Could not get you quite. What is it that has given you this impression of my 'vocabulary' becoming 'constrained at times'? However, you are your own arbiter as a critic and it is well known that literary accomplishments are necessarily followed by copious literary criticism. In such terms it is welcome too.
My writings are references to my moods and are often incomprehensible to the casual reader. They need deep meditation which I do not expect facebook readers to oblige me with for they have other preoccupations of life. But the inner grain of my thinking I can follow and I scarce expect anyone else to fully do so for they are not privy to my thoughts or philosophy or the complex meanderings of my mind.
Thought in elevation, contemplation at an altitude articulated by the author are exercises that necessitate in the reader a protracted course of deep thinking in objective understanding and adequate apprehension for a fuller communion between source and estuary.The heights of the Himalayas are frozen but when they flow down as the life-giving river-water, they create civilisation. Of such stuff is the mountainous mind with its pinnacles beyond ordinary reach but its plateaus and plains populated with the fruition of its higher existence.
I write spontaneously never with the reader in mind save for myself who am the instant reader of the thoughts fomenting in my brain and am happy thereof. It becomes a bonus, nay, a boon when well-meaning and sincere readers like you grace my writings with your glance. But here there is a pitfall. My writings are not easy pickings and they require much brooding than the common reader is apt to be giving them. His will necessarily be a straying into the pastoral garden of my thoughts. And here the paths are a maze for the thoughts that ramble in my being are waltzing ever to their own fantastic rhythms and the fanciful cognition thereof seek expression through words and images as in a vision delightful and luminous, full of cadences that cater to no societal sanity that appreciation be easy. It is the impression created by the music of words, the lilting tunes wafting through the summer breeze, the high resonance of moods gathering and dispersing that is the soul of my writings.
O reader, here you must give in to the sway of the soul, to the flow of the words as they carry you beyond hills and dales to a realm unknown, or in the secret chambers of your heart pulsating to its rhythm. Surrender to the flow, let the soul lift to its supernal heights in an ecstasy unbounded and delivering itself unto freedom.
Written by Sugata Bose
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