View allAll Photos Tagged RabindranathTagore
Let your life lightly dance on the edges of Time
like dew on the tip of a leaf. -
Rabindranath Tagore
Missing your lovely photostreams, but busy with something. Will stop by when I get a moment. Thanks for your comments and visits :)
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Jodi tor dak shune keu na asey, tobey ekla cholo re
~Rabindranath Tagore
If they answer not to thy call, walk alone...
~As translated from Bangla by Tagore himself
There are men and then there is the man who shapes men. Rabi Thakur (as the great poet is known in Bengal) has shaped my mind as the expert potter who molds mud-pots in silence. I have been reading and singing him ever since I was less than a decade old. Although I have formed some opinions contrary to his with age, but tenets of my thinking have all remained borrowed from his great mind. I used to think of him as the towering demi-god viewing and commenting on human pain and suffering from an elevated vantage point. That was a mistake. He is a towering human who wrote as he bled and felt it all. Take the above song for example… He wrote this masterpiece after his father's death; This loss was in succession of losing his wife and two children few months earlier and his mother in early childhood. Orphaned in every sense of the word, this man must have felt lonely. He must have seen how stars, despite roaming in clusters, are alone and far apart. He must have realized that the sun rises alone and the crescent moon melts and forms by itself. On Earth, the pupa metamorphoses alone to become a butterfly that dances alone. The wind blows alone and raindrops fall by themselves. If the poet cried to fend his emotions, he might as well have noticed that his tears too fell alone.
But then, life is to live relentlessly despite the solitude. Ask the star, moon or the butterfly. Perhaps it is a quest to melt into something bigger than oneself and therein attenuate the loneliness. Thus, stars burn their hearts and the poet says, ‘If they do not hold up the light when the night is troubled with storm, O thou unlucky one, with the thunder flame of pain, ignite thy own heart and let it burn alone.' So I do. As I fly my destiny and dark clouds of melancholy hover over my head, I spread my arms and let the wind fill my burning heart with the music of a distant voice that whispers his words. And I remain obstinately airborne.
PS: My dear friends and family on flickr (yes, I have been adopted as son and brother here on flickr), please know that all of you have siezed certain moments when you have robbed me of my solitude and flown with me in my worthless creative pursuits. I can never thank you enough. Happy New Year to you all from Pushpita, Rishabh and myself. I hope 2012 brings you what you seek.
New Bengali scraping website www.crazycolorscrap.com
~here we play songs on images
“Night's darkness is the bag
that bursts with the gold of the dawn.”
~ Rabindranath Tagore ~
“Truth, like the burgeoning of a bulb under the soil,
however deeply sown, will make its way to the light.”
~ Ellis Peters ~
Push "L" and jump into my forest with me!
Its interesting how the photographic elements just fall in place sometimes if we just keep our eyes open and the finger on the shutter release button.
Baul singers performing during the Durga Puja.
Bauls are a group of mystic minstrels from West Bengal and the country of Bangladesh, who often identified by their distinctive clothes and unusual instruments. They a great influence on Rabindranath Tagore's poetry and on his music. In 2005, the Baul tradition was included in the list of "Masterpieces of the Oral and Intangible Heritage of Humanity" by UNESCO.
Here the men at the left is playing "Khomok" (aka Gubgubi), a two string cord instrument made of wood and the person at the right is playing "Dotara", a multi-stringed instrument made of the wood of a jackfruit or neem tree.
Must say, had a wonderful time listening to their folk music.
BEST in LARGE view
Title by Meanest Indian
Light
by Rabindranath Tagore
Light, my light, the world-filling light,
the eye-kissing light,
heart-sweetening light!
Ah, the light dances, my darling, at the center of my life;
the light strikes, my darling, the chords of my love;
the sky opens, the wind runs wild, laughter passes over the earth.
The butterflies spread their sails on the sea of light.
Lilies and jasmines surge up on the crest of the waves of light.
The light is shattered into gold on every cloud, my darling,
and it scatters gems in profusion.
Mirth spreads from leaf to leaf, my darling,
and gladness without measure.
The heaven's river has drowned its banks
and the flood of joy is abroad.
[Scanned and lightly edited]
Clouds come floating into my life, no longer to carry rain or usher storm but to add color to my sunset.
" Rabindranath Tagore"
Bengali poet and 1913 Nobel Laureate in Literature. "I do not put my faith in institutions, but in individuals all over the world who think clearly, feel nobly, and act rightly. They are the channels of moral truth."
THE tame bird was in a cage, the free bird was in the forest.
They met when the time came, it was a decree of fate.
The free bird cries, "O my love, let us fly to the wood."
The cage bird whispers, "Come hither, let us both live in the cage."
Says the free bird, "Among bars, where is there room to spread one's wings?"
"Alas," cries the caged bird, "I should not know where to sit perched in the sky."
The free bird cries, "My darling, sing the songs of the woodlands."
The cage bird sings, "Sit by my side, I'll teach you the speech of the learned."
The forest bird cries, "No, ah no! songs can never be taught."
The cage bird says, "Alas for me, I know not the songs of the woodlands."
There love is intense with longing, but they never can fly wing to wing.
Through the bars of the cage they look, and vain is their wish to know each other.
They flutter their wings in yearning, and sing, "Come closer, my love!"
The free bird cries, "It cannot be, I fear the closed doors of the cage."
The cage bird whispers, "Alas, my wings are powerless and dead."
by: Rabindranath Tagore
Baul music celebrates celestial love, but does this in very earthy terms. Though Bauls comprise only a small fraction of the Bengali population, their influence on the culture of Bengal is considerable. Baul music had a great influence on Rabindranath Tagore's poetry and on his music.
'Poush Mela' is an annual fair and festival that takes place in Shantiniketan, Bolpur in Birbhum District of West Bengal, India marking the harvest season. The key characteristic of this fair include its live performances of Bengali folk music, notably Baul music.
( Source : Wikipedia)
(c)Amitabha Gupta
Unauthorized use or reproduction for any reason is prohibited. Please contact me personally for any use of this photograph
7,45 am
first day of classes
"The mind,
sharp but not broad,
sticks at every point
but does not move."
-Rabindranath Tagore
Purity
Life of my life, I shall ever try to keep my body pure, knowing
that thy living touch is upon all my limbs.
I shall ever try to keep all untruths out from my thoughts, knowing
that thou art that truth which has kindled the light of reason in my mind.
I shall ever try to drive all evils away from my heart and keep my love in flower, knowing
that thou hast thy seat in the inmost shrine of my heart.
And it shall be my endeavour to reveal thee in my actions, knowing
it is thy power which gives me strength to act.
GITANJALI
Song Offering
Rabindranath Tagore
la alegría está en todas partes,
en el perfecto equilibrio de la figura humana,
en el vivir,
en el aprender...
BEST in large view.
Song Offering #103
In one salutation to thee, my God, let all my senses spread out
and touch this world at thy feet.
Like a rain-cloud of July hung low with its burden of unshed showers
let all my mind bend down at thy door in one salutation to thee.
Let all my songs gather together their diverse strains into a single current and flow to a sea of silence in one salutation to thee.
Like a flock of homesick cranes flying night and day back to their mountain nests let all my life take its voyage to its eternal home in one salutation to thee.
-Rabindranath Tagore (from Gitanjali )
Thanks for your visit, hope you enjoyed, kindly leave your comment , that will be very rewarding
Must view large
The shot:
Two soft boxes in the back pointed at the screen with 1/2 power
One strobe with F8 power in front left of model , gold reflector on right.
taken with Canon 5D, 50 mm hand held, manual F8, 1/125, ISO 100
Child's Message
"Every child comes with the message that God is not yet discouraged of man" - Rabindranath Tagore...
"Wishing all a very happy Easter"
This time my younger son Subhon decided to be the model. Usually he's very free infront of the camera.
Enjoy the moment !!!!
I would highly appreciate, if constructive criticisms are given for improvement.
All my images are copyrighted.
If you intend to use any of my pictures, for any usage, you need to contact me first.
Thank you.
"The sleep that flits on baby's eyes
- does anybody know from where it comes?
Yes, there is a rumour that it has its dwelling where,
in the fairy village among shadows of the forest dimly lit with glow-worms,
there hang two shy buds of enchantment.
From there it comes to kiss baby's eyes.
The smile that flickers on baby's lips when he sleeps
- does anybody know where it was born?
Yes, there is a rumour that a young pale beam of a crescent moon
touched the edge of a vanishing autumn cloud,
and there the smile was first born in the dream of a dew washed morning
- the smile that flickers on baby's lips when he sleeps.
The sweet, soft freshness hat blooms on baby's limbs
- does anybody know where it was hidden so long?
Yes, when the mother was a young girl
it lay pervading her heart in tender and silent mystery of love
- the sweet, soft freshness that has bloomed on baby's limbs."
~ Sir Rabindranath Tagore, 1861-1941~
The Source
One Daniel dies, and this Daniel, his great-grandson, is born. Life goes on and if Baby Daniel has a fraction of the wisdom of his Great-Grandfather then he will do well in life. Welcome, Baby Daniel!
Rabindranath TAGORE (1861 – 1941)
A Moment's Indulgence
I ask for a moment’s indulgence to sit by thy side. The works
that I have in hand I will finish afterwards.
Away from the sight of thy face my heart knows no rest nor respite,
and my work becomes an endless toil in a shoreless sea of toil.
Today the summer has come at my window with its sighs and murmurs; and
the bees are plying their minstrelsy at the court of the flowering grove.
Now it is time to sit quiet, face to face with thee, and to sing
dedication of life in this silent and overflowing leisure.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
O clipă de împlinire
Rabindranath TAGORE), India, (1861 – 1941)
Rogu-te, doar o clipă de bună voinţă, ca să stau lângă tine. Lucrul
ce am de împlinit, poate rămâne pe mai târziu.
Departe de icoana feţei tale, sufletul meu n-are nici odihnă, nici răgaz,
iar munca mea devine o corvoadă nesfârșită, într-un ocean de trudă neţărmurită.
Astăzi, vara, cu suspinele ei, a venit la fereastra mea, în timp ce
albinele îsi cântă zumzetul lor, la curtea majestoasă a crângului înflorit.
Acum e timpul să ne privim, față în față, și să înălţăm
cântul vieții, în această clipă liberă, debordând de împliniri.
(Rendered in Romanian by Constantin ROMAN, London,
© 2013 Copyright Constantin ROMAN)
www.romanianstudies.org/content/2013/02/poetry-in-transla...
On the seashore of endless worlds children meet.
The infinite sky is motionless overhead
and the restless water is boisterous.
On the seashore of endless worlds
the children meet with shouts and dances.
They build their houses with sand
and they play with empty shells.
With withered leaves they weave their boats
and smilingly float them on the vast deep.
Children have their play on the seashore of worlds.
They know not how to swim, they know not how to cast nets.
Pearl fishers dive for pearls, merchants sail in their ships,
while children gather pebbles and scatter them again.
They seek not for hidden treasures, they know not how to cast nets.
(...)
On the seashore of endless worlds children meet.
Tempest roams in the pathless sky,
ships get wrecked in the trackless water,
death is abroad and children play.
On the seashore of endless worlds is the
great meeting of children.
Rabindranath Tagore
বড়ো বেদনার মতো বেজেছ তুমি হে আমার প্রাণে,
মন যে কেমন করে মনে মনে তাহা মনই জানে॥
তোমারে হৃদয়ে ক'রে আছি নিশিদিন ধ'রে,
চেয়ে থাকি আঁখি ভ'রে মুখের পানে॥
বড়ো সুখে, বড়ো দুখে, বড়ো অনুরাগে রয়েছি জাগি।
এ জন্মের মতো আর হয়ে গেছে যা হবার,
ভেসে গেছে মন প্রাণ মরণ টানে॥
- রবীন্দ্রনাথ ঠাকুর
From a family of rag pickers, lives behind the huge statue of Nobel Laureate Rabindranath Tagore, erected on the sides of Mahatma Gandhi Marg at Lucknow.
“Ah, these jasmines, these white jasmines!
I seem to remember the first day when I filled my hands with
these jasmines, these white jasmines.
I have loved the sunlight, the sky and the green earth;
I have heard the liquid murmur of the river thorough the
darkness of midnight;
Autumn sunsets have come to me at the bend of a road in the
lonely waste, like a bride raising her veil to accept her lover.
Yet my memory is still sweet with the first white jasmines
that I held in my hands when I was a child.
Many a glad day has come in my life, and I have laughed with
merrymakers on festival nights.
On grey mornings of rain I have crooned many an idle song.
I have worn round my neck the evening wreath of bakulas woven
by the hand of love.
Yet my heart is sweet with the memory of the first fresh
jasmines that filled my hands when I was a child.”
~ Rabindranath Tagore, 1861-1941 ~
We set off before 5am to arrive early at the flower market. Even so many people were leaving having already made their purchases. The atmosphere was wonderful with heaps of flowers everywhere. It was very dark inside - the blooms were illuminated by hanging lamps so I took almost all the shots without flash.
Scroll down for more.
Life here often requires hard work. The heat would spoil many of these flowers later ... and people need flowers and garlands for the temples. Women wear fresh jasmine in their hair each day (no need for perfume!) So the traders buy their wares, return home and get weaving to sell their purchases and catch early morning commuters and worshippers. Creating the jasmine garlands is like weaving or knitting. Each flower bud is individually knotted into a length of cool, fragrant rope. But huge wreaths are also created for use in temples or hanging on gods or statues. They are used in pujas - a sort of blessing ceremony.
O poder infinito de Deus não está na tempestade, mas na brisa.
Rabindranath Tagore
__________
The infinite power of God is not in the storm, but in the breeze.
Rabindranath Tagore
"Que la vida sea bella como las flores de la primavera, y bella la muerte como las hojas de otoño".
Rabindranath Tagore.
This has been a prestigious national theatre, constructed by the Andhra Pradesh State Government, in the name of Sri Rabindranath Tagore.
Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn; Rabindranath Tagore; Sigrid Undset; and William Butler Yeats
Barbie, Larry's older sister, owned this book, along with the rest of its series.
"Things throng and laugh loud in the sky; the sands and dust dance
and whirl like children. Man's mind is aroused by their shouts; his
thoughts long to be the playmates of things.
Our dreams, drifting in the stream of the vague, stretch their
arms to clutch the earth, -their efforts stiffen into bricks and
stones, and thus the city of man is built."
~ Rabindranath Tagore, 1861-1941 ~
Bain News Service,, publisher.
R. Tagore
[1916. Nov. 21]
1 negative : glass ; 5 x 7 in. or smaller.
Notes:
Title from data provided by the Bain News Service on the negative. Date based on negative LC-B2-4054-6.
Photo shows Rabindranath Tagore (7 May 1861 - 7 August 1941).
Forms part of: George Grantham Bain Collection (Library of Congress).
Format: Glass negatives.
Rights Info: No known restrictions on publication.
Repository: Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division, Washington, D.C. 20540 USA, hdl.loc.gov/loc.pnp/pp.print
General information about the Bain Collection is available at hdl.loc.gov/loc.pnp/pp.ggbain
Higher resolution image is available (Persistent URL): hdl.loc.gov/loc.pnp/ggbain.23240
Call Number: LC-B2- 4054-4
Butea monosperma (syn. Butea frondosa, Erythrina monosperma, Plaso monosperma; Kinshuk, Palash, Dhak,Flame of the Forest, Bastard Teak or Parrot Tree), is a species of Butea native to tropical southern Asia, from Pakistan, India,Nepal,
Sri Lanka, Myanmar, Thailand, Laos, Cambodia, Vietnam, Malaysia, and western Indonesia.
In West Bengal, India it is associated with Spring (season), especially through the poems and songs of Nobel Laureate Rabindranath Tagore, who likened its bright orange flame-like flower to fire. In Santiniketan, where Tagore lived, this flower has become an indispensable part of the celebration of spring.
Bain News Service,, publisher.
R. Tagore
1916 Nov. 21.
1 negative : glass ; 5 x 7 in. or smaller.
Notes:
Title from data provided by the Bain News Service on the negative.
Photo shows Rabindranath Tagore (7 May 1861 - 7 August 1941).
Forms part of: George Grantham Bain Collection (Library of Congress).
Format: Glass negatives.
Rights Info: No known restrictions on publication.
Repository: Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division, Washington, D.C. 20540 USA, hdl.loc.gov/loc.pnp/pp.print
General information about the Bain Collection is available at hdl.loc.gov/loc.pnp/pp.ggbain
Higher resolution image is available (Persistent URL): hdl.loc.gov/loc.pnp/ggbain.23242
Call Number: LC-B2- 4054-6
The night has ended,
Put out the light of the lamp
Of thine own narrow dark corner
Smudged with smoke,
The great Morning which is for all
Appears in the East.
Let its light reveal us to each other
Who walk on the same path
Of pilgrimage.
Rabindranath Tagore
Baghdad
24 May 1932
Astad Deboo's "Interpreting Tagore", in tribute to Rabindranath Tagore on his 150th birth anniversary at Taramati Baradari, Hyderabad on 8th Jan, 2012.
This is actually probably a moth, but I liked the quote :)
This little guy was on the foundation of the house when we went to go scratch our initials into it. I thought it was too cool to pass up :)
MOST DEFINITELY best in large view:)
Clavadistas de la Quebrada...(uno), (dos), (tres), (cuatro), (cinco), (seis)
Clavadistas de la Quebrada...(seis)
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Passing Breeze
by Rabindranath Tagore
Yes, I know, this is nothing but thy love,
O beloved of my heart---this golden light that dances upon the leaves,
these idle clouds sailing across the sky,
this passing breeze leaving its coolness upon my forehead.
The morning light has flooded my eyes---this is thy message to my heart.
Thy face is bent from above, thy eyes look down on my eyes,
and my heart has touched thy feet.
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