Memories of A Misty Morning by The Lake

Memories of A Misty Morning by The Lake

Memories Of A Misty Morning By The Lake

A misty morning by the lake is enchantingly beautiful. It casts a magical spell over you. You are surrounded by the beauty of nature, enveloped in peace. No storms of disquiet or restlessness brewing within you, but a profound peace that descends on you, unless you let mundane thoughts intrude into your blissful world.

The lakes, the rivers, the seas and the oceans have always held a deep fascination for mankind. From the Greek mythology, where Narcissus, the son of river god Cephissus, looked into a pool and fell in love with his reflection in the water to the reality of the drowning of Virginia Woolf (a beautiful mind!) who quietly walked into the River Ouse, near her home to end it all. From the earliest seafarers who sailed across seas and oceans, across continents,  to the poets who sang paeans to the seas. Thomas Campbell’s Lord Ullin’s Daughter is poignant, the tragic drowning in the turbulent seas pulls at our heartstrings. Sarojini Naidu’s Coromandel Fishers frolic in the “kiss of the spray” and the “dance of the wild foam’s glee” at the sea. The call of the sea is irresistible, an endless fascination!

I believe we are wanderers at heart.

Here are quotes by Carl Sagan and Paulo Coelho. Reflect on these.


“Exploration is in our nature. We began as wanderers, and we are wanderers still. We have lingered long enough on the shores of the cosmic ocean. We are ready at last to set sail for the stars.”
― Carl SaganCosmos

“We are all souls wandering the cosmos and, at the same time, living our lives, but with a sense that we are passing from one incarnation to another. If something touches to the core of our soul, it is remembered forever and affects whatever comes afterward.”
― Paulo Coelho


Here are my poems and my painting (beginner)

The Wandering Soul

 Here under waters blue, dark, deep

My soul  lies imprisoned in eternal  sleep

Freeing myself from walls, high and steep

Forlorn I keep still and silently weep.


My soul clings to hope, yearns for light

Darkness descends, light no more in sight

Long to soar on wings and take flight

Merge with the moon and stars at night.


The soul thus chained is free at last

Hovering over lands and oceans vast

Moving around  in swirling waters  fast

A  brilliant light on earth to cast.



My heart craves for moments 

To indulge my soul in bliss

Away from toils and cares of this world

To eternity and immeasurable peace. 


My mind delves into depths of time

Seeking treasures sublime

Hold moments captive in memory’s realms

Recollections like fragments of shattered dreams. 


My soul weary sailing turbulent storms of life

Swirling in life’s discord and strife

Longing for that bright day dawning

To merge with infinity yearning.


Copyright@Nandita Das 2015



On the trail of “that lost thought /idea that could have changed the world”

On the trail of “that lost thought /idea that could have changed the world”

Have you ever experienced this? A sudden idea strikes you.  A thought.  The spark of a brilliant inspiration. It descends on you in the middle of nowhere, when you least expect it when you are simply going about your daily life, unprepared for that great insight, that brainwave to strike you. You want to capture it. On paper. Write it down, before it escapes your memory. Make it your plot. Your story. Your book. Your magnum opus, so to speak. You realise in an instant that this is no passing thought. Not an average, common, garden-variety one. But a great illuminating flash, an epiphany, no less.

And right there, your sleep-laden mind works on that vague idea and converts it into a plot for your story and how beautifully the plot unfolds and flows seamlessly into a captivating story.

Well, it happened with me. Last night, just as I was falling asleep, I had this brilliant flash. A great plot. A sequence. I plotted the entire novel in my sleep and even went as far as the second and third book in the series. All in that half-asleep state.

But amazingly, when I woke up at the break of dawn, much to my dismay, I found that brilliant, inspirational intuition, that great idea had escaped without a trace, along with plot, story, book, series and all. It was as if it was a dream and no such thought had crossed my mind., when in fact, although asleep,  I had spent the better part of the night, building up my idea into story lines, chapters and books.

I even remember screaming “Eureka”, in my sleep, because that’s what you’re supposed to do when you discover something of great significance, that will have a great bearing on this world. Change the world, impact the world, if you will.

But thoughts and ideas are slippery entities. They escape into another world. So, where do all these thoughts go? You can’t expect to retain them unless you capture them on paper. Or if you have a photographic memory, you could capture them on the canvas of your mind.

Maybe, I thought, if I just lay down again and pretended to be asleep, it would return contrite, begging for my forgiveness, for having thus escaped, without notice. So after a long futile chase, on the trail of my lost thought, down memory lane, I decided to rest awhile. Because the law of expectation states that things or people are more likely to appear when you least expect them. I can’t vouch for this, though. So, my plan was to lie in wait, allow the big thought to revisit, not knowing that I am right there lurking in the corner, waiting to pounce upon it and capture it, before it could elude my grasp again.

But try as I might, it was like a mirage, shining at a distance, shimmering, beckoning me, but as I approached it stealthily, it disappeared into oblivion, floating in the sub-conscious,  diving deeper into the mists of my clouded mind, always eluding my grasp.

No gun can capture, no net can ensnare a “thought” that has escaped the mind. It needs to return of its own free will.

So, here am I, still on its trail. Sadly, the world will have  to wait for that magnum opus.


Treasures of the mind


Misty memories
Of moth eaten moments
Of an enchanted evening
A nostalgic night
In a haze
Floats to mind
A vivid vision
So elusive and ephemeral
Slip out of memory's clasp
Into an illusory world.
Oh! Give me back
Those moth- eaten moments
Those misty memories
Those memorable moments
Those meditative musings.


Thoughts, images, impressions, musings
 Churning, whirling, spinning, swirling 
In the inner sanctum of the mind 
Dwelling, screening, sheltering, nurturing
Yearning for expression
 Passions, emotions, sentiments, feelings
 Aching, pining, craving, seeking
 On the canvas of the mind 
Sprouting, budding, blooming, blossoming
 Bursting in a riot of expressions. 


A Poem & School Days Memories

A Poem & School Days Memories

Yesterday, Lathika my best friend from school days, who is now in London, called up. We had a great time conversing, taking a trip down memory lane as we lost track of time. It was as if the years rolled back and the miles melted away and there we were sitting beside each other reminiscing the sweet memories of our school days. Our school was an Elysium. I remember the beautiful red Gul Mohar and purple Jacaranda adorning our school campus. We had great teachers. Our school moulded our lives, our destinies. 

Here’s my poem, “Newton’s Law” reminiscent of school days.


Newton’s Law

I was inattentive in Science class one day

When the teacher at random looked my way

I didn’t look up, I wouldn’t dare

There’s no escaping that intense glare.


Asked me to explain to the class

Newton’s Law of Gravity and mass

My mind was a blank, heart beats louder

For an answer, I started to flounder.


I stood before the class trembling with fear

“Gravity,” I said…and then oh dear!!!

I fell off the stage onto the floor

How the class with laughter did roar.


The children tittered in great amusement

They didn’t know my sad predicament

The teacher said, “You’ve demonstrated gravity”

“Although you did it with much levity”.


At length, I returned to my seat

With much applause did they greet

Now I look back upon this and ponder

I decide to listen and not let my mind wander.

Copyright@Nandita Das