Copyright @shravancharitymission
Carried in The Goan Everyday newspaper on 27/3/26
Happy to share my piece published in The Goan Net newspaper carried on 27/3/26. We all have heard about the Parijat Tree and its relation with Lord Krishna, Rukmini and Satyabhama. Here is the story. Hope you enjoy reading it. The title of the piece is ‘Legends Surrounding the Parijat Tree.’
Copyright@shravancharitymission
Written by Kamlesh Tripathi
Copyright@shravancharitymission
POEM: THERE WAS A TIME
Kamlesh Tripathi
There was a time,
When there was so much work and so little time,
Today there is so much time and so little work,
That it’s difficult to kill time.
*
There was a time when a day appeared short,
Today is a time when a day appears to be long,
Have the days actually changed?
Or is it because,
“I wasted time, and now doth time waste me.” says the Bard.
*
There was a time when days would swiftly fly,
Like swallows racing through a summer sky,
Now every hour lingers, deep and long,
As though the clock has lost its perky song.
*
There was a time when work would crowd the day,
And fleeting minutes hurried far away,
Now time itself sits silent at my door,
With little left for it to labour for.
*
Yet still the hours keep circling as before,
Within the steadfast span of twenty-four,
The sun arrives each morning, bright and sure,
Which the turning world continues to endure.
*
Then why does time now falter in its pace?
Why does each moment stretch in silent space?
Perhaps the mind has changed its subtle art,
The clock still ticks, but differently, the heart.
*
There was a time I longed for moments more,
And gathered seconds like a hidden store.
But now the day lies wide and strangely still,
And time moves slowly, bending to my will.
*
The earth, the sky, the constellated dome,
Remain the same, eternal as their home,
Yet something deep within the soul must rhyme,
For life has changed the gentle measure of time.
*
Nothing has changed other than your mind,
For time remains the same, but you stand rearranged,
Earlier, the mind was supersonic,
And time was subsonic.
*
Today, the mind is at a cul-de-sac,
So the time takes you for a ride,
So rise again and wake up to the volatile world,
And you’ll find the time to be the same.
**
“It is not the time but you who changes over time.”
***
Written and posted by Kamlesh Tripathi
Author, Poet, & Columnist
*
https://kamleshsujata.wordpress.com
*
Like it and Share it
*
Shravan Charity Mission is an NGO that works for poor children suffering from life-threatening diseases, especially cancer. Our posts are meant for our readers, including children and adults, and have a huge variety of content. We also accept donations for our mission. Should you wish to donate to the cause of cancer? The bank details are given below:
NAME OF ACCOUNT: SHRAVAN CHARITY MISSION
Account no: 680510110004635 (BANK OF INDIA)
IFSC code: BKID0006805
***
kamleshsujata@yahoo.com
Copyright@shravancharity mission
POEM: THERE WAS A TIME
Kamlesh Tripathi
There was a time,
When there was so much work and so little time,
Today there is so much time and so little work,
That it’s difficult to kill time.
*
There was a time when a day appeared short,
Today is a time when a day appears to be long,
Have the days actually changed?
Or is it because,
“I wasted time, and now doth time waste me.” says the Bard.
*
There was a time when days would swiftly fly,
Like swallows racing through a summer sky,
Now every hour lingers, deep and long,
As though the clock has lost its perky song.
*
There was a time when work would crowd the day,
And fleeting minutes hurried far away,
Now time itself sits silent at my door,
With little left for it to labour for.
*
Yet still the hours keep circling as before,
Within the steadfast span of twenty-four,
The sun arrives each morning, bright and sure,
Which the turning world continues to endure.
*
Then why does time now falter in its pace?
Why does each moment stretch in silent space?
Perhaps the mind has changed its subtle art,
The clock still ticks, but differently, the heart.
*
There was a time I longed for moments more,
And gathered seconds like a hidden store.
But now the day lies wide and strangely still,
And time moves slowly, bending to my will.
*
The earth, the sky, the constellated dome,
Remain the same, eternal as their home,
Yet something deep within the soul must rhyme,
For life has changed the gentle measure of time.
*
Nothing has changed other than your mind,
For time remains the same, but you stand rearranged,
Earlier, the mind was supersonic,
And time was subsonic.
*
Today, the mind is at a cul-de-sac,
So the time takes you for a ride,
So rise again and wake up to the volatile world,
And you’ll find the time to be the same.
**
“It is not the time but you who changes over time.”
***
Posted by Kamlesh Tripathi
Author, Poet, & Columnist
*
https://kamleshsujata.wordpress.com
*
Like it and Share it
*
Shravan Charity Mission is an NGO that works for poor children suffering from life-threatening diseases, especially cancer. Our posts are meant for our readers, including children and adults, and have a huge variety of content. We also accept donations for our mission. Should you wish to donate to the cause of cancer? The bank details are given below:
NAME OF ACCOUNT: SHRAVAN CHARITY MISSION
Account no: 680510110004635 (BANK OF INDIA)
IFSC code: BKID0006805
***
kamleshsujata@yahoo.com
Copyright@shravancharitymission
Shaheed Bhagat Singh remains a timeless symbol of courage, sacrifice, and revolutionary ideas. His life and martyrdom continue to inspire generations to stand for justice, equality, and freedom. He reminds us that true revolution lies not merely in action, but in the power of ideas.
Born on 28 September 1907 in Banga village of Lyallpur district, which is now in Pakistan, Bhagat Singh grew up in a patriotic Sikh family headed by his father, Sardar Kishan Singh Sandhu. From a very early age, he was exposed to the ideals of nationalism and sacrifice. The horrific tragedy of the Jallianwala Bagh Massacre left a deep and indelible scar on his young mind. It strengthened his resolve to fight against British oppression. By the year 1926, he had become actively involved in revolutionary movements, and he began organising young and youthful groups dedicated to India’s freedom.
On 23 March 1931, Bhagat Singh was executed by the cruel British Raj along with Shivaram Rajguru and Sukhdev Thapar at the young age of 23. Their martyrdom stirred the conscience of the nation and inspired millions to join the struggle for independence. One can easily say Bhagat Singh was miles ahead of his physical age when it came to ‘Inquilabi’ ideas that were required to liberate Mother India from the clutches of the British Raj. He was also an established writer. ‘Why I Am An Atheist’ is an essay written by him in 1930 in the Lahore Central Jail. His other works are equally absorbing.
With his erudite pronouncements, Bhagat Singh demolished the basis of the Sessions Court judgment and emphasised the importance of motive. The motive behind the action, he argued, should be the main consideration while judging the offence of an accused. He quoted the famous Jurist Solomon, who thought that one should not be punished for their criminal offence if their aim is not against the law.
In his statement before the Lahore High Court Bench, Bhagat Singh spoke with humility, acknowledging that he and his comrade were neither trained lawyers nor masters of language. He urged the court to overlook shortcomings, if any, in their expression and instead, understand the real meaning and spirit behind their words. The central idea of his argument was the importance of motive in judging any action. He firmly believed that justice cannot be served without considering the intention behind an act. According to him, if motive was ignored, even the greatest figures in history might appear criminal when judged solely by their outward actions.
He clarified that the Assembly bombing was not intended to kill anyone. The limited impact of the explosions proved that the act was carefully planned as a symbolic protest. He emphasised that they could have easily escaped if they had wished, but instead chose to surrender so that they could explain their ideals openly. They aimed to awaken both the rulers and the masses to the growing unrest in the country and to warn that continued neglect of people’s grievances by the British Raj could lead to greater upheaval.
He also explained the true meaning of revolution, stating that it does not merely signify violence. For him, revolution was rooted in ideas and aimed at ending injustice, exploitation, and oppression in society. From a legal perspective, he argued that motive had always been an important factor in judicial decisions. He cited the example of Reginald Dyer, who ordered firing on unarmed civilians (equivalent to a massacre) but was not given capital punishment, but a cash award, and another case of Kharag Bahadur Singh, who received a lighter sentence because his intentions were taken into account.
Bhagat Singh questioned why the same principle should not be applied to him and his comrades. He argued that ignoring motive was unjust and went against the principle that law exists for the welfare of human beings. He asked whether they were being denied fairness because their actions were political and directed against the government.
Written and posted by Kamlesh Tripathi
Author, Poet, & Columnist
*
https://kamleshsujata.wordpress.com
*
Like it and Share it
*
Shravan Charity Mission is an NGO that works for poor children suffering from life-threatening diseases, especially cancer. Our posts are meant for our readers, including children and adults, and have a huge variety of content. We also accept donations for our mission. Should you wish to donate to the cause of cancer? The bank details are given below:
NAME OF ACCOUNT: SHRAVAN CHARITY MISSION
Account no: 680510110004635 (BANK OF INDIA)
IFSC code: BKID0006805
***
My piece in The Assam Tribune today
Copyright@shravancharitymission
Poem: Celebrate the T20 Heroes
*
Kamlesh Tripathi
**
Congratulations, team India,
For dismantling New Zealand,
In a one-sided event,
Won by ninety-six runs.
*
The Indian team meshed well together,
Abhishek Sharma and Sanju Samson set the tone,
Ishan Kishan and Shivam Dube followed the rhythm.
*
Shivam Dube,
Thundered in the stadium,
And altogether,
The Indian batting turned into a run machine.
*
The New Zealand team had an unfortunate start,
Their pacers were often sent packing to the stands,
Their fielding was a poor show,
Where a crucial sitter was dropped.
*
They brought in their spinners late,
To salvage the game,
But by then,
Their pacers had handed over the game.
*
New Zealand tried to recover,
But Shivam Dube’s 26 from just 8 balls,
Sealed their fate.
And sent the Kiwis to an unreturnable place.
*
The New Zealanders had a subdued start,
Besides Seifert and Santner,
No one else could make a sound come back,
Leaving the Kiwis to a point of no combat.
*
The Indian bowlers reigned throughout,
Bumrah and Axar Patel led the onslaught,
That uprooted the Kiwis’ innings,
And took the Indian team to the winning spot.
*
Congratulations, Team India,
For achieving two consecutive victories,
Last time it was South Africa,
This time it was New Zealand.
*
It sounds like magic,
And we are now waiting for a hat trick.
***
Written and posted by Kamlesh Tripathi
Author, Poet, & Columnist
*
https://kamleshsujata.wordpress.com
*
Like it and Share it
*
Shravan Charity Mission is an NGO that works for poor children suffering from life-threatening diseases, especially cancer. Our posts are meant for our readers, including children and adults, and have a huge variety of content. We also accept donations for our mission. Should you wish to donate to the cause of cancer? The bank details are given below:
NAME OF ACCOUNT: SHRAVAN CHARITY MISSION
Account no: 680510110004635 (BANK OF INDIA)
IFSC code: BKID0006805
***
Copyright@shravancharitymission
POEM: EROS’S LOVE ARROW
Kamlesh Tripathi
***
Eros makes his home in men’s hearts,
But not in every heart,
For where there is hardness, says Plato,
He silently departs.
*
Eros blends with tender love,
A flame no storm can sever,
He is the hush beneath a sigh,
The bond that binds forever.
*
Eros is the sign of love,
Its pulse is its secret art,
When you dare to dream of emotion and love,
You cradle Eros in your heart.
*
There are several love-gods like…
…Eros, Cupid and Kamadeva,
They are charmed deities,
They forgive human frailties,
But set right human absurdities.
*
What is life without love?
A sky bereft of sun,
A lute without a melody,
A race that’s never run?
*
In Shakespeare’s…A Midsummer Night’s Dream,
Love is Blind,
Says Helena, heartbroken in unrequited love,
When Demetrius ditches her,
To fall in love with Hermia.
*
Love looks not with the eyes,
But with the mind,
And that’s why,
The winged Cupid is depicted as blind.
*
When Kamadeva disturbed Shiva’s…
…Deep, sorrowful meditation,
After Sati’s death by shooting a love arrow,
Shiva reduced Kamadeva to ashes,
With his incendiary third eye.
*
In Theogony by Hesiod,
Eros, a primordial deity,
Emerging at the beginning of creation,
Is not a winged child,
But a cosmic force,
That brings order through attraction and procreation.
*
But remember,
Love alone gives breath to hope,
And warmth to mortal clay,
Where Eros dwells, the soul awakens,
And night dissolves into day.
*
So admire Eros,
In its sane form,
For without Eros,
Life may become a big bore.
***
Written and posted by Kamlesh Tripathi
Author, Poet, & Columnist
*
https://kamleshsujata.wordpress.com
*
Like it and Share it
*
Shravan Charity Mission is an NGO that works for poor children suffering from life-threatening diseases, especially cancer. Our posts are meant for our readers, including children and adults, and have a huge variety of content. We also accept donations for our mission. Should you wish to donate to the cause of cancer? The bank details are given below:
NAME OF ACCOUNT: SHRAVAN CHARITY MISSION
Account no: 680510110004635 (BANK OF INDIA)
IFSC code: BKID0006805
***
Kamlesh Tripathi
Copyright@shravancharitymission
Holi blossoms from the celestial love of Radha and Krishna. It celebrates love as boundless as the spring sky and as playful as the Yamuna in gentle tide. It is a festival where devotion and delight mingle, where laughter carries the fragrance of faith. Yet beneath its riotous colours lies a profound spiritual remembrance: the good over evil, the eternal victory of righteousness over tyranny, and of light over encroaching darkness.
The ancient legend recorded in the Bhagavata Purana narrates about the formidable Asura king Hiranyakashipu, who, through severe penance, secured a boon that made him nearly invincible. The boon gave him five special powers like. He would neither be killed by a human being nor an animal, neither indoors nor outdoors, neither during the day nor at night, neither by an astra nor by a shastra, and neither on land nor in water or air. Armoured in this seeming immortality, pride consumed him; he demanded to be worshipped as the supreme lord of all creation.
But his own son, the gentle and steadfast Prahlada, remained unwavering in his devotion to Vishnu. No amount of cruelty could shake the boy’s serene faith. In desperation, Hiranyakashipu enlisted his sister Holika, who possessed immunity against fire, to lure Prahlada into a blazing pyre. Yet destiny turned upon immunity. Holika was consumed by the flames, while the child-devotee emerged untouched, sheltered by the grace of God.
Then, at twilight’s (neither day nor night) mystic hour, when day melts into night, Lord Vishnu manifested as Narasimha, the awe-inspiring Man-Lion (neither human nor animal), upon the palace threshold (neither indoors nor outdoors). He placed Hiranyakashipu upon his lap, which was neither earth nor sky nor sea, nor air, and with his claws that were neither astra nor shastra, he tore him to pieces and killed him spontaneously. Thus was Dharma restored, and the cosmos breathed again in harmony.
Holi arrives on the full moon of Phalguna, when winter loosens its pale grasp, and the spring steps forth, in emerald splendour. It is the season when fields swell with the promise of the Rabi harvest, when old leaves drift earthward, and tender shoots unfurl like whispered hopes. Nature herself seems to celebrate, adorning the earth in rejuvenated hues, as though echoing the colours soon to dance around human figures.
To early European travellers, Holi appeared as the carnival of the Hindus, a spring revel in honour of Lord Krishna, the mesmerising cowherd whose flute once enchanted the groves of Vrindavan. Yet Holi is far more than a spectacle. Its colours are not fleeting illusions like a rainbow’s arc. On the contrary, they are living expressions of cultural memory and collective joy. Indian cinema, too, has borrowed from its palette, immortalising its exuberance in songs and dance, reminding you of the famous Amitabh Bachchan song, ‘Khai Ke Pan Banaras Wala’ from the film Don.
On the eve of the festival, towering bonfires blaze in the rite of Holika-Dahan, their flames leaping skyward as symbols of purification and moral triumph. Families carry home glowing embers, tokens of protection and auspicious beginnings. The following day, the air reverberates with laughter as clouds of abir and gulal (scented coloured powder) bloom like ephemeral blossoms. Water bursts from playful pichkaris, and voices ring out in cheerful abandon, “Bura na mano, Holi hai!” Tolis (friendly groups) wander from house to house, bearing greetings, songs, and embraces in the tender gesture of gale milna.
Sweetmeats such as gujias fragrant with khoya, crisp shakkarpaare, cooling dahi-vadas—along with thandai and the occasional draught of bhang, lend flavour to the festivities. Yet the truest sweetness lies in reconciliation. Old grievances are dissolved like colour in water. Estranged hearts find renewed warmth. Holi becomes not merely a festival of hues, but a celebration of restored relationships and shared humanity.
Though rooted in the Indian subcontinent, Holi’s vibrant spirit has travelled far with the diaspora, painting distant shores with its exuberant shades. Sometimes exoticised, sometimes misunderstood, it nonetheless endures as an indelible emblem of India’s cultural soul, and a radiant affirmation that after every winter of discord, spring returns in splendour, and goodness, like colour, inevitably prevails.
Written and posted by Kamlesh Tripathi
Author, Poet, & Columnist
*
https://kamleshsujata.wordpress.com
*
Like it and Share it
*
Shravan Charity Mission is an NGO that works for poor children suffering from life-threatening diseases, especially cancer. Our posts are meant for our readers, including children and adults, and have a huge variety of content. We also accept donations for our mission. Should you wish to donate to the cause of cancer? The bank details are given below:
NAME OF ACCOUNT: SHRAVAN CHARITY MISSION
Account no: 680510110004635 (BANK OF INDIA)
IFSC code: BKID0006805
***
26/2/26
ECONOMIC TIMES
MICHELANGELO HATED PAINTING THE SISTINE CHAPEL
‘The Renaissance man complained that working on the ceiling was “torture” because he was “not a painter”‘
When a red chalk drawing of a woman’s foot by Michelangelo sold at an auction for $27.2 million on February 5, it blew past all expectations. Experts believe it to be a study of the figure of the Libyan Sibyl, a female prophet who appears on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel in Rome. Michelangelo painted the iconic frescos from 1508 to 1512, but he first sketched out the overall composition and details in a series of preparatory drawings. The sale brought attention to Michelangelo’s lifelong devotion to drawing.
Papal pleas
In 1506, Pope Julius II put Michelangelo’s sculpting work on the papal tomb at St Peter’s Basilica on hold, redirecting the funds to the renovation of the basilica itself. Michelangelo responded by closing his studio. He ordered his workshop assistants to sell off its contents, abandoned 90 wagonloads’ worth of marble and left Rome in disgust.
In 1508, Julius and his intermediary, Cardinal Francesco Alidosi, were able to lure Michelangelo back to Rome with the promise of a 500-ducat payment and a contract to paint the Sistine. Still, sculpture, not painting, was central to Michelangelo’s identity. In a Michelangelo-approved biography by Ascanio Condivi, the artist is said to have abandoned a painter’s workshop to train in the arts patron Lorenzo de’ Medici’s Florence. He complained to his father that painting “is not my profession” and told the pope that painting “is not my art”.
“I’ve grown a goitre from this torture,” he wrote to his friend Giovanni da Pistoia in an illustrated poem. “My stomach’s squashed under my chin, my beard’s pointing at heaven, my brain’s crushed in a casket, my breast twists like a harpy’s. My brush, above me all the time, dribbles paint so my face makes a fine floor for droppings!”
“My painting is dead,” he concludes. “I am not in the right place – I am not a painter.”
Preferring the process
The poem’s accompanying caricature shows him using drawing to reflect his mind’s inner workings. His biographer Giorgio Vasari famously used the term ‘disegno’ to mean both a physical drawing and a work’s overall ‘design’. Michelangelo created many drawings for the Sistine that reflected the different meanings of disegno, including sketches of models, architectural renderings of the huge space and full-size ‘cartoons’.
As such, while painting the ceiling was arduous, the process of conceiving it through drawing was obviously rewarding for him. Contrapposto, or the classical ‘counter-poise’, was the iconic stance for standing figures such as Michelangelo’s ‘David’. He made many studies for the Sistine referencing this sculptural pose.
Despite the popularity of the Sistine frescoes, Michelangelo rarely returned to painting afterwards. In 1534, Pope Clement VII commissioned him to paint ‘The Last Judgment’, which he only began working on after Clement died and his successor, Pope Paul III, bestowed Michelangelo with the title of Chief Architect, Sculptor, and Painter to the Vatican Palace. In 1563, he would go on to be named master of the Accademia del Disegno in Florence, which focused on teaching drawing and design as skills necessary for sculpture, architecture and painting.
Posted by Kamlesh Tripathi
Author, Poet, & Columnist
*
https://kamleshsujata.wordpress.com
*
Like it and Share it
*
Shravan Charity Mission is an NGO that works for poor children suffering from life-threatening diseases, especially cancer. Our posts are meant for our readers, including children and adults, and have a huge variety of content. We also accept donations for our mission. Should you wish to donate to the cause of cancer? The bank details are given below:
NAME OF ACCOUNT: SHRAVAN CHARITY MISSION
Account no: 680510110004635 (BANK OF INDIA)
IFSC code: BKID0006805
***
Shravan charity mission 