Gardens in bloom

With nothing worthwhile to say, I decided to upload these pictures which I randomly captured except the rainbow which I have borrowed from a friend. Unfortunately by the time I saw it, it was too fade to be captured.

The Petunias are from our garden (I have no contribution in their looking this good whatsoever). Rest of the pictures were taken at the campus and the poster on the top was designed for the spring festival which we organized at the department.

Amrita Pritam - Raseedi Ticket

I have just finished reading Amrita Pritam’s autobiography, Raseedi Ticket. I hadn’t read any of her works before and it was a nice introduction indeed. I would also recommend reading this article; it gives a good insight into the life and works of Amrita Pritam.

My rough translation of a few excerpts from Amrita Pritam’s Raseedi Ticket.

“The wedding procession had arrived and dinner had been served. Father got a message that if a relative asks; tell them that this much money has been given as dowry. Father took this message as an indication. He didn’t have that kind of money, he panicked.

We fretted for hours. A friend of my late mother who had come that day as a guest understood everything. She took us aside, removed the gold bangles from her hand and placed them in front of my father. Father’s eyes had tears but for me seeing all this was worse than death.

Then we got to know that the message delivered earlier wasn’t some kind of indication rather a way to satisfy some relatives. Mother’s friend put his bangles back on. But it feels that moment, during which she removed those bangles, as a symbol, will always remain standing in the history of world’s goodness.”


"My writings; poem or prose…I know are like an illegitimate child. The reality of my world fell in love with the dream of my heart and this banned union produced my writings.
I know, my writings would have a fate like the fate of an illegitimate child and it would have to face the frowns of the literary society all his life...”

This poem below was written on the massacre of 1947. It would be a good idea to listen or read the original version first. Here.

'I call upon Waris Shah today: speak from your grave
And add a new page to your book of love
Once, one daughter of Punjab wept, and you wrote your long saga;
Today, thousands weep, calling to you Waris Shah:
Arise, o friend of the afflicted; arise and see the state of Punjab,
Corpses strewn on fields, and the Chenab flowing with much blood.
Someone filled the five rivers with poison,
And this same water now irrigates our soil.
Where was lost the flute, where the songs of love sounded?
And all Ranjha’s brothers forgotten to play the flute.
Blood has rained on the soil, graves are oozing with blood,
The princesses of love cry their hearts out in the graveyards.
Today all the Kaidos have become the thieves of love and beauty,
Where can we find another one like Waris Shah?
Waris Shah! I say to you, speak from your grave
And add a new page to your book of love.'
(Translated by Darshan Singh Maini, Studies in Punjabi Poetry)