the sapphires and rubies Quarried in bulk; the lighthouse has molded journeys, It has been a proof of hope against doubts. The lighthouse brings moments of delight, Against deterring despair, Affirmation of the energies driving you. To your cherished destination Which thrives like a passion in your heart. Of eternal journey it stands, of the faith which guides  The passion of life and commitment!

  Standing at the edge of cliff, a beacon to the ships. Guiding to the safest zones day and night when peeps.   Wafting of the tidal waves roughly along it’s base. Lighthouse always lits the lamp smiling with a grace.   Never tired, never bothered of any sarcasms still, ready to brighten forgotten ways challenging every deal.   Somewhat, like this lonely lighthouse, wait for you my dear. Captain of the forlorn ship might anchor once more here.   Wait for you so long and hence, ages and eons so far. Witness all the highs and lows and moon and every star.   Perhaps, you’d look for love and slowly hold my hand. Perhaps, you’d ask to leave once for your distant land.   Perhaps, we just wait and wait for that lovely, dreamy day, and bid an adieu to ocean beds and lighthouse at the bay.  

I was twelve, when my mother died, and  my father sent me to stay with my grandparents, here in Goa. What I loved the most about their bungalow was the big yard at the back, with an old beech tree by the fences. A half-built tree house sat snug amidst its branches. Grandpa told me, my great-grandfather had been building it for his elder son. “But grandpa, you never told me you had a brother?” I asked. Grandpa’s eyes looked sad, “He died at 8. He was a very naughty child. He fell from the beech tree itself, when my father was working on the tree house, and then, he never woke up. Father never completed the construction after that.” I sighed, half sad for the child and half wishing the tree house was completed. Within days, however, to my delight, I found grandpa marching towards the unfinished tree house, armed with plywood and tools. I chipped in, quickly learning things. Phew! A lot of science went into building my eight-by-eight-foot tree house. It became my secret nook. On Sunda...

The courtyard of our ancestral home housed a colossal tree Its roots meandered along the ground like knotted ropes  There was something mysterious and enigmatic about it A plethora of tales within for decades it did hold In the summers last, the kids espied it And plan to erect a tree house was instantly made Enthusiasm was infectious and their excitement contagious As on an enthralling mission set out the young brigade There were differences and there were disapprovals Yet together they set out on an adventurous thrill At times they slouched in a corner living their dreams Afternoon siestas were often broken with their shrills Their conversations oft ended in pillow fights For the next few days it became their snuggly abode The tree house was shrouded with drop dead silence sometimes And also from there carefree laughters echoed The hospitable confines of their labour of love To escape prying eyes , became a perfect hideaway Afternoons were spent reading and playing board games Ri...

As I walked in the  Forest one warm day,  I saw a beautifully-lit  Tree house on the way.  Fresh green foliage  Did magically surround,  Along with an aura of Peace and calm around.  I was so mesmerized  By its rustic charm,  The ethereal sight was Like a soothing balm.  It transported me to my Childhood days with ease,  That day it had drizzled,  There was a pleasant breeze.  We had scampered up,  It was delight and fun,  There was no worry and Care under the sun. So happy we had been  Amidst the cooling rain,  Can someone bring me back  Those innocent days again?

How nice to stay in a tree house! As a kid, my father had built it, for me and my friends to play. It was a private space, where trespassers were prohibited. I kept it so neat and tidy. None could dare to enter in dirty shoes. Surrounded by so many bushes and plants, my tree house was my private property. My summer holidays were spent in that cozy house. Other than my buddies, only squirrels and birds were allowed. Peeping from my tiny castle, I experienced the luxury of a royal princess. High up above, almost touching the blue sky, I enjoyed the caresses of the cool breeze. I felt blissful to watch the river flowing. How colorful the world was! Blossoms of different hues. Butterflies flitting around nonstop Huge mountains with clouds hovering over them. Those mesmerizing sights took my breath away. I wish I lived in my tree house again! Alas! Now it's just in my sweet memories. 

Forsaken in love and left broken hearted She surrendered and left everything to fate Managing to survive every beguiling promise To her that he had fraudulently made She was loathed and she was despised And lived in circumstances that were unfortunate Against the wishes of her parents she had gone And now repented a relation that was illegitimate A child was born to her out of wedlock She decided to end her life to relinquish the shame On an inclement night she left him abandoned At the doorstep of an undisclosed orphanage As she walked away tears welled up in her eyes And her heart almost sank as motherly instincts took shape Only once more if she looked back she knew She would hold him close in a tearful embrace Gathering courage and with firm determination Her faltering steps she managed to retrace Lifting her little baby hysterically in her arms She deliberated to live with pride for his sake  

I see her clinging to the railings That  trap her within  towering walls : Walls that  now seem alien to her. I watch  her stare blankly at a road That rushes past noisily - A haze of moving bodies racing from One  end to another. I know she waits,  As  she did aeons ago, For  the sound of tiny feet Racing home from school. She waits till the shadows  curl around her, Like the creases on her face That have curled around her heart. Slowly  she moves away. Another day of waiting goes by. She hums a lullaby. Perhaps her son, somewhere, is awake.

  It was the first day of school after a long summer vacation. Students were walking towards the main lobby from the entrance of the school. After the deadly silence of two months school was alive again with chatter and jubilant sounds from the students. Watching the students climbing stairs and reaching their respective classrooms, there I stood, the first-grade homeroom teacher. While most of the students were having a joyful time, there was a boy standing very quietly in one corner. After watching him for some time I approached him and asked his name and class but didn't get any reply. He held his face down looking at his shoes all the time. I then scanned his school ID to find that the boy's name is Anish, a new admission, and a student of my class itself. The boy was living in the school hostel. I observed that Anish did not speak with anyone in the class. One full week passed like this, I hoped every day that he would start mingling and making friends. He was lost i...

I am not one, but a rabble with numerous psyches and their rattles. Those synchronize  to give a feel that they listen to the one in the lead.   The obedience is such that I often don’t realize that I am made of parts. I believe I am whole sole mind and a single soul.   But oft when a tiny bit decides to abandon to quit, the fact dawns that to build me bit by bit  the chunks have gathered upon.   When ideas abandon, when the feeling of happiness leave. Sometimes despite the situation, I am left blank, abandoned by grief. Unable to think, but I am forced to believe that prone to getting broken and abandoned by my own some, I am many not one.