Open Daily: 10am - 10pm | Alley door pickup 10am - 7pm 3038 Hennepin Ave Minneapolis, MN
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  • Open Daily: 10am - 10pm
    Alley-side Pickup: 10am - 7pm

    3038 Hennepin Ave Minneapolis, MN
    612-822-4611

Open Daily: 10am - 10pm | Alley-side Pickup: 10am - 7pm
3038 Hennepin Ave Minneapolis, MN
612-822-4611
Nothing Takes All

Nothing Takes All

Ghosh, Anindya

Hardcover

General Poetry

ISBN10: 1543708900
ISBN13: 9781543708905
Publisher: Partridge Pub India
Published: Dec 22 2022
Pages: 88
Weight: 0.49
Height: 0.38 Width: 5.00 Depth: 8.00
Language: English
The poems in this collection have been written across decades which had seen 9/11, the invasion of Iraq, the Tsunami devastations, the rise to power of fundamental forces and also now, the advent of chemical war debilitating the core human societal systems. Humans, in their mad rush of modernization, stepped into the digital age. It's true that the digital fabrication in all realms of life has brought sophistication, convenience and financial strengths. But at the same time people are plunged into alienation and distress, sacrificing their simplicity and privacy. As Orwell mentioned, one did not want to be loved so much as to be understood - the global capitalist power in their pursuit for the next threshold of consumerism, has incarcerated the entire race in a cage of surveillance, greed and terror. And ironically, with full consciousness of these, every day we are giving in. But as the ancient scripts say, noble thoughts are flowing from all directions and we have the works of Mandela, Malala, Al Gore, Nadia Murad and many more which are still making this planet a heartening place to live in, having good faith in our fellow individuals. Within these difficult times, people are dreaming, loving, singing, caring for their families, creating exhilarating artworks and giving birth to new lives, touching and to be touched by that one gleam of infant smile which overflows the mind with peace and fulfillment. These poems tried touching such moments, such passions, such memories and melancholies which in the cosmogonic specter of things might be nothingly futile but in the quiet corner of an individualistic mind, they melt, mold, smelter and fuse to make all our being, us

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