Chrysanthemum Chronicles, Anniversary Edition 2022

Anniversary Edition 2022

Cover Story & Interview with Captain Beetashok Chatterjee Poems & Stories on 'Love' Winning Poems from the prompt 'Her Clandestine Smile' .

Signature Collection

This volume is a collection of an interview, poems, short stories by multiple authors who assert the moral right to be identified as the authors of the content in this edition. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electrical, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

Front Cover & Back Cover Image Credit: Pixabay Website All the supporting images for the content are from Pixabay Website.

Cover Story and interview images credit rests with Captain Beetashok Chatterjee

Copyright © 2022 Individual Authors & Poets All rights reserved.

Meet the

Editors EDITOR Monalisa Joshi

SENIOR EDITOR Deepak K Choudhary

SENIOR EDITOR Nandita De nee Chatterjee

ASSOCIATE EDITOR Shristee Singh

Published and Printed by Chrysanthemum Chronicles : A Contemporary Publishing House Editorial Office A-57, Paryavran Complex, Shop 1, Lower Ground Floor, New Delhi-110030 Email: editorialmagazinecc@gmail.com Printed & Bound @ Thomson Press 18.35 Delhi Mathura Road Faridabad-121007, Haryana

Kitu Gidwani is an Indian actress and model. She has starred in some movies as well as serials in Indian television. She became popular after a TV series, Air Hostess which was aired on Doordarshan in 1986, and received critical acclaim for her roles in Dance of the Wind (1997), Deepa Mehta's Earth (1998), Govind Nihalani's Rukhmavati Ki Haveli (1991), Kamal

KITU GIDWANI

Haasan's Abhay and Deham (2001).

Kitu made her television debut in 1984 in the TV soap Trishna, and during the 1980s and '90s, gave some memorable performances in TV serials like Swabhimaan, Air Hostess and Junoon. She caught a lot of attention after her kissing scene in bed with actor Raj Zutshi in Junoon.

She appeared in multi-starrer Hindi serials Kaashish and Kulvadhu. In 1997, she played the role of a Hindustani classical singer, Pallavi, who struggles to get her voice back after losing her mentor/mother, in Dance of the Wind. The role won her Best Actress Award at the Three Continents Festival, Nates.

Source: FilmiBeat

Image Credit: Kitu Gidwani

Table of contents 06

Editor's Note 07 Cover Story & Interview with

Captain Beetashok Chatterjee

13 Exclusive Interview with the

Authors of the book, Macabre Tales

19 Studio Quaintrelle , A Column

by Nandita De nee Chatterjee

25 Stories & Poems on Love

26. Love is a Many Splendoured Thing

by Deepti Menon 31. Soulmates by Pooja Sinha 35. The Rainy Day by Aditi Lahiry 38. Can I Ever be your Meera? by Indrani Chatterjee 40. Remembering You by Deeksha Raina 41. Hopelessly in Love by Lubna Ahmed 42. You and I by Leena Auckel 43. A Winter Love Story by Prasenjit Das 44. Love Garden by Anandavalli Chandran 46. The River of my Heart by Dr. Paramita Mukherjee Mullick 47. Dizzy, Tizzy Love! by Madhu Gangopadhyay 48. Parijat- The Night Jasmine by Preeti S. Manaktala 50. The Tuscan Sun by Nandita De nee Chatterjee 51. Lovers Over the Half Moon and the Half Sun! by Monalisa Joshi

Table of Contents 53

Her Clandestine Smile 54. The Smile of Retribution by Kokila Gupta 56. The Famed Lady of Mystery by Deepti Menon 58. Monalisa's Sweet Revenge by Gowri Bhargav 60. My Madonna of Hope by Dr. Paromita Mukherjee Ojha 62. I am Da Vinci's Lisa by Rohini Jayanti 64. The Elusive Angel by Nandita De nee Chatterjee 66 Carpe Diem by Dr. Pragya Bajpai 67. Monalisa, By Your Leave by Preeti Brahmin 69. Dark Mysteries by Anindita Ray 71. The Smile that Touched my Soul by Jayashree Pillai

72 Book Reviews

73. Review of Runcible Spoons and Peagreen Boats 76. Review of Demigods Are Alive

Chrysanthemum Chronicles/Anniversary Edition 2022

EDITOR'S NOTE

“Take my hand, take my whole life too. For I can’t help falling in love with you.” —Elvis Presley These are the favourite lines of mine from Elvis Presley’s song, ‘Can’t Help Falling in Love’. Isn’t this we all should do, time and again? Fall in love with our loved ones, our friends our family as much we can, every day.

Perhaps love is the only thing that binds us together for all the good or the bad that happens to us. It teaches us to accept change, to understand the philosophy of life from different lenses and to accept it for our evolution.

Talking about change, I have a piece of news to share with you all, that Chrysanthemum Chronicles Journal is metamorphosing into something new. We have given this transformation a name as well. It’s called and will be known as ‘Bellissimi’ which means beautiful in Italian dialect and these are going to be more beautiful than ever in their content but look and feel as well. We are transforming the journal into Hardbound premium quality books. Thus, this issue here will be our last edition of Chrysanthemum Chronicles’ which we proudly present to you as the Anniversary Edition because we have completed three years this February only, as a literary group.

As a guiding light this last edition has been edited by our Senior Editor Nandita De nee Chatterjee and it has also become possible and come into existence to last for very long, because of all our lovely contributors.

I along with my Editorial Board wish you a happy reading from this edition.

Monalisa Joshi Editor

6

7

Chrysanthemum Chronicles/ Anniversary Edition 2022

Cover Story & Interview With

Captain Beetashok Chatterjee

Chrysanthemum Chronicles/ Anniversary Edition 2022

Interview by Shristee Singh

Associate Editor (Cc)

Looking for short stories I often delve into O. Henry or Somerset Maugham but all thanks to Captain Beetashok Chatterjee, I got to read short stories set up in a contemporary environment with the lingo that has not only the charm of yesteryears but also resonates with the youth. The People Tree by Beetashok provides the perfect potpourri that gives the essence of a writer seeped in experience and shows how well travelled he is.

The name of the book ‘The People Tree— stories about us and them’ is enough for the readers to understand the content.

Beetashok Chatterjee in his foreword welcomes you to sit in the shade of The People Tree to taste the fruit from his Tree of Life; read stories of the lives of some ordinary and some extraordinary people amongst us.

Yes, The People Tree is a book of the people, for the people, by one of the seasoned ‘people’ who has very conscientiously used his traveling experiences in weaving tales that take us across the different diaspora of society.

In this exclusive interview I got to see Mr. Bee from up close and personal.

AE. Your stories reflect the experience and knowledge of a seasoned sailor. From a sailor to a storyteller, your journey seems quite engrossing. What motivated you to become a writer?

Mr. Bee. I’ve always loved writing. In school, I was generally the favourite of my English teachers, much to the dismay of my classmates, for always doing well in

8

9

Chrysanthemum Chronicles/ Anniversary Edition 2022

the subject - especially anything that involved creative writing. I’ve dreamed of becoming a published author ever since I can remember.

My sea career was only by accident - a stroke of serendipity; though I grew to love the sea... For years after that - no, decades! - the only ‘creative’ writing I did as an officer and later as a ship’s captain was to send carefully worded reports and emails to my Head Office in order to stay out of trouble. It was just 8~10 years ago that I started writing again. I began with poems, mainly about the sea. Then about six years ago, I ventured into short stories.

AE. You had debuted as an author into the world of storytelling with Driftwood, Stories Washed Ashore. Had you ever thought as a sailor that you would be writing a book on sea adventures one day?

Mr. Bee. Always. I’ve always believed that our stories need to be told; our adventures and experiences are unique. Right from the late 1970s, as a young officer in the Merchant Navy, I began keeping a journal, jotting down random thoughts and experiences. I knew I would write a book someday on sea adventures when I got the time. Driftwood happened as a result in 2019.

Rather late in life; but it’s never too late, I always say.

Are these the stories of my experiences? Possibly. Are these stories based on the tales I have heard? Maybe. The truth is that the stories in Driftwood are all a seamless blend of fact and fiction, and even I do not remember where one ends and the other begins.

AE. You have authored two books so far, Driftwood, Stories Washed Ashore, and The People Tree, Stories about Us and Them. Can

you tell our readers how the two books are different and what unique elements are there in each of them?

Mr. Bee. Three, actually. I contributed to a Lockdown essay collection called The Phoenix Rises.

Driftwood is a collection of sea stories. That is, the stories are set at sea or the protagonist is or was a seaman. But these stories of the sea and of modern seafarers are not necessarily for seafarers alone. They were written for anybody and everybody who likes to read fiction tales of adventure, love, romance, piracy, intrigue... and human nature.

They are for those who want to read a ‘ripping good yarn’, as sailors used to say once upon a time.

There is not a whiff of the sea in The People Tree. For want of a better word, these are ‘land’ stories - stories of ordinary people like you and me with extraordinary experiences.

Trying to keep each story as different from the other in style and substance, I have covered a gamut of topics - from the Khalistan insurgency in Punjab in the 80s to a glimpse of the Mumbai underworld. From a doomed love affair in Hyderabad to a mature gay relationship.

From a lifelong friendship formed in the most unusual circumstances to the pangs of a schoolboy crush. Travelling to distant lands, I have written about the greatest man made disaster the world has ever seen.

While at it, I’ve even taken the liberty to rob an art museum in London. My foray into historical children’s fiction has taken me to rural Maharashtra in the 17th century. Enough variety, I hope?

Chrysanthemum Chronicles/ Anniversary Edition 2022

My favourite authors are Jeffrey Archer, Frederick Forsyth, Ken Follett and John Grisham. But of late I’ve branched out into authors I’ve never read before.

And they’re all so good! …

10

11 Chrysanthemum Chronicles / Anniversary Edition 2022

AE. The way you have metamorphosed the peepal tree, The Tree of Life, as mentioned in your foreword into The People Tree is very interesting. The name of the book is indeed very catchy and the book cover is equally complimentary. Can you tell our readers what went behind the scene for the same?

Mr. Bee. Thank you. Not many got the pun, unfortunately. I have welcomed the reader to sit in the shade of The People Tree to taste the fruit from my Tree of Life. In this case, the fruit hanging is the cluster of characters he or she will find in each of the 14 stories. This is also depicted in the cover of the book if one examines it closely.

By the way, this was not the original title I’d thought of. I wanted to call it Terra Firma (which means ‘firm ground’) since these stories were set on land, as compared to Driftwood which had only sea stories. But the publisher shot it down, saying that this book should have no connection with my previous one and should stand alone by itself. Fair enough. I then came up with The People Tree as an alternative title.

I can’t take any credit for the cover. That must go to my publisher Readomania. I too find it very attractive.

The publisher gave me several options, and finally I chose this one.

AE. Does writing come to you effortlessly or do you plan it and put down different ideas together. Do you have family members too who are interested in writing?

Mr. Bee. Effortlessly? I wish. No, it is hard work.

Writing, re-reading, editing, rewriting the whole thing...to me, they’re all part of the process. I envy writers who find it effortless. It takes me about a month to complete a short story after the idea has taken root. That’s why I don’t enter short story competitions among other reasons - the deadline gives me stress. To send a short story scribbled in a hurry and then wish you’d worded this or that differently, or had a different beginning or end...no, I wouldn’t like that.

INTERVIEW

My brother Upamanyu is a famous writer with a cult following. He has received the Sahitya Akademi Award as well as the Officier de l'Ordre des Arts et des Lettres from the French government. His first book English August was made into a film starring Rahul Bose. He’s in the big league and I’m very proud of him. No other family member writes. My son is a professional editor and literary agent, though.

AE. Writing is a thing that one does at ease. What is your zen place where words come naturally to you?

Besides writing, what other activity do you look forward to that brings you tranquility?

Mr. Bee. It is very important for a creative person to have a Zen place. A writer needs peace and quiet for hours to collect his/her thoughts and put them on paper. Inspiration doesn’t come to me by merely clicking a switch. I’d find it almost impossible to write amid noise and bustle. I have a folding desk in the corner of my bedroom where I sit with my laptop and a mug of tea. I find it the perfect spot to work.

My other hobbies include reading, walks in the park, watching good films (not any rubbish!) and listening to Western music.

AE. In The People Tree you have picked heterogeneous characters from different walks and shades of life. You have captured quite a lot of history as well. We get a glimpse of Shivaji, the 9/11 attack, the Khalistan insurgency. Which one is your personal favourite story from the book?

Mr. Bee. Yes, I’ve tried to make each story different from the other in style and substance so that they all remain distinctive in the reader’s mind, not just a blur of forgettable tales. That was the intention anyway. I have several favourites, but if I have to choose one, it’d be the last one - on the teenage heartbreak. The one where an unusual friendship is formed in London among a Bengali gentleman and two Brits is a close second. The 9/11 story would be third.

Chrysanthemum Chronicles/ Anniversary Edition 2022

12

AE. You also write poetry. Our readers would like to know whether you are more of a poet or a storyteller?

Do you plan to publish a book on poetry soon?

Mr. Bee. Both. I started my creative writing late in life with poetry. My main source of inspiration as a sea captain was, of course, the sea. Therefore I wrote only sea poems in different styles of rhyme and meter - so that they could be converted into songs. Several have been, by my musically inclined colleagues. After writing more than 40 sea poems, I decided to try my hand at short story writing. This was about six years ago. Besides these two books, I’ve completed another collection of a dozen sea stories and am hoping they get published next year.

Unfortunately, there is no market for poems. So no publisher that I’ve approached is interested. Of course, self publishing my poems is an option. Maybe I’ll do that.

I’ll need to write a few more to make it a round 50 though.

AE. Do you enjoy reading? What genre interests you the most? Who are your favourite Indian and international writers?

Mr. Bee. I love reading. I’ve been a bookworm since I was a schoolboy. By the time I’d finished school, I’d completed all of Enid Blyton’s books, as well as all the Billy Bunter, William, The Hardy Boys and the Nancy Drew books available and had already graduated to James Hadley Chase, Alistair Maclean, Harold Robbins and Leon Uris. I read all the classics in Reader’s Digest condensed form in my teens. Those days there was no internet, no mobile phones, one government channel on TV which screened a movie on Sundays. So we read and read! And we looked out of the window. And we dreamed....

I read only fiction. Thrillers, whodunits, drama mostly.

My favourite authors are Jeffrey Archer, Frederick Forsyth, Ken Follett and John Grisham. But of late I’ve branched out into authors I’ve never read before. And they’re all so good! Like Kate Atkinson, David Nicholls, David Mitchell, Anthony Horowitz….

AE. Having read Driftwood and The People Tree, we can say that you are quite a master in the art of short stories.

Do you plan to write a novel soon or do you prefer to stick to short stories?

Mr. Bee. Thank you for saying that. Even though it’s not true! After poems and short stories, I’m now trying to expand my horizons and have been working on a nonfiction full length book. It’s almost complete. It’s about - no prizes for guessing - ships and shipping misadventures throughout history. It is aimed at the nonseafarer; therefore not too technical.

I have a regular blog site Out of My Mind where I never hesitate to give my views on life in general to anyone who cares to visit. A full length novel - probably a murder mystery - is on my bucket list once I manage to get my nonfiction book and next collection of sea stories published and in bookstores.

Enough to keep me occupied for the next few years. A good reason to get up every morning and count my blessings.

exclusive

13

Chrysanthemum Chronicles/Anniversary Edition 2022

Interview with the contributing writers of this Dystopian Anthology

14 Chrysanthemum Chronicles/ Anniversary Edition 2022

Macabre Tales is the very first book published by Chrysanthemum Chronicles as a publishing house. It was initially visualized to take shape of a Dystopian Novel by the Founder and Director of Chrysanthemum Chronicles, Monalisa Joshi but turned out to be an anthology of uncanny tales with vivid stories from some incredible writers.

Edited by Nandita De nee Chatterjee, the book is a collection of uncanny tales by multiple authors. The seventeen stories from seventeen writers from different walks of life take us on an eerie ride with varied emotions, drama, mystery, and suspense.

Talking about the cover of the book. The ashen face.

The placid eyes. The cold look. The spooky cover of the book leaves one appalled. So when this opportunity came of interviewing the authors from this book, I couldn't stop myself from delving more into their minds of what inspired them to write their stories.

AE. Dr Santosh Bakaya, your story, And the Fireplace Roared On, takes us to a New Year party. We meet a lot of characters that you have portrayed so well, showing your keen observation skills. How comfortably you convert your observations into words twined with fiction! What is the secret behind creating this magic?

SB. I don’t know whether it is magic, but yes, I love to play with words, am always fascinated when words keep mutating and morphing and taking different shapes before my very eyes.

No, there is no secret behind this. What you so magnanimously call Magic, is actually that mad streak in me, which makes me jump onto the bandwagon of any genre.

But, let me confess, ghost stories have always fascinated me right from the time my dad narrated them to us, the kids, at midnight with those eerie sound effects, making us break out into goosebumps of all sizes.

Yes, I do observe things and places around me, and because of my eyes popping out of my sockets and my ears glued to the conversation of people around me, I have been labelled by my family as a Peeping Tom, an eavesdropper, and also ill-mannered. Many a time also kicked on the shins by daughter from under restaurant dining tables, when I have peeped into plates to see

INTERVIEW

what the people are eating!

But who cares, so long as I get real dialogues and real situations? A touch of verisimilitude?

Before he could tell him more about the size of the kidney stones extracted from his kidneys a couple of weeks back, he exploded: “Why should I listen to a litany of your ailments, you hypochondriac!” and dashed towards the bar where sat a knot of people discussing the nitty-gritty of life, movies, film stars, politicians, and politics, amidst an eddy of raucous giggles, loud chatter and the smell of chicken burgers being grilled in the charcoal grill in the kitchen.”

Well, this scene in my story, And the Fireplace Roared on, is a mix of fictionalized observation. I know this hypochondriac, personally, but brought him from the realms of reality into fiction. And this I am doing all the time.

AE. Dr Harshali Singh, The Patient is very different not only in terms of story but also style. There are fewer narrations and more dialogues. The Patient is not just an intriguing story but has many undercurrents of social-political nexus. Harshali, can you throw more light on the topic the story talks about?

HS. While I was writing The Patient, it was not with the intent to make a social commentary. I just wanted to write a good medico-psychological story with a twist. But I think the socio-politically charged air that we breathe every day inevitably seeps into our writing.

How can we, as women who are affected the most and also stand to lose the most, stay unaffected by the change and churn our society is currently going through?

15 Chrysanthemum Chronicles/ Anniversary Edition 2022

The story is about two men playing mind games with each other. It is about winning at any cost and life in the real world where more often than not...not so nice people win. The story is about finding a person more devious than you are. It is about having the flaw of an inflated ego, a God complex and the and the entitlement that being on either side of the divide affords you; education notwithstanding. In that queue, everyone is equally entitled and equally a victim.

The perception and who we support make us pick a side.

The Patient is a story based in a hospital but represents the ecosystems of our society where people will hold onto their manufactured beliefs and prejudices despite being unaware if they will survive to the next minute.

They would choose to hold onto their hate rather than find peace as a drowning man holds onto a broken piece of a sinking ship.

The patient also explores the grey areas that elusive success can lead to.

AE. Antra in your story ‘Last of the Pench Tigers’ you have brought alive the happenings in the jungle. The resilient characters build-up by you is awe-inspiring.

You take us deep into the jungle with your words. So much so, that readers can feel a close association that you share with nature. Tell us more about your tryst with nature that led you to create realistic jungle vibes in your story.

AB. I was born in a different time, when children used to be much closer to nature, they played with mud, wood, stones and water. My tryst with the actual forests is limited to vacations. We have played hide and seek in the bushes, taken wildflowers home, and played amidst long shoots of wild grass. I guess, I have carried that untamed spirit with me. Not only in terms of the natural elements but also the wild and fiery side of human character that grows and lives amidst them.

Today, we have almost given up that identity and daring to be one with the wild. But, it is an undeniable

INTERVIEW

fact that nature teaches and nurtures human beings who flow in its rhythm and cohabit with its elements.

I believe that after the flight of development and urbanization, we will take a flight back to nature. We may forget that we are her children, but she never forgets it. It's only a matter of time.

AE. Monalisa Joshi, The Last Train to Earth is quite an uncanny love story. You have built up very well the suspense of the person behind the veil in the story. What was the main inspiration behind The Last Train to Earth? Is there any message you want to convey through your story?

MJ. Shristee, I have always felt inside my heart that one life is never enough for being in love with our soulmates. I believe that we meet them in another life again and again. I often feel that in the end it would be just moving from one room to another, or perhaps from one house to another carrying along with us that love into that greater beyond. Yes! You can say I am a hopelessly romantic person and so most of my stories revolve around the element of love, but not so much like the fairy tales type. I try to give them some mystical elements if I am writing in the thriller genre, but my motive in this story again remained the same of expressing that it was love again that made the protagonist cross the realm she was from to be able to see her lover for once.

You will find this message that there is life on another plane where lovers unite after a long wait and how incessantly a woman waits for her man to come to her, has been the source of my inspiration and it’s somewhere my inner feeling as well which I have reflected time and again in many of my works.

16 Chrysanthemum Chronicles/Anniversary Edition 2022

Thus you can see that you have a dreamer here who believes in a surreal world and thus I paint my stories with such surrealism very often. The message I wish to convey is simple - that love is what makes us cling to life and love is what we will leave behind to be reminded of us.

AE. Sreeparna Sen, The Elixir and the Nemesis is one of the fast-paced stories in the anthology. The character of Jay is quite complicated. What went behind your mind while creating the character Sreeparna?

SS. The Elixir and the Nemesis is one of the first thriller stories I ever wrote, that too about a serial killer. It was a unique experience though. About the main character Jay, when I started sketching his character, I had decided one thing about his character. There should be no sob story to justify his cruel acts. He loves the thrill in murdering and uses that experience in his writing. And that is what makes him dangerous.

Also I wanted to describe one of his ghastly acts but wrapped it as a part of a fictional tale written by him to tone down the effect.

Overall this was not one of my usual genres but I tried to justify nonetheless.

AE. Dr. Paromita Mukherjee Ojha, Love with Fire is a very interesting title for the story in the anthology. There are many things happening in the story but you chose to highlight the fire element in the title. Why did you specifically choose this title?

PM. Significance of the Title, Love With Fire - It is believed that fire or Agni influences human nature in two ways - on the positive side, fire purifies the soul to attain higher consciousness and on the negative side, fire represents that aspect of our character that indulges in material desire over things that we believe we want, rather than things which we actually need.

INTERVIEW

In the story, the antagonist believes she loves the hero. However, her obsession leads her on a path that would probably lead her to nothingness. She channelises the negative energy of fire.

The same fire, on the other hand, acts as a catalyst for the hero as his emotions are awakened for the heroine. He burns his misunderstandings and like a phoenix rises from the ashes of his misguided beliefs and offers his heart to the heroine to cherish and love forever.

These were my thoughts while deciding on the title of the short story.

AE. Preeti S. Manaktala, your story, Being Immortal, is a lucid love story with an uncanny element. The characters of Samara and Keith seem to be made for each other. However, with the twists and turns in the story, do you feel Keith could have helped Samara with the problems she was going through?

PM. Writing a dystopian story was a fledgling attempt as well as a learning experience. I am glad I could write one.

Keith was well aware of the deliriousness and the schizophrenic nature of his wife Samara. Yet, he was constantly trying to be hopeful and positive and believed that her illness would be cured with constant care, attention and love. But when in her madness she did the unthinkable - that is when Keith realised that Samara’s illness was getting out of control.

Also, during one of her schizophrenic episodes and suicidal attempts, Samara had blurted the dark truth to Keith about how three years ago she had poisoned his mother who was against their marriage. This was the last straw. It came as a jolt and Keith lost all his love and trust for Samara and thought that it would be best to let her go.

17 Chrysanthemum Chronicles/ Anniversary Edition 2022

AE. Preethi Warrier, your story, Fly with me Love, is an emotional story of one of the most sensitive years of one's life in reference to the Indian context where a girl gets married without knowing the other family much. Is there any social message you want to deliver through your story?

PW. Yes definitely, I’ve tried to blend a message with my story. The protagonist is born rich and privileged. She is pampered by her overprotective parents and then married off to someone who they think is perfect for her, a handsome NRI with loads of money.

But somewhere along the line, in their effort to make their daughter’s life comfortable, they overlook the importance of proper education, a career and financial independence for a woman. And like many other parents in our country, they treat their daughter like a princess until she’s married, but the very next day she’s labelled ‘Paraya Dhan’ (someone else’s property). Through my story, I wish to reinforce the significance of girls being educated and independent, because, married or spinsters, working or home makers, women should be confident enough to stand on their own feet.

AE. Rashmi Agrawal, your story, In Your Bloody Eyes, is a sci-fi fiction in the anthology. It is a very unique take with interesting twists in the story. What was the idea behind mixing the real world with the virtual world?

INTERVIEW

RA. Sci-Fi as a genre always intrigues me more in short stories than novels. Virtual and augmented reality have just the right scope for inculcating magic or horror alongside boring, nerdy technology.

Several VR-based real estate projects have cropped up in the luxurious market, which was my inspiration for this story.

Infusing olfactory in virtual reality was a new approach though, which is still in the experimentation stage in the real world. And then a murder completes the macabre angle to it.

AE. Nandita De, your story, Forbidden, is marked by small dialogues and narratives. In very few words you say a lot and have created an uncanny story without much hyperbole. Can you tell us more about your writing style? What tools do you keep in mind while writing?

ND. Thank you, Shristee. Writing is second nature to me, ever since I can remember. Stories and poetry cast a spell on me, and I'm only too willing to remain in that spell. But somewhere between fiction and fantasy, I developed a powerful urge to explore and depict reality. That is today the springboard of my poetry and even some stories. My work in journalism gave me rare exposure to real life ordeals as well as achievements. On the other hand, my studies in literature formed the foundation of my writing style, while journalism chiselled it.

I did my post graduation from Jadavpur University where the eminent faculty both inspired and educated us.

Perhaps my reading of criticisms of Flaubert has to do with my fastidiousness for the right usage of language. By now I can feel I have developed my own voice whereas creative writing is concerned. My connection to a theme is immediate and for me integrity to my thought process is the sole deciding factor. I like to be simple and honest, without unnecessary exaggeration and frivolity. I try to express myself in the most natural way without ever consciously resorting to literary devices or convoluted phrases. I simply stick to my natural thinking process. I try to maintain a spontaneous flow. Also my writing is modern, both in journalism and creative work, unless I'm doing a period piece. Honesty to myself is really the narrative of all my work.

18 Chrysanthemum Chronicles/ Anniversary Edition 2022

INTERVIEW CONDUCTED BY ASSOCIATE EDITOR SHRISTEE SINGH

Shristee Singh is currently working as an Associate Editor with Chrysanthemum Chronicles, a contemporary publishing house.

A postgraduate in economics, Shristee nurtures love for writing. Besides writing for her blog Shristeesphere and Momspresso, she contributes to various literary forums.

Coming from St. Mary’s Convent, Ramnee Nainital, she had been a constant contributor to her school magazine. While in Isabella Thoburn College, Lucknow, she was recognized for her contribution to English Poetry in the Youth Festival of Lucknow Mahotsav. She had been a nominee for the Author of the Year 2019 at StoryMirror for her contribution towards English Literature.

She has been published in several anthologies; Out of the Woods and Poems from 30 Best Poets by Literaturelight, A Kaleidoscope of Asia by Asian Literary Society, Rewind by Artoonsinn Room9, Indian Summer in Verses by Plethora Blogzine now Chrysanthemum Chronicles, Arising from the Dust by The Archaic House Artoonsinn, Quilled by Patriotism and Roobaroo by Criticspace, Airavata by Mayakatha.

She is coming up with her book soon titled Cosmic Vibes: from chaos to quietude which is going to be published by Chrysanthemum Chronicles.

When not writing, you can find her either reading or running, either behind her kids or in some marathon!

19 Anniversary Edition2022

Chrysanthemum Chronicles

Studio

Quaintrelle A Column by Nandita De nee Chatterjee

A Facebook Group by Studio Quaintrelle

20 Chrysanthemum Chronicles/ Anniversary Edition 2022

In the spinning vortex of infinity lies the story of the genesis. Into this realm of darkness soars the consciousness, seeking its way, exploring the magnificent, the mysterious.

The mind doesn't cease to believe. Vision never fails.

The passion of a few illuminates the paths of others.

They dream in words, verses or strokes. They see with their hearts, read with their minds, freeze with their lens.

Their knives scratch the surface of rocks, spin dreams into looms, build homes from the arid earth.

Nandita De nee Chatterjee Senior Editor, Chrysanthemum Chronicles

They are the creators. They are the artists. They sway to the faraway tune. They hum an unheard note.

Into this world we will delve and unravel the beauty of longing hearts and thinking minds. Those who scan the times, look beyond past and present. The seekers, the visionaries, the craftsmen of dreams.

A mission to sieve through the archives, explore our heritage, and further our fading traditions. Carve out some new.

Art Architecture Artistry Photographs Personalities Movements Melodies Tunes Words Wisdom Wishes With great jubilation I'm embarking on this journey with Chrysanthemum Chronicles and Monalisa Joshi, Founder-Director-Chief Editor of Cc, in launching the Studio Quantraille Pages in print. Studio Quantraille, a Facebook Page and Group, was launched on January 1, 2018. These four years have been packed with resplendent explorations into Planet Earth and the achievements and celebrations of humanity in diverse fields. Very often we've crossed boundaries and delved into unplanned areas. History, geography, science and culture - at both micro and macro levels, we eulogize the human initiative.

We have no scope for negativity in the world and we choose to steer clear from it. I intend to open this treasure trove which I've been filling and present some precious nuggets. There is much in store. Embark on this journey with us. And enjoy the ride.

Four years back I launched this initiative with the invocation of the Gayatri Mantra. Hence, we begin this print version with the same invocation. I will also try to put forward the meaning and significance of this prayer, as collated from digital space.

21 Chrysanthemum Chronicles/ Anniversary Edition 2022

Gayatri Mantra The Gayatri Mantra in Devanagari: ॐ भूर्भुवः स्वः तत्सवितुर्वरेण्यं भर्गो देवस्य धीमहि धियो यो नः प्रचोदयात् ॥ oṃ bhūr bhuvaḥ svaḥ tat savitur vareṇyaṃ bhargo devasya dhīmahi dhiyo yo naḥ prachodayāt – Rig Veda 3.62.10 Gayatri Mantra English Translation: We meditate on the glory of the Creator; Who has created the Universe; Who is worthy of Worship; Who is the embodiment of Knowledge and Light; Who is the remover of all Sin and Ignorance; May He enlighten our Intellect.

Image Source: Canva Site

Gayatri Mantra meaning: O, Divine mother, our hearts are loaded up with darkness. Kindly make this darkness distant from us and advance brightening inside us.

According to the Vedas, time has three qualities: satva, rajas and tamas. (Purity, passion and inaction).

4 am to 8 am and 4 pm to 8 pm have the satvic quality 8 am to 4 pm are rajasic 8 pm and 4 am are tamasic Satva is the best time to chant the Gayatri Mantra.

Hence, the Gayatri Mantra should be recited between 4 am and 8 am and 4 pm and 8 am.

Source - Times Of India

Chrysanthemum Chronicles/ Anniversary Edition 2022

The word Gayatri is composed of two words, “Gaya” which means “reveal” and “tri” which means “three Vedas”.

In Vedic literature, which comprises the four Vedas, the number of mantras count upto 100,000. The Upanishads, being innumerable in number, contain innumerable verses, although the Muktaka Upanishad defines 108 principal Upanishads. According to Srimad Bhagwatam (12.13.4-9) and Skanda Purana, Puranic literature has 525,000 mantras.

Out of these above mantras, the Gayatri Mantra is considered to be the greatest of all. According to Bhagavad Gita (10.35), “Of the hymns in the Sama Veda, I am the Brhat-sama, and of poetry I am the Gayatri. Of months, I am Margasirsa (November-December) and of seasons, I am flower-bearing spring.”

The Gayatri Mantra is found in the oldest Vedic literature, the Rig Veda (3.62.10).

As per the Smarta Brahmanas, the Gayatri Mantra is a representative of Suryadev. In a deeper aspect, it represents the solar energy perspective of the Supreme Lord, as it is representative of Surya Narayana or the eye of the Lord.

The Gayatri Mantra is also a representative of Devi Saraswati since she teaches the devotee to pray to the Supreme Lord.

Gayatri Mantra is especially meant for God realisation.

It represents the Supreme Lord. The Gayatri is considered to be the sound incarnation of Brahman.

According to Hari Bhakti Vilasa, the Brahma Gayatri Mantra is a prayer to Gayatri Devi, the eternal consort of Sri Vishnu. She is also called Laksmi, Saraswati, Savitri and Sandhya.

Brahma Gayatri Mantra The Brahma Gayatri mantra comprised of three portions: * Om: The Pranava or the basic syllable of Vedic mantras * The three Vyahrtis: The representatives of higher planetary systems and levels of consciousness (bhur bhuva swaha) * The Savitri mantra: The central mantra of Gayatri (tat savitur…)

22

Chrysanthemum Chronicles/ Anniversary Edition 2022

Word by word meaning of Gayatri Mantra: Om It is the primordial sound which represents the Supreme Lord. It is the sound representative of Lord Krishna. This Omkara is known as maha-vakya, or the supreme sound.

Bhur It represents the earth as the physical plane. It also represents Lord Krishna as the perfection of all qualities and his form of Lord Brahma as the creator.

Bhuvah It represents the sky as the astral plane. It also represents Lord Krishna as the all-powerful and his form of Lord Narayana as the maintainer.

Svaha It represents heaven as the mental plane. It also represents Lord Krishna as the reservoir of pleasure and his form of Lord Shiva as the destroyer.

Tat It addresses the Supreme personality of God. Savitur It represents the predominating deity of the sun, Hiranmaya i.e.

Sri Narayana having a golden hue.

Summarising all the definitions of the Brahma Gayatri mantra, Hari Bhakti Vilasa decodes the definition of the mantra as follows: “Let us meditate {dhimahi) upon the Parambrahma (tat), who is the cause of all causes, (om), and the destroyer of all existence in the universe (bhur, bhuvah, svah). As the independent source of all energy and life (bhargo), He is the shining (devasya) Supersoul of the sun (savitur). Let us use our intelligence (prachodayat) to reach the transcendental world.”

Source - Indian Express

Varenyam It represents the Supreme person, who is worthy of all respects and worship and who illuminates the entire creation.

Bhargo It represents the divine unalloyed pure effulgence of the lord. It also represents Srimati Radharani.

Devasya It represents the all glowing personality of godhead, indifferent to this material creation.

Dhimahi It represents meditation or offering prayers unto him.

Dhiyo yo naha It represents the inspiration given to the mind by the Lord.

Prachodayat It represents the guidance by the Supreme Lord Vishnu as per his will for our ultimate wellbeing.

23

Chrysanthemum Chronicles/Anniversary Edition 2022

Health Benefits of Gayatri Mantra Brings calmness to mind.

Improves immunity to diseases.

Improves learning ability. Increases concentration.

Helps improve breathing.

Improves functioning of nerves.

Keeps depression and stress away.

Gets rid of toxins.

Helps in improving asthma symptoms.

Source - Google The Gayatri Mantra is a universal prayer. It is meant to address the Immanent and Transcendent Divine ... Lastly, the prayer appeals to the Divine and asks it to awaken and strengthen our intellect. This sacred chant demonstrates unity.

Art By Sujoy Roy

The Gayatri Mantra is one of the most powerful Mantras dedicated to the Mother of the Vedas and the Goddess of the five elements Gayatri, also known as Savitri ... The reason why Goddess Gayatri holds such an esteemed position is that she represents infinite knowledge.

Gayatri has been revered as Savitur (Sun God). The popular Gayatri Mantra is given in the third mandala of the Rig Veda, which is dedicated to God Savitur (Savitri). Gayatri Mantra is said to have been uttered by Maharishi Vishwamitra in an epiphany.

This sacred mantra is mentioned in the Upanishads as a ritual and in the Bhagavad Gita as a divine poem.

First recorded in the Rig Veda, it was written in Sanskrit around 2,500 to 3,500 years back. The Gayatri Mantra comprises twenty-four syllables organized inside a triplet of eight syllables.

The universal Gayatri Mantra addresses the supreme reality in the form of light. It does not talk of any one deity or god. Therefore, Gayatri Mantra is universal and highly scientific. It is common to all religions. It addresses the one single absolute energy or God, whatever we may call the supreme principle that creates, sustains and dissolves the universe.

It starts with the primordial sound of ‘Om’. It goes thus. The three worlds of Bhur, Bhuva and Suva (earth, sky and heaven) are nourished by the resplendent light of that Savitur (Sun god).

I meditate upon that eternal light so that it illuminates my intellect too.

THE FORM OF GAYATRI The form of Gayatri is resplendent light. Every deity has three forms, namely Mantra, Yantra and Tantra. Gayatri is not different from Sun God. Gayatri is one of the three feminine names of the Sun God, namely Gayatri, Savitri and Saraswati. Gayatri is actually the anthropomorphic form of Sun God. Seated in a lotus flower, Gayatri holds in her ten hands a boon giving pose, protective pose, noose, goad, whip, cup, skull, mace, conch (shankha) and discus (chakra). Gayatri Mata has five faces.

Source - Indus Scrolls

24

Chrysanthemum Chronicles/Anniversary Edition 2022

STORIES & POEMS ON LOVE

25

26

Chrysanthemum Chronicles/ Anniversary Edition 2022

LOVE IS A MANY SPLENDOURED THING

The peacocks cried raucously in the

She had only seen him once, tall and

distance, as streaks of rain pelted down,

well-built, riding on a stallion that he

evoking a smell of the earth. Geetanjali

controlled with such ease. One glance

leaned her warm forehead against the

from his hawk-like eyes that had roved

windowpane, hoping to catch a glimpse

over her face, and then he was gone.

of the birds dancing in full bloom.

She had strained her eyes to look at

However, they were nowhere in sight,

him, but he was a mere speck in the

and she sighed again, as she moved back

horizon.

into the large, dimly lit room. The haveli

The young man had also been smitten

was huge and sprawling and shadows

at first sight. The moon-like face of the

lurked in every corner, getting larger as

beautiful maiden who had peered out

the world outside became darker.

from the window had stayed in his

“Will he come today?” she asked herself,

mind. He wondered who she was, this

a flush suffusing her beautiful face.

lissome girl, who seemed to be part of the haveli.

Deepti Menon

"He kept staring at her as if he would imprint her features in his mind.

Then he moved forward to take her hand."

27

CHRYSANTHEMUM CHRONICLES/ANNIVERSARY EDITION 2022

“Ghanshyam, time we looked out for a bride for you,” his mother’s voice intruded into his reverie. For once he did not demur, or argue, as he had done so far, but merely nodded in acquiescence. His mother was taken aback. Had her stubborn son just agreed to get married? Her heart overflowed with happiness. This was the moment that she had waited for when she would attain a beautiful daughter-in-law.

Geetanjali was on her way to the temple when she heard the neighing of a horse behind her. She turned around, and there he was – the same hawk-like eyes riveted on her. All she could do was gaze at him, mesmerized by the depth of his gaze, unable to look away. Her cheeks flushed as he drew alongside her and dismounted with alacrity.

“I have been consumed with curiosity,” he said in a deep voice that thrilled her timorous heart.

“What is your name, oh divine maiden?”

“Gee… Geetanjali,” she quavered, looking down in confusion.

“A name that suits your beauty… where do you live, Geetanjali?”

“At the haveli,” she whispered. Her timidity overcame her and she blushed again.

He kept staring at her as if he would imprint her features in his mind. Then he moved forward to take her hand. She drew away with a start, and he smiled. She was deer-like, with her lustrous brown eyes and her graceful gait.

“I… I have to leave… it is getting dark,” she said in a low voice and turned to leave.

“When will I see you again?” he persisted.

“I don’t know who you are,” she muttered.

“My name is Ghanshyam, but you can call me Shyam,” he smiled. “I am the son of Manohar Lal, the headman.”

Her eyes flickered in alarm. The headman’s son? He was an important person.

Ducking her head, she just nodded, and started walking away.

“Will you come here tomorrow at the same time?” he called after her.

She scurried away, unwilling to answer such a direct question. As her slight form receded in the twilight, he got onto his mount, smiling to himself. This had been a pleasurable encounter. He knew what he had to do.

Manohar Lal was a corpulent man with a handlebar moustache, which he was proud of. It curved across his cheeks, arching towards his nostrils, a grand specimen, indeed. This specimen gave him the right to be dictatorial towards Saraswati, his longsuffering wife, his two sons who feared him even though they were strapping young men and anyone around who happened to have a weak heart or a timorous soul. His presence offered a grandeur to the ceremonies and the events that were of great significance in the village, and he was proud of it.

When Saraswati meekly mentioned that it was time to get his eldest son Ghanshyam married, he nodded even as he mentally checked the various households who had nubile daughters. He was a vain man, and he was determined to get a daughter-in-law from one of the wealthiest families in the vicinity.

“You can speak to your son and find out if there are any girls he is interested in,” he said abruptly to his wife who winced at the tone. “Your son too,” was trembling on her lips, but she was too nervous to bring the words out.

“Yes, mother, I do have someone in mind.

She is from the haveli, and her name is Geeta.”

His mother’s face brightened. The haveli was renowned and the family one of immense opulence. Her husband would be delighted with the nugget of information.

She sent up a silent prayer of gratitude. A daughter-in-law from the haveli would bring up their status considerably.

28

Chrysanthemum Chronicles/Anniversary Edition 2022

Ghanshyam waited at the same spot every day. On most days, Geetanjali would appear, looking more beautiful than ever. They would talk for a while, and slowly her reticence left her and she began to open up to the ardent young man. On the days that she did not come, he would go home in a temper and refuse to talk to anyone at home. A month went by, and one day, his mother approached him.

“Shyam, in two days, your father and I want you to come with us to the haveli to meet Geeta’s parents. Now that you both like each other, there is no point in delaying your wedding.”

Shyam was elated. No longer would he have to wait by the roadside for his lady love once they were married. He could spend his entire life with her, and he could not wait for that charmed life to begin.

The haveli was lit up with starry lights as Shyam and his parents walked in at about seven in the evening. Shyam looked handsome in a cream kurta pajama, and his parents and the few guests along with them were all dressed in their traditional best. A babble of voices quietened down as the mother of the bride walked out with a lit lamp in her hand to welcome the guests in. Curious eyes alit on them as they made their way to the opulent living room which sparkled with decorative lights and fragrant garlands.

As delicious snacks were brought in by uniformed bearers, desultory conversation continued.

Suddenly there was a hush as the girl was brought in, dressed in a gorgeous maroon sari, its sequins twinkling in the bright lights. She had a veil over her face and Shyam could not wait for her to lift it and look at him. As she glided in, the chatter ceased as everyone watched her move with lithe grace. She walked towards the empty seat next to her mother, bowed her head with folded hands, and sat down.

The two sets of parents restarted their conversation. Shyam was in a state of impatience.

When would the elders stop talking and get on with the formalities? When would that heavy veil be lifted so that he could look into those lustrous eyes that haunted his very sleep?

Finally, the moment came when the couple had to stand up and exchange rings. “Geeta, come and stand here next to Ghanshyam.” The father beckoned to his daughter and she came forward.

As the couple stood facing each other, the priest intoned an auspicious prayer.

“Lift up your veil, Geeta,” he finally said.

As the lamps flickered brightly, the veil went up, revealing a face that shone as bright as the full moon. Gasps of admiration echoed as the brideto-be smiled demurely, revealing her pearl-like teeth.

There was an agonized gasp from Shyam as he stared at the beautiful girl, pure agony in his gaze.

He could not believe his eyes. Where was his Geeta? He did not recognize this beautiful damsel.

Shaking his head, he moved back suddenly, as his eyes looked around for his lady love. There had been a terrible mistake; this was not her.

“Ma," he whispered desperately, “This is not Geeta!”

His mother frowned at him, shushing him.

“Don’t be silly, boy. This is Geeta, the daughter of the haveli.”

“Is anything the matter?” the father of the bride asked.

Before his mother could say anything, Shyam cut in, “This is not Geeta!”

The bride’s father’s face looked like a thundercloud.

“What on earth do you mean? How dare you say such a thing? This is my daughter, Geeta and the girl whose hand your parents had asked for.”

Shyam looked about in bewilderment, still shaking his head. “What about your other daughter?”

“We have only one daughter.”

The reply was like a thunderbolt. Who was the girl he had lost his heart to? His Geeta?

“I am sorry, really sorry. But this is not the girl I want to marry!” Shyam’s statement again caused gasps to reverberate around the room like a gust of wind.

“How dare you, young man?” roared the father of the bride. “You have just insulted my daughter and my entire family.”

Chrysanthemum Chronicles/Anniversary Edition 2022

Then, from the corner of his eye, Shyam sensed a timid movement and he swiveled his head around.

There, in a remote corner, looking petrified, stood the girl of his dreams, as she tried to hide herself from him.

“There she is… there’s my Geeta,” the young man retorted loudly, as he lifted a finger to point towards the girl. As heads turned, she tried to cover her face with her dupatta, making her way across the room to the nearest exit. Shyam followed her with long strides, but by the time he had reached the spot, she had disappeared. When he looked back, he could see many irate faces glaring at him and he knew that something was very wrong.

Back home, the whole family sat around, as Shyam tried to explain his stand.

“How could I have accepted that girl? She is not the one I had in mind when I agreed to this proposal.”

Before he could say anything more, his father exploded.

“Never have I been so embarrassed in all my life! Do you even realize what a blunder you made, you thoughtless boy? The whole village is laughing at us, and as for that poor girl…!” He was too incensed to carry on.

His wife tried to calm him down, but he pointed a finger at her. “You are responsible for his actions.

Pampered brat that he is!”

The whole story had come out in bits and pieces. The family at the haveli had a daughter named Geetashri, and a foster daughter named Geetanjali, who was born of an illicit union, and hence, did not have the status her stepsister enjoyed. The former was known as Geeta and the latter Anjali. The mistake that Shyam had made was in assuming that his Geetanjali went by the nickname Geeta.

All hell had broken loose in Shyam’s home. His father refused to talk to him, and his mother wept all night.

He had broken both their hearts and they were dead against accepting Geetanjali, or Anjali, as his bride.

When Shyam protested, his father lost his temper.

“I will not allow you to defile my family name by bringing that upstart of a girl here. I would rather that you remained single all your life.” And that was the end of the matter. From that day onwards, Shyam struggled to catch even a glimpse of his lady love. It was as if she had disappeared off the face of the earth.

The Aftermath: The story could have very well ended there.

However, how could the all-consuming fire that raged within the hearts of Shyam and Anjali be put out? The fact was that both slipped into the cracks of life and were never seen or heard of again.

Two years after Geeta was married, on a dark, moonless night, Shyam stood waiting for his Anjali at the railway station. As he stood on the platform his mind went over the past two years when his family had thrust numerous photographs of eligible girls before him, even as they got more and more irate with him for not even looking at them.

“I love Anjali. If I marry, I will only marry her. So, please do not waste your breath, and your photographs on me!”

His loyalty to his family, especially towards his mother was so strong that not once did the thought of eloping with his lady love come to him. Anjali too had hidden herself away within her family, not wanting to hurt them anymore. Geeta had forgiven her and Anjali had reconciled to the fact that she would remain a spinster all her life. The future seemed bleak, indeed, but her love for Shyam would keep her going till the end of her life.

Shyam’s reverie was broken when he heard the whistle of the train at a distance. The next moment, he felt a light tap on his shoulder. There she stood, as beautiful as ever, though a few grey strands had appeared on her temples. It was a joyous reunion as they drank in the sight of one another. Two years of separation had not dimmed the intensity of their love at all.

As the train trundled in, the passengers around began jostling them, and Shyam clasped Anjali’s soft hand tightly. He would never let go of it again. They stood there, a tiny island in the milling crowd around them, and with one glance, they looked at the slight figure who had stood by them over the past two years. As Anjali moved forward to hug her, Shyam folded his hands together in a gesture of intense gratitude.

29

Chrysanthemum Chronicles/Anniversary Edition 2022

Geeta’s smile broke out like a ray of sunshine on the dim platform. She hugged Anjali, tears flowing down her cheeks. She, above all, had known the intense anguish that her stepsister had gone through and it was she who had persuaded the lovers to move on and live their own lives.

“Go and be happy! Live a fruitful life!” Her voice was soft, but it rang through the babble around them. As the train came to a halt, Anjali looked at this beloved sister of hers, and her eyes shone with unshed tears of gratitude.

“We will be happy, dearest Geeta,” she said in a low tone. “This life is a gift from you, and we will treasure it forever.”

As they stood at the door, the train began to crawl, and they waved to Geeta, who waved back. This was how she would always remember them, framed in a doorway of a train, tears of joy sparkling in their eyes as they stood on the threshold of future happiness.

Deepti Menon has always loved the written word. She has published four books, starting with Arms and the Woman (Rupa Publishers). Deeparadhana of Poems came next, followed by The Shadow Trilogy - Shadow in the Mirror, Where Shadows Follow and Shadows Never Lie, and Classic Tales from The Panchatantra (all by Readomania).

As a freelance journalist in Chennai, she wrote umpteen articles for various publications and was lucky enough to interview celebrities like Jeffrey Archer, Ruskin Bond and many others, including film stars, business tycoons and politicians.

Deepti has always enjoyed writing thriller short stories and has been published in around twenty anthologies along with other noteworthy writers. She is presently working on a book of Shakespearean short stories and has three manuscripts which, she hopes, will soon see the light of day. She firmly believes in the Paula Hawkins quote: “Stay faithful to the stories in your head.”

30

31

Chrysanthemum Chronicles/ Anniversary Edition 2022

SOULMATES I have been working now for two

On reading the two sheets I figured

years in a company dealing in tours

out what they were planning. I had

and travels. My mind today was

seen some similar biodatas of cousins

absorbed in arranging a conference

and had a basic idea of what this

taking place next month in Delhi.

entailed. This didn’t appeal to me on

This was a corporate account and I

any level and in fact made me quite

was looking forward to making the

apprehensive. My father immediately

arrangements with a sightseeing

informed me that nothing would be

package included at a wonderful

decided without my acceptance of the

rate. I was working from home,

boy and the family. This was

something I seldom did but I

reassuring but I was sceptical

wanted to complete the package to

especially since I knew he was

be presented to the clients

planning to contact prospective

tomorrow morning.

grooms through newspaper

My mind was completely absorbed

advertisements, Kayastha Parivaar and

in the above task and therefore I

one of those wedding dot coms.

didn’t immediately understand

I grew up reading fairy tales, fables,

when my parents wanted me to

Enid Blyton and had slowly graduated

make my biodata. I took out my CV

into classic literature like Pride &

from a file and handed over the

Prejudice, Wuthering Heights, Little

printout to my father. He read it

Women, Great Expectations, Love

fondly and smiled saying, “I need

Story and A Suitable Boy. They had

one made along these lines.” And he

always made me believe that my

took out two sheets of paper, asking

Prince Charming would have certain

me to, “type and print it out.”

Pooja Sinha

"I had always wanted my Prince Charming to be my soulmate."

CHRYSANTHEMUM CHRONICLES/ANNIVERSARY EDITION 2022

qualities and prerequisites that would make it possible for him to sweep me off my feet. A famous quote from Wuthering Heights, had somehow remained entwined in my memory: He’s more myself than I am. whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.

-Emily Bronte Wuthering Heights.

I had always wanted my Prince Charming to be my soulmate.

I made the biodata as per my parents' specifications and after that got busy with work. Nothing happened for a month and I too relaxed and life went on.

About one and a half months later

my father told me a family with their son would be coming home.

He wanted me to wear a traditional dress and look presentable. Butterflies were dancing in my stomach and I was really nervous. I kept telling my mother, “How do you expect me to meet someone in an hour with their family present and decide that he is the man I wish to marry?” On hearing this my mother reminded me of how she had said ‘yes’ to my father in the first meeting itself with even more people around. She told me to “just be myself and relax.”

I had met so many clients and acquaintances in business meetings and in relaxed settings but never had I been so nervous as I was today. I had tried rehearsing several lines to ask or as a reply but my mind went completely blank

32

when the family arrived.

I served snacks and tea as desired by my parents and everyone was chatting. I answered whatever questions were put to me and was observing the boy and his family. The boy in question seemed very nervous. I didn’t like the way he parroted whatever his mother was saying. When she told him to stand, he stood up. When she said now eat this snack he ate, when she told him you have eaten too much, he immediately stopped eating and put the plate back on the table. He seemed to have no backbone at all. The father barely said a few words and the mother was doing all the talking. The boy answered some questions put by my father but seemed to be constantly looking at his mother for guidance.

After they left, we all unanimously said ‘no’. I was also beginning to get an idea of the qualities I didn’t want in my husband. A puppet with little or no voice did not appeal to me at all. I was relieved to know that my parents agreed with my views.

The next day the boy’s mother called up saying that they liked me but my father graciously declined the offer citing mismatched horoscopes as an excuse.

About a week later one of my aunts called, informing my parents about a boy residing in Dehradun. The father was an IAS and so was the son. My father called up the boy’s father and they chatted amicably. After 2-3 more conversations over the course of a week, they invited us all to Dehradun.

My father and I checked our respective schedules and decided to visit the following weekend. The family had invited us to their place and we were warmly greeted and delicious food and beverages were brought for us. I enjoyed talking to Ashish’s parents, they were warm hearted and very down to earth.

They asked me and my sister to accompany their son Ashish to his room and chat comfortably. We all chatted together and kebabs and other dishes were brought for us in the room. After an hour of chatting, we took our parents' permission and went for a drive. Ashish described various parts of the city and we all chatted nicely. During the conversation he mentioned that initially he would be residing in smaller cities and I may not be able to work always.

Chrysanthemum Chronicles/ Anniversary Edition 2022

This wasn’t very appealing as I had always stayed in Delhi and wanted to work and didn’t want to stay very far from my parents. He even casually mentioned that his parents wanted him to go for an arranged marriage but he was interested in someone not approved by his parents. Both my sister and I got the message loud and clear and that night told our parents whatever Ashish had said. We had all liked the parents immensely but I said I wanted to work and didn’t want to stay too far away from them.

The rest of the trip we did sightseeing and enjoyed Dehradun. After a day we returned to Delhi.

On our return my father informed Ashish’s father about his son being interested in someone else and that it would be better to get him married where he wanted. Uncle and Aunty said that they were not keen that he marry that girl and they wanted me as a daughter- in-law and had loved interacting with our family. I was happy to learn that but our minds were already made up. We graciously declined the offer.

After this trip I was busy at work and life went on at a leisurely pace. Then about three weeks later one of my aunts called, mentioning an advertisement in the newspaper looking for a bride. My father liked the particulars and called, talking to the boy’s father and after 2-3 conversations over the course of 3-4 days, the boy's side informed us that they would be coming to Delhi for a short trip. They wanted to come and meet us at our place.

It was a Sunday and I was wearing one of my favourite Kantha embroidered kurtis in black colour. At the appointed time, Mr. and Mrs. Shrivastava came to meet us. Though I was a little nervous, I now welcomed the idea of having met other people as I had an idea in my head of how prospective parents-in-law should be. I now even had a better idea of what kind of a boy I wanted to marry. I felt I was richer by the experiences I had had in this respect.

Nikhil’s parents were warm and seemed gentle and loving. They had asked me about my educational qualifications and hobbies. My parents also chatted with them very nicely. I served them tea and snacks (just like one does in the movies, though I had always joked that I

wouldn’t carry a tea tray to prospective parents. But changing times and situations make one change one’s behaviour too).

After Uncle and Aunty left my parents asked me how "I felt about this proposal." I had enjoyed conversing with them and was aware that even my mother had enjoyed chatting with Aunty. My mother even told us that she felt that, “in this family I feel like you will be treated more like a daughter than a daughter-in-law”. My father had a similar opinion. We decided to see how circumstances unfolded before giving our opinion to the family. As it turned out the circumstances worked in our favour. Nikhil’s parents wanted us to come and visit them and meet Nikhil in Calcutta.

All four of us travelled together and the first time I met Nikhil, I felt an instant connection. I did have butterflies in my stomach but felt that he did too. After meeting his parents and other family members at our hotel, both of us were sent for a drive and also to see the city together. When we were alone in the car, I missed my sister as we were both very quiet initially.

Then Nikhil asked me something I found quite surprising for a first meeting. He asked me, “you will have to remain in a ghunghat (the pallav draped over my head) for six months. Will that be possible for you?”

I thought for a couple of minutes and then said, “yes, I wouldn’t mind doing it for six months.” He then told me, “western clothes wouldn’t be possible once we were married in Calcutta but when we travel outside the city you could wear whatever you want to.” He asked me if "this was acceptable?” I replied that this was fine too.

My parents had already told me these things much earlier and though I would miss wearing my western outfits, I was ready to adorn Indian wear. After asking one more question, he then asked me to ask him anything I wished.

33

Chrysanthemum Chronicles/Anniversary Edition 2022

I couldn’t think of a single thing to ask him right then, which was quite surprising.

By then we had reached one of the famous cafés and he very chivalrously opened the car door and the café door for me. He even pulled out a chair for me to sit on. We then chatted more freely and had fun.

He said he wanted a homemaker. He asked me, would I "be ready to leave my job?” I said, “yes I would be ready to leave as I had already been working for 2.5 years and that I was ready to be a homemaker.”

Later on, in the night at the hotel I was wondering what made me agree on giving up work! Something I had not been ready to do with anyone else. I also realised that I had always wanted my husband to be someone like my father: intelligent, considerate, loving and attentive. Nikhil had all these qualities and I had loved interacting with his parents and siblings. Calcutta was neither too far nor was it very close. I remembered how nicely Nikhil had even pointed out the hospital where I had been born. It had warmed me a lot that Nikhil had made an effort to put me at ease and that he had made an effort in saying ‘yes’ in his own unique way.

The next day both sides had agreed and the wedding was fixed on a date three months later. But what I really loved and still recall fondly was the beautiful bouquet of red roses, an amazing watch and a very loving card with eloquent words that had been hand delivered by one of Nikhil’s friends on the occasion of Valentine Day. This beautiful package had arrived at my office and all my friends that day got to know about Nikhil. That was also the day I announced my wedding and everyone had congratulated me very warmly.

At the end of the day, I think it was on Valentine’s Day that I realised that my Prince Charming just swept me off my feet. He came into my life unexpectedly; stole my heart and I had found my soulmate for life.

Pooja Sinha is a content creator, poet, writer and blogger. She lives in Jamshedpur, India. Her formative years were in both Hong Kong & New Delhi. Her poetry & articles have been published in INKochi eMagazine and in an anthology by Asian Literary Society. She has been an active writer for several years. Her writing oscillates between poetry and prose.

34

35

Chrysanthemum Chronicles/Anniversary Edition 2022

THE RAINY DAY It had been raining heavily since the

Shyam, her only son, had been

past one week. Uma Kakima had been

transferred to Mumbai and she

feeling absolutely lost. She was

had been suffering from

supposed to visit her younger sister

loneliness. She constantly entered

Mrinalini, who stayed in Darjeeling, on

his bedroom and kept opening his

Friday but she had to cancel her plan

cupboard to feel the smell of his

following the incessant rain. She was

presence, but he was gone. The

absolutely disappointed. As it is, she

petrichor was reminding her of

was a widow who had accepted to live

the days they had been together.

all by herself. The rains had managed to

All the activities that they both

make her life even more miserable. She

did together when it rained. They

kept looking outside the window and

made paper boats, and watched

kept on looking at the children playing

them sail in the puddles in their

with paper boats. She remembered

backyard, then they made

many incidents surrounding the rainy

beautiful paintings and wrote

days of her life.

stories together.

Aditi LAHIRY

"Ma, I am coming home."

Uma Kakima's small face suddenly glowed like a sunflower.

"Rima, Shyam is going to arrive soon. I must make his favourite payesh (kheer).

CHRYSANTHEMUM CHRONICLES/ANNIVERSARY EDITION 2022

All through his growing years, this had been their routine during the rainy days. Sometimes, they would enact some plays and wear costumes for the same. At times, he would act like a prince who was trying to save his mother from the wicked demons. Yet on those occasions he would question his mother and ask " Ma, why is it that I have to protect you from the demons? Is it not time that you should stand up and fight against the demons yourself? " Uma Kakima was left speechless for a while when she heard Shyam speak in this manner and realised that it was time she should learn to handle herself independently. Soon she began to visit the bank herself.

Later she learnt to handle the finances of their house independently.

I started staying at her house as a paying guest two years ago. I was posted as a lecturer in the Jogomaya College and thus my parents thought that instead of staying in a hostel, staying as a PG would be a better option. My parents stayed in Kalyani and for me, travelling every day for more than five hours was turning out to be hectic.

Infact, it was a rainy day too, when Baba saw the advertisement for PG accommodation with a middle aged widow, he thought it would be the safest accommodation for me. Uma Kakima was the happiest person to let me in. She felt absolutely delighted that at last she was going to stay with someone and she could share the amazing memories of her rainy days.

36

Uma Kakima made me feel as comfortable as she could by opening the gate of her humble home. While speaking to her I got to know how she had fled with her parents as a child during the 1947 partition from Pabna in East Pakistan or Bangladesh. As she recollected those horrifying days her face turned pale. She had seen many people seeking shelter in the refugee camps. They had got drenched many a day as they did not have an umbrella.

Her father had been a doctor and helped save the lives of many refugees and they settled in the Ballygunge area. They could hear the foxes howling in the middle of the night. The area was absolutely deserted. People were afraid to venture out after the sunsets in their locality.

Post marriage she shifted to this three bedroomed house in Tollygunge and her life went through many ups and downs. Yet she remained a homemaker and was mostly dependent on Mrinal Kaku, her husband who had been a Chartered Accountant. He expired about three years ago due to an accident, but before that he too saw a lot of change had come over Kakima.

Earlier, she could never step outside the house without Kaku or Shyam's help but she soon adapted herself to stepping out on her own and could travel to different places all by herself.

"Kakima, please close the window. The water is entering inside the room," I told her as she was watching the incessant rain that evening. She was lost in thought. She took out a multicoloured umbrella and said, "Shyam loved to build a tent under this umbrella and we used to pretend that we were trekking on the hills. After this rain stops I will also ask him to join for a trek near the Valley of Flowers in Uttarakhand. He will be able to use his umbrella once again and we will enjoy the journey. We will create wonderful memories forever.

Uma Kakima often used to share evening tea with me. That day too, when I returned from college, I saw her preparing tea and looking into the album to look for pictures of Shyam and the memories of his growing up years. As she looked closely at the picture of Shyam carrying a multicoloured umbrella, she recalled an awesome incident. It was during their trip to Kovalam beach. "I was waiting to ride the narrow boat when all of a sudden

Chrysanthemum Chronicles/Anniversary Edition 2022

Shyam began crying. He had seen a young boy almost of his age selling these multicoloured umbrellas. He kept saying that it would begin to rain. He insisted that I carry it with me or else I would get drenched."

He fixed the umbrella on the boat saying, "Ma, see it will save you from the rain." But no sooner did I buy it and fix it on the boat, a strong wind blew over my face and the umbrella broke into pieces. Yet I bought it again for him and he kept it in a safe place. See it is still there," she said, pointing to the umbrella kept on the shelf. "Do you know Rima, once when the rain water had flooded our street, he watched some children struggling to enter through the school gate through the flooded water from the large window of his room.

He immediately rushed out of the house holding the umbrella. He helped them jump and get inside their school building. I felt that he was perhaps behaving like my father, who had treated many of the refugees who had crossed the border. They suffered from different ailments. But Baba continued to treat them with a smile on his face." Kakima narrated the incidents surrounding the rainy days. I was listening to her with rapt attention.

The phone rang and she hurriedly received it.

Shyam was on the other end. "Ma, I am coming home." Uma Kakima's small face suddenly glowed like a sunflower. "Rima, Shyam is going to arrive soon. I must make his favourite payesh (kheer).

As I left for college the next morning, I was seeing how Uma Kakima was busy making preparations for her only son's arrival. I had read somewhere that mothers can go to a great amount of change for the sake of their children. Today, while watching Uma Kakima, I realised that there was a great amount of truth in these words. I just looked at her and said, “what else are you preparing for Shyamda? Do keep some for me too." As I said this and stepped out, it began to pour heavily. I was about to get absolutely drenched when Uma Kakima called out to me and stretched her hand from the old blue window of her house.

Take this, it will help you during this terrible rain, and she gave me the multicoloured umbrella. Before I could say something, Kakima continued again, "keep this safe. It is an old one, yet has loads of memories attached to it." I thanked Kakima and assured her that I would return her treasured possession by evening in a good condition.

Alas! What we plan does not always happen.

While I was about to board the bus, a forceful wind blew outside. Before I could close the umbrella, it slipped from my hand. I saw it flying in the air. The bus had started moving by then. As I returned in the evening, I felt sad for Kakima and wondered how she would react onlearning about the missing umbrella.

Kakima looked at me and was about to say something when we heard the sound of the gate being opened. "Ma, please open the door.Kakima peeped outside the window. It was Shyamda who stood outside, holding a multicoloured umbrella. Uma Kakima smiled radiantly. Deep within my soul, I too smiled and felt relieved.

Then Uma Kakima asked me to return the umbrella. I was about to describe my misfortune, feeling nervous as to how she would react. Shyam da spoke up. "I found this umbrella on the road." I recognised it to be mine because it had the price tag still attached to it. Did you give it to her, Ma? How could you?"

Uma Kakima said, "I shared it with Enakhi for her love of rain. I wanted some sparks of love to enter her life. This could be done only with the help of your umbrella. I hope you don't mind showing her the rainbow after a rainy day!"

Shyam entered my life from then onwards. I left the windows of my heart open for him. He has been holding onto the multicoloured umbrella ever since that day. My love for rain indeed brought me close to the love of my life forever.

We tied the knot the following year. The Umbrella has been with us, a witness of two wonderful stories of love.

Aditi is an English and French Language trainer. She is passionate about writing short stories, poems, and articles. She equally enjoys story telling too. Her works have been published in various anthologies including Chrysanthemum Chronicles Volume 1, Issue 2, and Airavata 1, published by Pachyderm tales in association with Mayakaatha.

She lives in Hyderabad with her family.

37

Chrysanthemum Chronicles/Anniversary Edition 2022

Can I ever be your

MEERA?

38

INDRANI CHATTERJEE

Your anachronistic love for Krishna was an anticipatory radical democracy, You conferred courage to the ardent devotees to shed their shadowy realms And enrobe the version of defiant love to take the side of a spiritual marital bliss.

Your conspicuous message of freedom, love and devotion Is an ardent historicity for pursuers to propel along their hearts' lines, despite all persecutions ascribed.

Can I ever be like you Meera, and claim undauntedly to be the yogini of yogi Krishna?

You are phenomenally impassioned by your deep longing and ecstasy of union with your beloved Lord.

How unflinchingly you did shed your rhetoric of queen to adopt the pious adornments of a stoic soul.

It is hard to be flagrant like you, in devotion and love, devoutly weaving orphean notes, Raising melodious storm by the rhythm of your anklets and monochord in hand.

Unflinchingly you answered the clarion call of your heart for your eternal companion, Whom you claimed to be your spiritual husband.

Emancipating yourself from the bridles of communal "The garland I shall string with my breath will only chant the name of my beloved."

You proclaimed that your life barring Krishna will be like a fish hurled on an arid shore And if he derelicts you at any detour of your life you shall renounce it that instant.

Can I ever be like you Meera, be an ultimate image of intrepidity To emerge in conviction for the urgency of my soul, rigidity, you sang in rapturous boldness, With a language of love soaked in tender and dulcet words that flawlessly depicts my range of emotions Between mortal souls or between human and divine.

My venerable Meera, I love and worship you,

" For you stood unruffled in the face of accusations of immoral characters And did not stoop to declare that Krishna is your immortal love and soulmate.

I pray to have a pinch of your spunk

Chrysanthemum Chronicles/Anniversary Edition 2022

Indrani Chatterjee is a perfective homemaker and mother to an autistic child. Even from the barred layer of felicity, her emotions occasionally well up to inundate the white in blue.

Nothing is ceremonial in her revelation and approach, purely self motivated. She only wishes her readers to glide along with the rhythmic undulations of her penmanship.

She is also an ardent music lover specializing in Rabindra Sangeet (songs composed by Gurudev Rabindranath Tagore), currently pursuing Senior Diploma in the same. She also pursues Karaoke singing and performs on social media platforms. Her son also shares the same love for music. It shapes the bonding between them.

39

Chrysanthemum Chronicles/Anniversary Edition 2022

Remembering

40

YOU DEEKSHA RAINA

I'm not missing you, no I am not.

I just want to remember, the countless hours we spent listening to your shayari and my poetry.

I want to muse over how we would end up talking and I would never seem to get tired, maybe it was your company or that sarcastic smile.

I want to take a trip down the memory lane, how you carried that aura of the wise one, when I saw you first or in the letters that we write.

I want to relish how you savoured the last bite of your paneer masala and left that thinnest layer of sambhar.

I want to be tempted by the icecreams that you licked and my mushroom loaves.

I want to hear the sound of your laughter and mine echoing within.

I want to recall the memories of us getting clicked together, I want to giggle over your thin waist and my ticklish knees.

I want to enjoy our moments during the sunsets as I sip on the orange juice forcing you to eat the fibre.

I want to sway and surprise myself with the spikes of attraction and heated currents flowing in between, I want to be wooed

by the effect it left, each hug that brought us closer.

I want to feel that feeling again of being relaxed, of comfort of being happy, of you.

I want to breathe your breath on my face, I want to freeze your touch on my skin, I want the impression of your intellect in my mind of your love on my soul.

For today is all I have, tomorrow might not come and lest I forget or choose to.

Mind you! I am not a quitter but neither am I an optimist for hope is something I have given up on, a long time ago and so I want to remember, remember it all.

Deeksha Raina is a software engineer and a passionate writer, Deeksha began writing at the age of 15 and since then has published a novel titled ‘It Was Love’ and numerous poems/short stories as part of anthologies of diverse genres. She has been in on various open mics and has been invited for book reading events. Recently, she compiled an anthology titled CHASING HOPE! under Rosewood Publication. It's available on Amazon and Flipkart.

Chrysanthemum Chronicles/Anniversary Edition 2022

Hopelessly in

41

LOVE LUBNA AHMED

My cheeks burning, turning crimson red like a flame At simply, the mere mention of your name My heart taking marathon runs at first sight Running away hiding behind doors masking my delight The tears flowing incessantly not by choice The very minute I hear your loving voice Overwhelmed with thoughts about you, my love Choking with emotions, laden with selfless love Many a times feelings of despair albeit mindless My heart swells with your love and kindness Also the constant fear of losing you, the fright I am forever thinking about you day and night Ardent desire to share all, impossible to remain silent The delightful dilemma whether to talk or to be quiet To come out to meet or to hide from you To be deliriously happy or remain achingly blue To forever smile for you or cry for you To live with you or to die without you This divine love, beyond control sent from heaven above You sure know that you're hopelessly in love

Lubna Ahmed is a freelance writer, editor and educator. She is a Certified Master NLP (Neurological Linguistic Programming) Practitioner. NLP Workshop Facilitator and Soft Skills trainer. Certified Advanced Life Coach. Conducts SuperKoolKids Art Therapy workshops. She reside in Delhi with her family. She has been brought up in an academic & bureaucratic environment. Her late father Late Dr. Mahfooz Ahmed, a world renowned economist and educationist. Her schooling was done in Delhi and International schools abroad where her father was posted on UNO assignments.

She has written several articles, blogs, poems and short stories in online Magazine, E-books, and for 25 National, 12 International published Anthologies of which five are by Impish Lass Publishing House. Lubna has managed to carve a niche’ for herself in the literary world by her ever so simple 'Love poems'. ‘Princess Lubna’ is her pen name, her writers’ identity. Her love poems are spiritual & has Mystical Aura.

She graduated with first class marks in Science, Zoology Honors from AMU Aligarh Muslim University. She holds diploma in Travel & Tourism and Export Management.

Lubna is an avid traveler. She has traveled to more than 35 countries in USA, Europe and Asia.

Chrysanthemum Chronicles/Anniversary Edition 2022

42

You and

I

LEENA AUCKEL

I still remember when I first saw you You strolling along across the street Street bustling but you caught my eye Eye glued on you for a great while While I nearly stumbled off the road Road leading to you with a heart flutter Flutter of butterflies making me dizzy Dizzy with knees going weak Weak instant, attraction took over Over time, feelings grew stronger Stronger ties created; love bloomed Bloomed then a beautiful bond Bond watered with respect and trust Trust that it will last forever Forever you and I. (A Chain Verse Poem)

Leena Auckel is a Medical Doctor. Her poems have been published in various International online magazines like - Spillwords, ActiveMuse and Inkdew Times. Her poems and short stories have received numerous accolades, winning certificates across various online Poetry platforms. She shares her motivational quotes and poetry via her Facebook page - Sun-kissed Ink. She was recently awarded Emerging Influential Woman in the field of Arts and Culture for the Women of The Year 2021 Awards.

Chrysanthemum Chronicles/Anniversary Edition 2022

43

A Winter

LOVE STORY PRASENJIT DAS

I woke up by the alarm in my clock, Its tick tick to six, A hot coffee is getting ready, With sugar and warm milk is getting mix, Sun is just on its way to shine, By opening window I gaze at garden behind, Trees are standing straight with no more leaf, Birds are chirping as they are not yet to leave, It’s a beautiful morning, Where cold wind blew, It’s my special day, As I am meeting you, Its few years we meet each other, You are always in a new way when we gather, You look gorgeous in red, I feel relaxed by that smile you make, Your blue eyes are deep as sea, Where a boat roams and the sailor is me, I remember that care you gave, For two weeks when I was sick, Your bright eyes is sunshine in my life, I will be proposing to you in the coming days to be my wife...

Prasenjit Das grew up in Kolkata, West Bengal. He is fond of literature. At the age of 32, he wrote many short stories and poems on various platforms that attracted the audience. He graduated with a B.Com (Hons.) degree from Calcutta University and is now employed by a private company. From childhood to adulthood he has faced many challenges and struggles in life but his enthusiasm in writing is the inspiration of his life.

According to him, writing is a way to express his inner voice.

Chrysanthemum Chronicles/Anniversary Editon 2022

Love

44

GARDEN ANANDAVALLI CHANDRAN It’s a pleasant cool morning, I peeped through my window; The sky laid a thick mist covering, I could see vague colourful blossoms, low.

I looked at the blooming blossoms Saw tiny tots moving fast along with a few children to get flowers from a young lady, our neighbour, first.

She gave flowers of various kinds and colours to each one of them; in line, they came one by one, they jumped around for a few seconds, gifted the flowers to the lady and silent they became.

I was wonderstruck to observe their expression of love by presenting pretty blossoms joyfully and the ensued silence.

Silence itself is an emotional expression of blessed love and the blissful love that the lady and kids wished to share.

The young lady, I may address her as “aunty” for the kids, called two small girls, who were in slightly torn clothes, inside her home, who came out after some time, in wonderful new frocks, with a candid smile and gratitude, as a gesture of love on their faces.

Aunty’s daughter must be the real possessor of those dresses, I felt, 'cos, a small lovely girl started giggling at her and my guess was right.

I became overwhelmed with joy, when those two girls came forward to tell stories happily, in front of aunty and the tiny tots’ hands to hold.

Meanwhile, I entered the kitchen, finished my cooking quickly, poured the food in plates and bowls and soups in small jugs.

I found aunty serving pudding in bowls with spoons and cake pieces; With jugs of kheer and soup, I ventured to run into her house practically.

When I reached her home, aunty’s mother came out and sat on a chair and started narrating stories and all of them eagerly listened to her.

I put a spoonful of kheer into her mouth and gave the bowl of kheer in her right hand and she enjoyed it slowly, tapping on her cheeks, fair.

Chrysanthemum Chronicles/Anniversary Edition 2022

All children came near me to get kheer and I gave a little to the tiny tots in their mouths; they moved around, all love, love and love, love, mine.

Two boys served the sweet thing in the bowls, in aunty’s and mine All sang gleefully - all love, love and love, love all sweet tiny tots.

After a pause, boys went to see the puppies in the Love garden and the girls slowly walked towards the white shiny shelter of the kitten.

All five boys carried each pup, put them on their laps to feed them, there; Girls fed the kittens, and put them to sleep to find love everywhere.

Anandavalli Chandran is a bilingual writer as she writes poems, stories and articles in Malayalam and English both . She uses “medhini” as her pen name while writing in English. She has three Malayalam books and two English poetry books to her credit that have been published.

45

Chrysanthemum Chronicles/Anniversary Edition 2022

The River of

46

MY HEART DR. PARAMITA MUKHERJEE MULLICK

Love came like the misty rains And flooded the river of my heart.

It engulfed me with happiness and joy.

Oh, the misty rains!

Love crept in with stealthy steps And flooded the river of my heart.

It helped me grow in leaps and bounds Oh, the stealthy steps!

Love arrived in its simple garb And flooded the river of my heart.

No pomp, no dazzle, no show.

Oh, the simple garb!

Love showed up in its mighty strength And flooded the river of my heart.

It helped me overcome all hurts and pain.

Oh, the mighty strength!

Dr.Paramita Mukherjee Mullick is a scientist, a national scholar transformed into an internationally acclaimed, awardwinning poet. She has eight books to her credit. Her poems have been widely published in national and international journals and anthologies. Some of her poems have been translated into 39 languages. Paramita is the President and has started the Mumbai Chapter of the Intercultural Poetry and Performance Library (IPPL). She is also the Cultural Convenor and Literary Coordinator (West India) of the International Society for Intercultural Studies and Research (ISISAR).

Paramita promotes fusion of poetry with other performing arts. She passionately promotes peace poetry, indigenous poetry, multilingual and global poetry. She also uses poetry as a medium to make children aware about climate change and conservation. Apart from numerous awards from Indian organisations she has been blessed with the Gold Rose Award for promotion of Literature and Culture from MS Productions, Buenos Aires, Argentina. Bhajan Samrat Anup Jalota for the first time in his legendary career has sung an English song based on Paramita’s poem along with her recitation in a video.

Chrysanthemum Chronicles/Anniversary Edition 2022

Dizzy, Tizzy

47

LOVE! MADHU GANGOPADHYAY

In the nest of my heart Where love resides Everyday a little multiplies I know because it swells And at times pains The ways of love Really strange!

Silly smiles, while reading a text Shying away at one's own image!

Talking to oneself, at times loud Abjectly lonely in a crowd!

It lends a certain aura and glow The spirit like a river flow!

A constant flutter inside Coquettishly flirting with the eyes!

Cynicism flies away, The dark sky adorns the sun rays!

A carnival of glee and mirth A lovely feeling takes birth!

A carefree ride on carousel, Roller coaster or the giant wheel!

Soaring, twirling, a jingling bell So profound is love's appeal! ©️#madmusings️

Madhu Gangopadhyay hails from India. She is presently residing in Bangalore. Her passion for writing began when she was in school. She loves to pen down her musings at random moments. She is fiercely passionate about poetry and short stories, and her penchant for mythology can be seen in her works. She conveniently explores all the genres of poetry writing and has written on a plethora of topics. She has a Master's degree in English Literature from Calcutta University and a Bachelor's degree in Education. She has been in the education industry for two decades now. She has also been a content developer and has designed academic course books for senior school students and colleges. She had also been associated with one of the leading Print media houses in India. A soft skills trainer, motivational speaker, and an avid social worker: she is also an exponent of Indian classical dance forms, her passion since childhood.

It is only this January that she launched herself into this virtual world of fascinating writers and poets. She has also written some short stories that have been published in Literoma.

Her poems have been published in THE SILK ROAD, Mediterranean Waves, published from Cairo, OPA, Open Door Magazine, Literary Parrot (Volume II), Paradise On Earth, Volume II (The Third Eye, Butterfly Press), Insignia, Academy of The Heart And Mind, and in various other online journals including Spillwords. Her works revolve around every human emotion, life as a whole, nature, and the universe. Right now she is into technical writing, apart from doing her MA in Psychology.

Chrysanthemum Chronicles/Anniversary Edition 2022

48

Parijat-The Night

JASMINE PREETI S. MANAKTALA

In love with this obscure flower since my childhood days The autumn months filled my lane with her fragrance divine allured by its beauty and intoxicated by its scent; I stood under that tree many a times…

In awe of its beauty, colour and many tell-tales; As they bloomed at dusk and fell off at dawn …

I vow to have one such tree in my own garden one day.

‘Parijat’- a tree from heaven as they say… ethereal flowers with a provoking fragrance divine.

The Gods themselves smitten by her beauty, fought amongst themselves to lay a claim.

‘Harsingar’ as it is often called, a blossom fit for the Gods.

This pin wheel flower with white corolla petals saffron stalk at the centre, ironically replicates the sun.

My grandmother once narrated to me a beautiful legend of a one sided love, A love between princess Parijat and the smug Sun, When Sun refused her love she couldn’t bear the rejection Killed herself to prove her love and thus as the legend goes from her ashes rose this “tree of sorrow.”

This dainty ‘Raat Ki Rani’ now blooms only at night and as the dawn approaches, her withered flower fall like teardrops kissing the ground.

Shedding as soon as the sun comes up, not letting the heartless Sun see her immense beauty as if loathing the sight of her lover who never loved her.

Parijat- the fragrant night jasmine I vow to have one such tree in my own garden one day.

Footnotes Nyctanthes arbor-tristis or harsingar is considered to be the flower that is fit for the Gods. The word ‘Parijat’ literally means descended from or celestial. While flowers like jasmine, rose, marigold are plucked in the daylight to offer them at the altar, the flowers of parijat are the only ones picked from the ground and deemed to be as sacred as any other - to an extent that they have attained the special status of being God’s favourite flowers. No wonder, the name ‘Harsingar’ translates into God’s ornament.

This divine tree also simplifies the supernatural phenomena that the plant can thrive without sunlight.

Mention of parijat plant and flower are also found in Bhagwat Gita and Harivamsa Purana.

Chrysanthemum Chronicles/Anniversary Edition 2022

The Parijat flower blooms at night and drops down from the branches at the first rays of light, and is thus also known as Night-flowering Jasmine and Coral Jasmine worldwide. These flowers blossom between August to December. Parijat grows in the outer Himalayas, and are found in tracts of Jammu & Kashmir, Nepal to East of Assam, Bengal, Tripura extended through the Central region up to Godavari in the South. Besides India, they are found in Thailand, Indonesia, Nepal and Pakistan.

The tree is sometimes called the “tree of sorrow” because the flowers lose their brightness during daytime. This flower is the official flower of the state of West Bengal, India. The whole tree, including the leaves, flowers and seeds have medicinal properties and provide effective relief in the treatment of several types of inflammation and fever including malaria, intermittent fever, common cough and cold.

(Information source : https://www.arenaflowers.co.in/blogs/news/parijat-tree-harsingar-flowernyctanthes)

Preeti S. Manaktala is a published author, poet, blogger and a contributing writer to various online sites. She has won many accolades and recognition for her poetry contribution to various online contests. An avid reader, she loves to review books. She calls herself a writer in progress and believes that writing has helped her discover her own self even better. A learner and a seeker at heart. She believes in staying positive and continues to take small steps towards something very wonderful and beautiful ahead. She is a firm believer in the saying - “My Life is My Own Making!”

Her published work – Indian Summer in Verses- Poetry Anthology.

Macabre Tales – Thriller Anthology.

Words Come from My Soul - Coffee Table Anthology Airavata - An anthology/elephant stories Anklets In My Hands - NaPoWriMo Poetry Anthology You can find her scribbling her thoughts, poetry, and book reviews on her WordPress site https://preetimanaktala.in

49

Chrysanthemum Chronicles/Anniversary Edition 2022

50

The Tuscan

SUN

NANDITA NE NEE CHATTERJEE Looking for love I found stray roads and dark alleys A will-o'-the-wisp born of fanciful dreams Sculpted from naivety and disappearing ink I sprayed the paths Squeezed paint in all shades of rouge Filled my palms with wildflowers Wore a tiara of white snowdrop blossoms in my hair But the shadows gathered Grim and menacing The weather portented danger Looking back The road was blocked out Thick the mist Chasing me relentlessly I stood my ground Shut my mind Braced the winds Time teased and taunted I waited And waited Finally I heard a nightingale sing My eyes flashed open inadvertently Unconsciously I stumbled towards her Through dense thickets And bramble bush I parted the prickly plants Bleeding now I touched soft grass Stumbling onto a field I touched a mossy stone A bright ladybird shied away Filling me with fresh tenderness I found love in its solitary sojourn

The field meandered Ponds fringed with darting red crabs A merry party midday Hyacinths bloomed peacefully None complained I wandered on The rain trees ahead beckoned in ruby and topaz blooms The lilac jacarandas Winking at me playfully I saw love dripping down in the faraway waterfall I found it spraying mist on my face The invisible wind Caressing gently Singing a song of love Soft, soulful I looked heavenwards A silver lustre Shone from behind a grey cloud.

Chrysanthemum Chronicles/ Anniversary Edition 2022

Lovers Over the Half Moon and Half Sun! MONALISA JOSHI Beneath the cerulean sky, they stood, one battle was won later that night, the mayhem however became a ghost of vindication, it followed them, fed on their most peaceful nights, myriad kingdoms they fled, myriad thrones faltered, but their love was strong, the woods hid them into its, arms and they found their home into the bower of an old tree.

A man could love a woman even in his skin, when lost was all his kin, in the end, it was only them, he would be walking along with hands in hand, to their newfound home, among the meadows, where gushes of cool streams would flow, she would be running up to errands, into their small shack, he would return to home with each dusk to fall into her arms, and on the supper table, she would ask that story again, “tell me, my love, how did you make them disappear that night?

When the entire army of corpses had come to fetch me. What would have you done if I walked away with them, that night for never to be found again?” With a pant, he would smile and tell her the same tale he told her each night.

“I would have made the earth crack, oceans dry and the farthest skies shrink, if you had walked away from me, but that night when you held my hand, I had the courage to fight the army of corpses, the dead kings, its saviours, and its mercenary, it was a bloody sight, my love, so the heavens opened the doors,

51

Chrysanthemum Chronicles/Anniversary Edition 2022

52

for our love was not be bathed in the blood of darkest phantoms, you and I had to leave the earth, for our youth was not to be wasted in battling mayhems, we never caused. So, my beloved sleep on now, for another day waits for us in another, horizon, sleep on clinging to me, I shall be your hero again this night and for many nights to come.”

His woman with a smile kissed on his forehead, jumped over to another side of the crack to reach her bed, the floor was torn asunder into two, her side was tilted towards the moon, and his towards the sun. he burnt a little each day, while she slept in peace under the cool moonlit sky, even the gods were in wonder, of a love tale that had blood in the hands of a lover who tore the earth into two, they feared to enter his abode, for they made love when he was on her side of the floor, the earth shook in those hours and the gods used their supremacies to save the universe from falling apart, a dwelling resting over the half-moon and the half sun was still better than blood over his suit again.

Monalisa Joshi is a Publisher, Author, Poet and a Writer. She runs her Contemporary Independent Publishing House under the name Chrysanthemum Chronicles from New Delhi/ India and she has a literary platform on Facebook with many seasoned writers and poets in it who continuously write for the books, anthologies and Journals that she brings out more often. Many of the unique and brilliant titles are in the making and pipeline to be turned into physical books soon under her banner. She is also the Founder and Chief Editor of an online Forum with the same name that of her Publishing House, called Chrysanthemum Chronicles.

‘Demigods Are Alive’ which is her debut in fiction has been brought out under her own banner. Apart from this she has two poetry books to her credit from different Publishing Houses. Recently she has won the Criticspace Literary Award for being in the list of Top 100 Best Indian Authors. She herself confers many awards and prizes from her Publishing House to many writers and poets every year for various virtual writing and literary events that she commences through her website and Facebook Group Page. https://www.chrysanthemumchronicles.com/

Chrysanthemum Chronicles/Anniversary Edition 2022

Her Clandestine

SMILE

Winning Poems from the Virtual Poetry Event ANNIVERSARY EDITION

53

Chrysanthemum Chronicles/Anniversary Edition 2022

The Smile of Retribution Kokila Gupta

Hidden behind those twinkling eyes, Under that penumbra of a smile, is a look part wistful; part knowing Fissured canvas, peeling paint, ravages of time, Are seen, restored, corrected, How to correct the mockery in her gaze?

Or that shadow of a jeer in those pressed lips Where looms the diaphanous umbrage of an impending smile?

She is created sfumato-like a wisp of incense smoke, Fragrant, without borders and definitions; visible but free Felt not caught, reserved in pose; infinite in reach Her look piercing the viewer heart Poetry in prosaic contradiction - she is Monalisa, the ultimate woman Unlike a papal painting of a fallen angel She’s the lark in the mindscape sky in gay abandonment, An enigma A single blossom on the bough smiling shy of autumn, dreaming of spring Which falls on earth pirouetting... as if falling in love With the knowledge of winter in heart And seed of tomorrow safely wrapped, Embracing death, blooming bright Unnoticed Years passed.

In the hint of her smile lies the curlicued script of a woman heart Timeless in her imperfections, Flawed in proportions,

Gleaming like the incomplete rough mass of moon, amid perfectly shaped stars Dawn breaks at her fingertips ricocheting like tiny inimitable photons of light Dancing around her exalted mien; slipping down from cheekbones Cascading in slanting strokes of pale pigment Unsuccessfully trying to reflect the rosy freshness Of her lambent skin burnt gold by sunshine The supercilious mien, the tracking gaze, that knowing smile...

Which stroke of brush created these?

She peeps into the viewer soul Turning them transparent, They fiddle, under that know all curve of mouth, She smirks at their discomfit, “Retribution tastes best when served cold” The graceful sphinx like posture Initiating a dialogue with the viewer Different with each, like the courtesan and a mother residing inside every woman Instinctively gauging the depths of a man's feelings, the fiber of his soul, An amalgamation of all that, different for each, A new aspect each time you lock eyes with her, You are stupefied, your secrets reverberate Thoughts, ideas all throb - translucent yet veiled in Monalisa’s gaze, To which you are tied, charmed forever Bound to return at her altar, like Earth encircling the Sun, Perpetually tangled in her mystery She scoffs, And, you feel bare...

In awe of her clandestine smile.

54

Chrysanthemum Chronicles/Anniversary Edition 20222

Born in a literary environment of AatmvatSarvBhuteshu, with poems as lullabies; philosophy as bedtime stories, Kokila Gupta was brought up amid mountains and valleys nurturing a deep love for nature and simplicity. She chose ImmunoParasitology as her field of study and later resigned from a Government job to pursue her other interests. Her prose, poetry, musings or Haiku, all express a natural affinity for life in mundane spontaneity. She is an artist by nature, a reader by birth, a lecturer by profession, a traveller by passion and a writer/poet by choice.

55

Chrysanthemum Chronicles/Anniversary Edition 2022

The Famed Lady of Mystery Deepti Menon

Who art thou, oh beautiful lady of mystery?

Seated at ease, hands clasped serenely What lies within you; narrate to us your history, And why you smile on us ever so benignly?

Benignly, did I say? Or is your smile clandestine?

When I look away, do your heavy eyelids flicker?

In the dim light, do they twinkle, do they shine?

Do I imagine that your breath comes a little quicker?

What marks you as the world’s Mona Lisa History proclaims that you are priceless, More renowned than the Leaning Tower of Pisa Maybe even the Kohinoor, I must confess!

A genius fashioned you in all his zest, Hours of perfect joy, with moments of strife; Over years he slaved, his strokes making you the best Once done, he carried you around for the rest of his life.

The scientist in him sketched your features in precision Eyes, cheeks, lips – a smile double-edged and elusive The creative artist in him craved for perfection One could almost visualise you inhale and live!

I watch your lips, a play in asymmetry, The left side raised, where happiness does reign

The right side droops, telling a different story Is the expression one of sorrow or disdain?

The world lines up to see your famous smile, The wonder grows, as does the curiosity, What does your smile say, so filled with guile?

Does it reveal thoughts or hide your identity?

Are you La Gioconda, the beauteous damsel, The beloved third wife of the Florentine silk seller?

Did Leonardo paint himself in you, pray, do tell!

Do you admit you are the Duchess of Milan, Isabella?

As you posed, did you have minstrels to perform To keep your mind away from the aches and the pain?

An array of jesters to keep you in good form?

To keep your beautiful face from showing the strain?

The genius who crafted you must never have thought The painting he created would be his greatest work of art, That the mystery lady would be so eagerly sought By hordes of admirers who would treasure her in their heart.

56

Chrysanthemum Chronicles/ Anniversary Edition 2022

Often it has been said eyes are the mirror of the soul, Do your eyes reveal serenity, do they show grief?

Where happiness resides, sadness also has a role, The rose blooms crimson, accompanied by thorn and leaf.

Luc Maspero, French artist, leapt four floors to his death, He yearned to solve your mystery, which beguiled him so, He failed to comprehend your mind, its inner depth, He preferred to die, rather than let it go.

There you sit, a picture of perfect serenity, An amalgam of scientific prowess and artistic endeavour, The most glorious example of one man’s virtuosity, Humanity will marvel at your charisma forever.

So, smile on, beautiful lady, let the magic remain, Let the crowds swell in number and chant your name, Only your creator would know the emotions you feign, Even as your smile flashes out from within the frame.

57

Chrysanthemum Chronicles/ Anniversary Edition 2022

Monalisa's Sweet Revenge Gowri Bhargav

I tried to decipher Mona Lisa’s enigmatic smile, Which still baffles people worldwide.

My simpleton brain whipped reasons quite silly, The hilarious reasons could make you laugh out loudly.

Here is the funny story that my mind did imagine, Thank me, for you are sure to get a good dose of dopamine.

Lisa had to sit on an armchair day after day, For the artist to draw a masterpiece, she had to obey.

Her vile husband expected the exercise to be punishing and tiresome, Presuming she would shed incessant tears due to the monotonous boredom.

He underestimated the great Da Vinci who was going to paint her, Little did he realize that her portrait would be admired forever.

Every morning, in front of a mirror a spot she chose, And painstakingly got dressed for the striking pose.

Her poor husband didn’t dare to speak a word against her, Fearing it would make her grim face look sadder.

Having escaped from all her mundane duties, She relished a delectable breakfast in absolute privacy.

"Honey! Please cook, clean and run all the errands, You see, I can't help you", she would sarcastically tell her husband.

And once she sat down she wouldn't budge, Her husband obliged, hiding his grudge.

A perfect smile, her pursed lips did adorn, While her husband ran in circles behind the newborn.

"Where is the milk? What's for lunch?" He screamed, Unmindful of everything, in absolute oblivion Lisa seemed.

"It would take several days to complete the painting," Da Vinci exclaimed, "Take your time Sir, there's no reason to rush," she proclaimed.

A group of singers sang songs of melody, And dancers enlivened her mood and gave company.

Food was served from time to time to make sure her cheeks stayed pink, Sliced cucumbers every hour ensured her eyes didn't sink.

She spent a good night's sleep in her private "Her" room, While her husband's sleepless nights with the wailing child did spell doom Doing nothing was indeed an art she had begun to enjoy, She was glad to have agreed to the serendipitous ploy.

58

Chrysanthemum Chronicles/ Anniversary Edition 2022

Lisa thanked the lord for the blessing in disguise, She rejoiced watching her husband who was paying the price.

The entrapped husband's wait didn't seem to end, Oh boy! With a fake smile he had to pretend!

People spoke about her mysterious smile that was so divine, And the beauty of her eyes that were oh! So sublime.

None spoke about the tired husband's plight, Who worked round the clock day and night.

And finally when the masterpiece was complete, Everyone praised the artist and his muse for the remarkable feat.

The husband had learned his lesson the hard way, 'Mr. Mona Lisa' - all the people addressed him, to his dismay.

A role reversal he had to play throughout his life, He remained a sidekick to his popular wife.

Gowri is a certified storyteller from Kathalaya academy and regularly conducts storytelling events for the benefit of school children. “Gowri Storyteller” is her YouTube channel dedicated to the art of storytelling.

She has also been a contributor to “Talking Stories Radio” - a programme dedicated to the art of storytelling by East London radio.

Gowri is an aspiring writer who enjoys weaving words into stories, articles and poems. She has won several online contests conducted by several literary platforms like Penmancy, Artoonsinn, Asian Literary Society and Chrysanthemum Chronicles. She is the co-author of ‘Spent’, ‘Wafting Earthy’ and ‘Out of my Box’ - anthologies compiled by Writefluence, ‘Drabbled dipped in love’ an anthology of drabbles compiled by Sharing Stories, 'Around the world- landscapes and cityscapes' , a poetry anthology by 200 poets around the world by Sweetycat press, Airavata by Mayaakatha, Anklets in my Hands - a poetry anthology by Let’s make stories and 'A Call from Beyond' - audio poetry anthology by Chrysanthemum Chronicles.

Her Website: https://gowribhargav.com/

59

Chrysanthemum Chronicles/ Anniversary Edition 2022

My Madonna of Hope Dr. Paromita Mukherjee Ojha

Why do you keep enticing me?

What is in you that draws me?

You are a perfect mirage Truths sink in that elusive visage You, Monalisa are just a whimsical image.

Every day I subsist on penury Everyday living has become drudgery All that my father built brick-by-brick Snatched by deceptive relatives And their evil tricks Their deceit, I could not foresee Their smiles, a garb for their falsity Tears, was all they had planned for me.

My inheritance tilts to the ground Nothing is left to hold, desert abound Everyday debts, the base surround Mirrors of hope are smashed By volleys of self-doubt I cower at the dingy corner Wondering at the smile that adorns her Her portrait on the mossy wall Is all that I am left with In, this rickety room, of doom.

The last whisper of my dying father Still rings in my dead conscience Lingering at the edges, causing a bother Days are swallowed by nights Every fretful dream adds to the fright Of dying alone, of dying miserably My father kept saying, you know child: ‘Monalisa’ is also known as ‘La Gioconda’ Gioconda in Italian means ‘happiness’ So never let her go under any duress Life then will be free from stress.

How wrong you have been father She and her enigmatic gaze Does nothing except follow me like a maze Seemingly mocking at my helplessness I am tired, father, of her constant gaze Today, I will set her smile ablaze

I hypnotically walk towards her Drawn like a moth by her hypnotic stare I pull at her frame, nothing moves I pull again and again Till I realize all my efforts are in vain Curiously, I preen closely I realize the portrait is pinned to the wall My curiosity aggravated Why should a replica be pinned minutely?

Instead of being hung as is the norm.

My energy gained momentum I rushed and brought forth my rusty tool box Patiently one by one I pulled the nails apart My breath kept coming in bits and spurts Still smiling enigmatically she fell in my arms Shocked I looked at the now empty wall Instead of brick and mortar There was a hidden wall chamber.

I touched the smooth iron with trepidation My hopes rose and fell in anticipation I tried the lock, not a creak, not a crack I tried turning it, saw the circular numbers All my hopes were floundering I held my head and scouring my mind I dug at my memories intertwined.

Sudden flash, blinding insight Father had long ago made me memorize That ‘Madonna’ also known as Monalisa Was painted by Leonardo da Vinci in 1503 and 1504 And Leonardo was born on 15th April 1452 Such a merry coincidence of 1504 and 15 April So when required combine them all These numbers in your memory drill

60

Chrysanthemum Chronicles/ Anniversary Edition 2022

His insistence had left me with no clue Tenaciously I held on to hope Before my courage eloped I tapped the numbers 15041452 Buzz, whirr, and click My world transformed in a blink New hopes, new upsurge of fortune Gold, cash, lay neatly stacked I simply stared rapt.

Monalisa, even in replica You are my enigmatic Angelica My harbinger of joy and peace Your reclusive smile Wiped out the worldly wiles You are my saviour from life’s trials.

With you, by my side I again found joy and peace.

Dr Paromita Mukherjee Ojha is a voracious reader, dreamer, blogger, painter, mostly on the move having worked with corporate houses in the past, transitioning to teaching in Management and Engineering colleges post doctorate. Her poems and short stories have been published in Readomania, Learning and Creativity, Story Mirror, Café Dissensus, RavenCage, CLIC journal etc. She has published fifteen Research papers. A participating author of two short story anthologies, When they Spoke and Defiant Dreams, conceived by Readomania.

61

Chrysanthemum Chronicles/ Anniversary Edition 2022

I am Da Vinci's Lisa Rohini Jayanti

gorgeous and enticing I am to those who see me a magnificent beauty, delightful to one’s eyes my smile is truly an art that can be envisioned only in dreams for in reality I’m not ‘The Mona Lisa’ an optical illusion of Da Vinci whose smile, everyone calls as The Elegant, Resplendent and Charming instead, I am a woman holding secrets, thoughts, memories, and longing quests behind There is little his eyes could see For I’m in a prison battling my own nightmares, behind that beauteous curved line tired and sharp-worded I seek no favour except his love Under an illuminating candlelight I smile to enliven my mind an elusive smile woven in secrecy A light in the eyes I leave no trace but beneath that light tearful emotions yet remain Does he see pain?

A tiny spark of hurt?

Yes! And so, the fragile smile is just a veil My smile is stunning, pleasing to the eye, and my lips behold radiant beauty that lights up the earthly sky

I know, that’s what he thinks of me but deep within an empty shell I am whose soul has long been dead a blank canvas I am waiting for him to colour my world I don't want to be here holding this smile of ambiguity framed on a wall of glass and gold, instead want him to see a beating heart, that swells with life and hope I want to break free, from the shackles of this golden prison like a bird from a cage take a single glimpse of his world that would give life to my soul coz I don’t want to be Mona Lisa, a dream that his brush brought on canvas instead, I just want to be Da Vinci’s Lisa

62

Chrysanthemum Chronicles/ Anniversary Edition 2022

Rohini Jayanti is a passionate storyteller and writer. Founder - Story Pond and Beyond Academix, platforms she motivates, encourages, transforms, and inspires children in various aspects of life and brings out the creative and innovative potential of young ones through stories and creative writing. Her short stories and poems have been published in various anthologies and international journals. She conducts several online creative writing and storytelling contests for kids and has also taken an initiative in compiling and publishing an Anthology of poems written by children.

63

Chrysanthemum Chronicles/ Anniversary Edition 2022

The Elusive Angel Nandita De nee Chatterjee

Midnight at the Musee du Louvre An uncanny quietness after the day's din After his rounds the Security Officer resumes his favourite spot

He lost himself in her amber gaze The russet and sienna shadows pulling him in Hypnotised by her angelic allure Melting into the mystique of her smile

He smiles at her tenderly Now it's just the two of them The most wanted lady in the world And him, her saviour

That half-smile, playing wantonly in her eyes The centre of gaze ensnaring the viewer, moving with him The smile in the peripheral vision Slowly disappearing in a magical illusion

For 20 years he's been watching her While millions queued for a 30 second glimpse The Renaissance Man, da Vinci himself Never was so fortunate On long, chilly nights When snow lashed the majestic palace museum He sat lost in the warmth of her gaze Transported to an alternate reality The lady with the divine aura Akin to Virgin Mary Madonna or Mona Lisa Gherardini Wife of nobleman Francesco del Giocondo of Florence Leonardo da Vinci's seraphic muse The polymath's magnum opus His unfinished masterpiece The ultimate mysterious beauty Mesmerized as was entire mankind for 500 years or more The lady who adorned palaces of Fontainebleau, Versailles and Napoleon’s bedroom in Tuileries Valued at above $867 million

Did da Vinci infuse her with his final testimony The scientist-artist-inventortheorist's hidden will Embedded into her portrait His ultimate philosophy of life And the man-woman mystery?

The truth of virtue, chastity, womanhood, motherhood The enigma of existence?

Did she embody the seduction of life The mystique of femininity?

Where bliss, melancholy and solace met Or did she hold the answers to destiny?

La Gioconda's eyes followed him in gentle amusement Her smile tantalizing him every night Withdrawn, withholding her emotions Reclusive yet magnetic Alive and inviting An iconic statement of femininity Portrayed by an Alpha Male.

64

Chrysanthemum Chronicles/ Anniversary Edition 2022

Nandita De is a writer/freelance journalist/ Senior Editor CC /housewife. Formerly with Economic Times. Cover stories and Feature Writer with Statesman, Illustrated Weekly, Economic Times, Telegraph, Times of India, Femina, Filmfare, Germany Today, Voix Meets Mode, UK, FrontierWeekly, Namaste Ink, Setu magazine, US, Innsaei International Journal, Plethora 3, Chrysanthemum Chronicles 1, 2, 1.1, Literatureslight Magazine, Global United Renaissance 2 to 8, Raven Cage Ezine, Germany, Taifas Literary, Italy, Our Poetry Archives, Cultural Reverence; Poetry Planet magazine 1&2; New York Parrot.

Co Author: Big Bang of Non-Fiction, Life in Reverse; 30 Best Poets; Poems from Best Poets; Sea; Coffee & Echos; Wrapped Up Feelings; Poetry Planet's Christmas in my Heart; Moonlight; ALS Kaleidoscope of Asia & Bilingual Anthology of Poems; Poetry Planet’s Writers Haven; Rewrite the Stars; Love Thy Mother; The Real Hero; Ashes; Arising from the Dust; Striving for Survival; Plethora’s An Indian Summer; Poetry Planet’s LockdownDiaries, Born to Dream; Spotlight Winners' Anthology; Words in Motion; Dancing with Death; Metaphors of Life; Macabre Tales

by Chrysanthemum Chronicles; Heart of a Poet; Poetry: Best of 2020 and I Want to Live by Innerchildpress USA; The Sounds of Spring; AsiaSings and Ancient Egyptians: Modern Poets by Silk Road Literature Series, Egypt; Golden Apples of God; OPA’s Midnight Moments; Litterateur RW May, Sept, Nov, Jan Anthologies and Reflectoem 13; The Literary Parrot 1&2 by New York Parrot; Compassion by Prodigy US; Call from Beyond AudioBook by CC; Body of Memories by Setu, US; Paradise on Earth 2, US. Coffee Table Books - 5: Gems II; Gems III; Never Cease to Amaze; Words Come from My Soul

by World Pictorial Arts Forum and Chocolaty Affairs and Scandals by Chrysanthemum Chronicles.

Editor : Macabre Tales; and Demigods Are Alive; Cc 1. ;Cc Anniversary Edition ;To Frida, With Love!

65

Chrysanthemum Chronicles/Anniversary Edition 2022

Carpe Diem Dr. Pragya Bajpai

All my senses hijacked by spring breeze and fantasy-filled eyes watch sprawling fields peppered with fireflies where longing makes love to belongingness and scarlet desires undress where you and I always met and our bodies sweat The fire runs wild and corner of the eyes revel the panache of supple romance, in the hypnotic fair-maids-of-France that slowly burns the core in the fading twilight zone The lips slyly smile as I hide the love making in the bucolic countryside that advances in the mind with blinding waves crashing to lift me yet again like a rising smoky flame I keep whispering your name The buoyant blonde hair, a secret paradise of mine that silently guards the virgin moans caught in the raptured ears behind and the eternal thirst secured well in rapt delight Read the enigma deep in my eyes listen to the antiquity of love that never dies and still bleeds for you A constant violin tune lingers to fill the vacuum and heal the chronic wounds; slow and steady And they call it a masterpiece!

They are all same

and gather only to discover pain nothing ever found beyond what they want and it doesn’t matter to me As your besotted lover I hide the passion gushing in my veins only for you to see waiting till eternity And when you gaze at me...

I will release it all and set it free Till then, the desperate tidal currents under the buttery skin and the finest moment of longing I seize for you in a scented brunette robe and feign to pose It's not Leonardo who painted me so…

It’s you!

But the poor innocent fellas don’t know!

Pragya Bajpai, Ph.D. is a poet, artist, mother of two creative adolescents, portrait photographer and a faculty of English at the iconic National Defence Academy, Ministry of Defence, Pune.

She is widely published and anthologised both nationally and internationally. Recently, she has published her book of poems titled A Potpourri of Proverbs (2021). A dream anthology that features talented and unsung poets in the Indian armed forces edited by her is under publication. She proudly hails from the city of Nawabs.

66

Chrysanthemum Chronicles/ Anniversary Edition 2022

Monalisa, By Your Leave Preeti Brahmin

Monalisa, by your leave, Till you invite me to The Louvre, I have to stop before A replica of your replica, As you gaze at me From my phone screen And send a shiver down my spine.

I underplay my discomfort At your mummified mystery After all, you are but art; And let the moment’s thirst settle.

It is not a natural thirst.

I doubt if it is any good Craving for second hand images Of masterpieces.

But your image made with Sixteen years of methodical madness, Does deserve enduring awe and emotion, And emotion is rarely second hand I can feel the arrest In the curve of your dewy smile; I’ve heard that you deny this smile To bold, indiscreet, prying eyes.

Will it elude me if ever I should visit Or will you offer favour?

Ah! That is speculation, probably immaterial.

After all this captured image Carried from other eyes to mine Does allow me To devour your likeness.

I look upon you, half-unwilling.

Momentarily doubting If I were equipped to comprehend Your creator’s worship.

Still, your small image on my palm Fills up my vision And thoughts upon it transcend.

Aren’t you your maker and he you?

Are you not his conclusion of that torrid coitus Sired when his science Made elaborate love to his art?

Was your smile a constant For every woman to emulate?

The male desire Of a permanently happy place?

There is peace, a wholesome maternal warmth In your swelling bosom and tidy, crossed hands.

Do you not miss, thus deified The freedom to lust, or frown or pine?

Or are you happy to stay hauntingly entrapped?

When on the wooden bark With a thousand strokes dissected Did he know your beating heart, While he calculated, thus to convince his art, The final perfect etch?

67

Chrysanthemum Chronicles/ Anniversary Edition 2022

Preeti Brahmin is a teacher by profession and a mother of two girls. She is passionate about her work in school and at home. She believes education is a great equaliser. She loves all things sustainable in relationships and ways of life. She tries to keep up with some modest reading and attempts to speak up through poetry or prose whenever passion permits. She doesn't believe in competition. Her motto is 'In lifting others you lift yourself '.

68

Chrysanthemum Chronicles/ Anniversary Edition 2022

Dark Mysteries Anindita Ray

Gravelled stone paths flows a warm chill Barring silence brushed the blue midnight Hypnotizing deeply the haunting comes alive Soul captured forever quietly present Parallel worlds open doorways Best be careful unwanted wishful thoughts Come true in seaweed toned green Birthed in grey existence, as her smile follows Decode the mystery of hundreds of years Life and death captured to live beyond Painted in a time capsule mesmerizing all Her smile of repressed pain in moss of grief Beginning of unending dilemma She arrived for many deep stories to tell Tolerance iron toned rusty clanky Porous melancholy eats at you Crafting a script ocean tides can only decipher Impactful dark mysteries her misty eyes Follows each pair who look deep into her eyes Disrespected, dishonoured women Left ill-treated forced to robotic living Faceless voiceless choiceless smileless Unsentimental perspectives forces Sacrifices with every breath they take Heart wrenching existence unbeautified as Societies buried in superstitious dogmas Over many centuries burnished tales

Cruelty lashed poisoned behaviour Even after life her eerie haunting smiles Paradise reserved beneath the feet For mothers wives daughters Advocacy of love compassion much wary A code of love gone wrong skewed Crushed dignity, makeup tempered Bruises heavily powdered tear stained Altered normal dream lives, joys suppressed Wings of fire for many dowsed Challenged openly to be gain back rightful rights Moon and sun eclipsed in pain too A speck of hurt chipped off each time To tug to touch to be part of Mona Lisa’s soul, she feels the pain Lost esteems; caged hostages held to ransom She absorbs it all, bears testimony to her kinds She cannot be silenced nor ignored She follows you to sleep, to your bed All She does is lock you in her smile Fathomless dark infinite intense silence No point telling tales of endless horrors Hands strike charred skin hell lives in despair No triumph in belated justice Beware; She cannot be stopped Night fall her sojourns begin Her soul will come to pick your soul Winds cannot be stopped nor flow of water Mona Lisa refuses to be silenced even in her smiling silence!

69

Chrysanthemum Chronicles/ Anniversary Edition 2022

Anindita Ray loves to pen poems, stories, quotes and articles that capture the myriad colours of life. She is full of life, high energy, and a very positive woman of substance. Anindita, a Human Resources professional, is back after a short hiatus to corporate life, who is completely enjoying balancing her time with her corporate life and her ten year old son. An absolute believer and practitioner of mindful living, she is a learning enthusiast, who believes in loving and living life to the fullest.

70

Chrysanthemum Chronicles/ Anniversary Edition 2022

The Smile that touched my Soul Jayashree Pillai

Colours of russet Glided down, Amidst the echoes Of laughter And music, That floated along The silent hallway.

The lights had faded, Save a mellow, Half alive glimmer That strove to Crush the darkness Gathered around The beautiful face, Immortalized By a Master.

I ran my fingers Over the barely parted lips, That seemed To smile – Just a little And not more – At things known, And still unknown, To untaught minds Like mine.

I stood, Frozen in time, As her smile slowly Wound itself Around my floating thoughts, Creating little ripples Of some unnamed emotion.

It whispered to me In subtle tones, Of a love That was true and pure – Of a love That my autumn years Were yet to learn

Or know Or feel.

I stood , Frozen in time, As a little glimmer of wisdom Breathed life Into my half dormant soul.

Beyond, The russet leaves had settled, To embrace the wintry night.

Jaya Pillai is a teacher by profession but considers herself to be more of a learner because she believes that life is an unending tale of mysteries to be unravelled. Writing is a passion for her - a response to a call from her soul. It gives her a sense of catharsis amidst the chaos that life dishes out.

Whenever time permits, she weaves words into poetry or a tale and during those few moments, she finds herself transported into a different world.

71

72 CHRYSANTHEMUM CHRONICLES

ANNIVERSARY EDITION 2022

BOOK REVIEWS

REVIEW OF 'RUNCIBLE SPOONS AND PEAGREEN BOATS' & 'DEMIGODS ARE ALIVE'

73

Chrysanthemum Chronicles/ Anniversary Edition 2022

Ah, how it pained, and to dad I complained.

“I feel bad, when they call you old, dad.

How can you be old?”

“Oh common child, don’t be riled.

Age is just a number, pedal away I am here.”

Review by Associate Editor Shristee Singh

Runcible Spoons and Peagreen Boats, My father’s Last Letter To Me, and other poems is a poetry book by Dr. Santosh Bakaya that takes one down the memory lane where the readers can find themselves reflecting into the bygone era of poets’ childhood. The book is autobiographical in nature but as the readers go through the poems, they can see a part of their childhood too through the poets' pen.

The title of the book is indeed very interesting. Runcible spoons and Peagreen Boats! I too was piqued to know what it meant. Dr. Santosh Bakaya very candidly brings forth her conversation with her father in the author’s note where we learn that it is a nonsense word invented by Edward Lear.

However, the author has dexterously used the word in her poetry and given it the muchneeded approval by making it the title of her book.

The cover adds to the nostalgia the book renders. It has a border of the pictures from the envelope with her father’s writing scribbled on it. With the address of the sender and the stamp on the envelope, the cover transports us to the era when there was no electronic communication. Indeed, the cover in itself reflects the daughters' sentiments towards her father who has preserved the letters and made her father’s handwriting eternal by placing it on her book cover’s page.

Published by AuthorsPress, the book is a compilation of 41 poems coming straight from Dr. Bakaya’s heart.

The book has been divided into four sections Footfalls, Granny, Dad, and Mummy. It takes us down the memory lane where there is A Pleasing Serenity, The toothless Grin of the granny, where there’s Dad’s Rockery, and Those Smells of mummy! The poet has beautifully captured the essence of memories and longings not only through the poem but also through the thoughtful titles.

74 Chrysanthemum Chronicles/ Anniversary Edition 2022

The tone of the poems is lyrical, interspersed with dialogues lending a dramatic touch off and on. As we read the poems the book literally spills out stories from the poets' childhood.

“No, my dad is not old, he is just prematurely grey.” …

Ah, how it pained, and to dad I complained.

“I feel bad, when they call you old, dad.

How can you be old?”

“Oh common child, don’t be riled.

Age is just a number, pedal away I am here.”

A heartwarming conversation between father and child as he gives a push to her cycle. Such relatable thoughts and moments for any child who would hate to hear their father being tagged as an old man. And a loving father assuring her that age is just a number. Haven’t we all been through this phase with our parents?

The lyrics in the poems are characterized by the intensity of passionate longing and simplicity. The distinctive feature of Dr. Santosh Bakaya’s writing is the use of imagery drawn from the most varied and heterogeneous sources.

While down below, the Jhelum quietly flowed And the wind lisped happy songs in the willow.

The wind in the neem tree in Jaipur, also sang songs, And the birds also tweeted joyous greetings.

From the sun dabbled lawns in The Black Beauty to the jostling Bapu Bazaar in Jaipur.

Talking about khewa, ksheer chai, kangri, and pheran in Kashmir, and Squinting, as the sunbeams canoodled with the trees. The poet with the agile use of words transports the readers from the present moment to the lands of the yore suffused with nostalgia.

Your trouser legs safely pinned up, Hat hilted to one side, The sunrays playing with your salt and pepper hair.

I saw you once again, yesterday night.

Words are enough for Dr. Bakaya to conjure up an image of a place or a person.

A book that is soaked with nostalgia I just could not help noticing the time described in different hues by the poet in various poems.

‘The happy happy times!’

‘The time was blithe.’

‘When the time was a handsome horse going cliptyclop Galloping at a canter, unwilling to stop.’

‘Time curls its lips in arrogance.’

The intensity of homesickness and longing for the bygone era is strengthened as time moves on in each poem. The reference to the time does show how the poeta reminiscences and preserves each moment as a timeless treasure.

She also brings about emotions in all her simplicity.

I suddenly felt cold, and headed towards my mom’s room.

I knew it was warm there.

These beautiful lines from Unchanging Changes, certainly stole my heart and show the depth of love and affection between the mother and child.

She fondly remembers in Granny of the Red Roses, the meeting of her grandparents. How she had preserved her fond memories. The poeta ponders…

Did she blush?

Did his hands brush her cheeks fleetingly?

Did she gush a thousand little words of gratitude as the Blue Whistling Thrush sang and sang?

Is she still wooing her with red roses up there- his first and last crush?

The poem transports the readers to a dreamland to ponder on the romance that could have occurred between two beautiful souls.

Dr. Santosh Bakaya, a poet with wit, humour exudes like a fountain in her poetry. A naughty, chirpy child surfaces as we flip through the pages, blatantly termed as a leprechaun by her father.

The writing style of Dr. Santosh Bakaya is such that even a sad poem will leave the readers with a smile on their lips. All elements have been fused together to bring out the profound love for family.

Each word in the book starting from the dedication to the epilogue comes from the depth of her heart.

The poet has beautifully penned down each word and has brilliantly immortalized the love for her family.

Chrysanthemum Chronicles/ Anniversary Edition 2022

Dr. Santosh Bakaya is not only a brilliant writer, poet, and author but the recipient of many national and international awards. An academic - poet -essayist- novelist - biographer – editor -Ted Speaker – creative-writing mentor, Dr. Santosh Bakaya has been internationally acclaimed for her Poetic biography of Mahatma Gandhi, [Ballad of Bapu]. Her Ted Talk on The Myth of Writers Block is very popular in creative writing Circles.

Some of her books are: Where are the Lilacs? [Poetry] Under the Apple Boughs [Poetry] Songs of Belligerence [Poetry].

Flights from my Terrace [Essays] A Skyful of Balloons [Novella] Bring out the tall Tales [Short stories with Avijit Sarkar] Only in Darkness can you see the Stars [a Biography of Martin Luther King Jr] She runs a very popular column Morning Meanderings in Learning and Creativity.com. Her International Reuel award winning long, narrative hundred page poem, Oh Hark! is about to hit the market in a new form with illustrations by Avijit Sarkar.

75

76 Chrysanthemum Chronicles/ Anniversary Edition 2022

Though all the stories are very unique and different, two of my favourites are ‘Calcutta Pudding’ and ‘Oops! It All Happened in my Night Gown.’

Review by Associate Editor Shristee Singh

‘They were all breathing. Yes! They had been living and breathing inside me for a long time.’

As Monalisa Joshi pens these words in her acknowledgment and we go ahead reading the stories in ‘Demigods Are Alive’ we literally see the characters breathing and coming to life.

Getting etched in our minds effortlessly, the stories take us on different journeys with myriad hues.

Published by Chrysanthemum Chronicles, ‘Demigods Are Alive’ is the debut of Monalisa Joshi in the short stories genre by her own publishing house. Meticulously edited by Nandita De née Chatterjee, the book is a collection of six short stories. It is fiction, but the kind of characters it brings forth… one will literally find them living in different nooks and crannies of the world.

The chief protagonists in ‘Demigods Are Alive’ are females where we get to see the two sides of a coin—their emotions and strengths, as well as their dilemmas and difficulties.

Monalisa has beautifully crafted out the trials and tribulations they go through. How the little decisions they take make a huge difference in their lives. The characters created by the author speak volumes about her ability to infuse life into them as we see them walking, talking, crying, and loving.

Though all the stories are very unique and different, two of my favourites are ‘Calcutta Pudding’ and ‘Oops! It All Happened in my Night Gown.’

The author takes us to an erstwhile colonial era and creates magic with her words as we move between the streets of Kolkata to the streets of London. Devi from ‘Calcutta Pudding’ comes from a zamindar family with a royal air about her. How a subtle love brews between Devi and Abigail and the many dramatic turns it takes tugs the heartstrings. Monalisa Joshi’s writing style takes the readers to different periods altogether and reminded me of Emily Bronte’s ‘Wuthering Heights’ with a twist, where the story moves between flashbacks.

The title ‘Oops! It All Happened in my Night Gown’ may sound jocular but on the contrary, the story delves into some deep and serious aspects. The protagonist takes us through various mystical realms leaving the readers in awe. Monalisa has created a vivid and dreamy picture that moves forth from dream to reality and reality to dream.

‘As I was about to ask the man standing on the doorway the same thing about time, my head suddenly began to spin and my eyelids became heavy… I was about to fall

Chrysanthemum Chronicles/ Anniversary Edition 2022

down when I felt that he held me by my waist and lifted me into his arms. I was unconscious, I suppose.

Was I?’ The story leaves the readers pondering and speculating. Well, what makes the readers speculate is for them to find out once they pick the book to read!

Most characters of Demigods Are Alive are homemakers. They resonate with the charm and warmth of housewives wedded to their better half.

‘She wore no makeup, no accessories to go with the attire, only a small red bindi (dot) on her forehead.

While sticking it, she noticed the tinge of vermillion marking that was still sitting on the center parting of her hair which she had applied yesterday after a hair wash. She felt like wiping it clean, but after gazing at her face for a while in the mirror she decided not to.’

The lines from ‘The Infidel Muse’ give us some hint of how Mohua, created by the author, is so traditional and sticks to her culture on one side, and yet how her vacillating emotions on the other side urge her to break free of all the bondage.

Chitra from ‘Confines’ finds herself taking care of her sister’s family. How she gets trapped in her emotions to help raise her sister’s children as her own. Like a true mother, she goes ahead pouring her heart upon her foster home. When she finds the love of her life walking in like a fresh breath of air, her family’s reaction leaves one contemplating about the sacrifices she made.

The male characters too have been given due respect in Monalisa’s stories. A different kind of love is shown by two characters in ‘Confine’. Where on one hand Kartik is possessive about Chitra, Ribhudas’ love makes her blossom.

The author takes us through the streets of Kolkata and Darjeeling to London and Pithoragarh through the power of her pen. The stories are primarily based around love that revolves between a mother and child or a husband and wife or between two lovers. Reading the book at times I had a feel of reading a classic Mills & Boons with an Indian background added to it.

Monalisa’s characters are classic yet modern. Chitra, Mohua, Devi, Ulma and Neelima wear modernity with a blend of tradition on their sleeves. The book engages the readers in various ways. There is love, romance, motherhood, and a plethora of emotions. The characters and the impact made by them get etched in the minds of the readers.

Monalisa’s characters are not necessarily ideal ones.

Her characters do make mistakes and move ahead learning lessons. Ulma and Nayantara from the title story ‘Demigods Are Alive’ are such. As the story progresses unfolding some mysterious circumstances,

they come out as evolved versions of themselves with their positive and negative shades.

The author has taken efforts and made the language of the book simple yet engrossing. The dialogues are enthralling and hold readers' attention as they bring about twists and turns in the tale.

“Why…why did you bring this? I mean we really don’t need a mirror,” she said with a shaking voice.

“What are you saying Neeli, we surely need a mirror.” For ‘Mirror Mirror on the Wall’ does pique our attention for the mirror and its importance in the story! Again, what is the significance of the mirror on the wall is for the readers to find out in this sweet and touching story.

In most of the stories, one can sense a classic era created by the author. ‘Demigods Are Alive’ talks about the strength each protagonist carries in them, allowing them to come up as winners. The book has real lifelike characters and the six stories in ‘Demigods Are Alive’ bring out the beauty and essence of the female protagonist that embody a life of strength and sacrifice.

77

Chrysanthemum Chronicles/ Anniversary Edition 2022

Chrysanthemum Chronicles is an Indian Online Journal of prose, poetry, articles, memoirs, artwork, and much more. Its a home to myriad writers and poets from across the globe. Cc's Podcast channel is dedicated to told fiction, stories, poetry and novellas by various writers and poets. Available on Anchor, Amazon Music, Spotify, Google Podcasts, iTunes and some other broadcasting platforms.

Do Listen to our Podcast!

Chrysanthemum Chronicles/ Anniversary Edition 2022

Day 01

Day 02

Day 03

https://anchor.fm/chrysanthem um-chronicles/episodes/A-CallFrom-Beyond--Audio-PoetryAnthology-e1c4ef3

https://anchor.fm/chrysanthem um-chronicles/episodes/TheDancer-by-Preeti-Brahmine10bmp9

https://anchor.fm/chrysanth emumchronicles/episodes/Promise d-For-Eternity-by-Dr-Shweta-Mathur-Lall-e15okal

Bzzt...bzzt the phone vibrates on the side table of your bed. The light impedes your eyes and you pick the device up with eyes half open, half closed; but the number that is reflecting on the screen takes you with surprise, brings you back to senses and you are still in awe. It’s a call from beyond, will you answer it? What would be your first feeling, joy, excitement, or fear? Because that place called ‘beyond’ is where earth finishes and so does life.

Fortunate are the ones who can take a call for themselves, unlike Shubhadra who had grown up on borrowed grains.

She looked resplendent, dressed head to toe in bridal finery.

A bride who shall be envied for being a ‘SadaSuhagan’ for time immemorial. A bride who will be revered and plundered simultaneously. A bride who shall be a concubine to many but a companion to none. Lady of the Lord; married to the Gods- A Devadasi!

Every night she dressed as a bride and consummated her marriage. Her heart sang the song of distress, knowing well that no one would reply....

‘Always remember the bride, you cursed, Shattered within, plundered on earth.

Her soul is parched, her eyes a dried well, Alas! I am a bride, who didn’t cry, but died within.’

The author has chosen through her story a tribute to all the women who suffered in silence, this abominable custom of DEVADASI. It was practised extensively in South-East Asia and Southern states of India, for centuries. Though it’s now banned it’s still practiced in its contorted version.

There is a tyrannized bride, Gauri, in the story whose tears at one point of her life, couldn’t relieve her of her plight; so she was advised not to cry. The same bride, after suffering years of trauma finds herself in a different situation later on. The new situation is one where there is only strength and positivity. There is no thought of tears at all for she has by then woken up to the power she has in determining her own happiness and growth. She looks back to her torturous past only to carry forward the beautiful and useful from there. In helping her realize her own worth and strength is the ‘new man’, with leanings towards the female principle, like the God Shiva. In the story Shankar comes into Gauri’s life, helps her understand her strengths and shows her the trick to subdue her weaknesses; the trick being complete faith and dedication to her chosen passion in life. After his work is done, Shankar exits from her life, leaving her with her bethrothed, who is also called Shiva, in a flood of beauty and love of her own making.

Available on Amazon and Flipkart NEW BOOK RELEASE An icon, a cult figure, or an archetype of art? Who was this slip of a girl in the early 20th Century who brought Mexico to centre stage in the world and has been creating hysteria ever since? What did she portray so vehemently that propelled her to stardom and secured her place at the very heights of the art fraternity? What is her legacy?

To understand the magnitude of her art, one has to unravel the emotional and cerebral process of the persona and look deep into a life that was tortuous, times that were changing and history that was in the making.

Chrysanthemum Chronicles/Anniversary Edition 2022

Chrysanthemum Chronicles

Chrysanthemum Chronicles is a sanctuary where tales from across cultures, barriers and regions breathe as one mottled tapestry. This is the utopian land of contemporary fables, folklores, whimsical tales, stories and verses. It is the candid expression of a literary journey in abundance. It is an endeavor to fracture the shells of coyness and bring out in upfront the true feelings of human emotions through verses, prose and stories that shall touch the deeper core making you want to read more from our books and magazines.

Chrysanthemum also chronicles myriad women writers’ journey but it does not depict any pessimistic thought about feminism. It speaks and expresses gallantly about the female desires, her feelings and emotions that often remain confined within the four walls of her existence. It reflects the aura of womanhood and feminine energy that dwells in her presence through her diversified roles within this universe through literary fiction. Yet however, Chrysanthemum Chronicles is not solely about female desires or her innermost feelings; it vividly reflects the importance of her opposite in her journey and depicts the beauty they create together in their purposeful existence as each other’s soul mates or lovers.

Chrysanthemum Chronicles gives shape to myriad unspoken, unheard love and romance stories, from Asian subcontinents and across the globe through its literary voyage. But it shall also homage those untouched themes, genres and sub genres with eclectic voices that are still waiting to be heard with narrative styles that will grab the attention of our readers.

Modern nymph tales, fables, literary fiction and magic begin here... To have a glimpse of our Utopian Land visit: https://www.chrysanthemumchronicles.com/

Visit the Utopian Land @ https://www.chrysanthemumchronicles.com/

Chrysanthemum Chronicles is metamorphosing to

'Bellissimi'