//You were just an episode in my life, yet I expected you to be the whole story.//
You were my favourite storyteller, the best friend I ever had, but our relation was something beyond the boundaries of names, so you were my someone beyond the beautiful of feelings. I remember how your eyes would light up at those funniest of turns in your stories and I would laugh equally hard each time. I remember kicking off my thought of a time when you would no longer be by my side. Even a thought of you gone would make me cry my eyes out. You were just as close to me like a part of myself, without which I could not imagine how my life would be. No matter how big my problems were they seemed smaller when I had you by my side. Your smile was enough to bring the widest of smile on my face.
Yet you left one day, leaving me all alone in this world. I kept wandering on the streets of your memories, like a lost child, wishing I would someday find the way to my home and I never did find one offering better comfort than you.
Nights grew longer like never and it's darkness more denser. I embraced it with open arms. It whispered to me stories of people with lost battles and I kept drowning in. I kept cursing myself everyday for being a loser in my own eyes, who could not get up and fight. I was blinded by the brightness of the light. Hated myself for being like this. I kept shedding tears until one day there was not a drop in my eyes. I grew up to be a person I was the most afraid of.
I grew fearful of attaching myself ever again to anyone. I would depart from everywhere I felt I was happy in. I did not want to feel how it was to be happy again, for my fear of losing the person was more dominating. I found solace in loneliness, my thoughts grew out to be my friends...
I tried attaching myself to people, but I would be reminded of my fear. I would be reminded of you, and how you were my everything and yet blew away like the wind......
I am not really that good at pouring thoughts into words, and when it comes to framing them in a poem I am so freaking bad. I have this whole new raging mountain within, but I am only able to pour out a part of it. And it's the same me, today.
You have this aura so beautiful about you, you make everyone around feel so good about them. I am not writing this as a compulsion to be very very clear, but people like you deserve so much more. And from people like you I mean people with purest of hearts, which is so uncommon (at least for me). You made me realize black can be beautiful too despite it's nature of absorbing every colour. You don't really know, how only your presence has taught such rich and obviously purest of thoughts to me like treating everybody with respect, that makes me respect you more. There are people you did not really talk to, but their presence makes you feel good. Their interpretation over a certain thing. The way they see things.
Your so intensely described posts makes me leave everything I would be engaged in and just concentrate on what your beautiful mind has to say. The way you compile your thoughts into words is the epitome of beauty. And you the one who sees beauty in everything.
I wish you celebrate this day and everyday of your life with happiness and joy.
WHY DO YOU GIVE DOTS AT THE END OF EVERY SENTENCE YOU WRITE?
//"Cause I feel like few things are always left unsaid", like I so want to tell you this, but it's not all....there is so much in it to explore if you are willing to dive deep into it. Like if you ask me how am I feeling now, I'll tell you I am feeling nothing, but dive deep into it and you'll see I am feeling too much to be able to name. I just am not able to pour into words this raging numbness within. I so want to scream for it is the only thing that relieves, like nothing ever did. But I am forced to shut my mouth, for I can not possibly shout, with people around, without getting thrown the tag of mad at. I may seem all well from outside but, things are all haywire within. I feel like I am left with nothing at all. I so want to pour everything, but I am not able to. I would be talking anything with facial expressions not matching with my words at all. I so want to scribble all the places I've to explore, about all the beauties I am unable to see with these sunken, dark circled eyes but, it's all void I see and in the void I see a girl, who's struggling to come out, but her legs seems to be tied with a rope, or with nothing at all, but are just too tired to move even an inch. Outside this void I see the faintest of light but, I am too tired to even try to reach at...//
I LIKE PUTTING SPACES AFTER A CERTAIN POINT....
YOU SEEM SO SKINNY? DON'T YOU EAT ANTHING?
//"Eating is a tiresome work".....Though it's not all, I am tired of the whole idea of eating. For eating makes me retch more and more. I feel like someone is squeezing my stomach from beneath, so I decide against. I am contented with my empty stomach than the stomach which is filled and wants to retch everytime. I hate that girl in the mirror who has grown so pale and bony with time. I just want to sleep my whole fuckin' day to escape reality, to escape me. Everything seems to have stopped, as if life has lost it's whole pace. I am not dragging myself into all this, but I feel tired enough to stand up and fight.//
Bye, how simple yet how intricate, how voluble. I never could understand you, whenever you would ask me to not say bye (or perhaps I never tried to). I would tease you with 'bye', no matter how much you ask me to stop. It's been three years since you and me are not us. And after all those miserable years someone said me bye. As simple as it sounds, let me be a little clear. Someone I love bid me bye. I didn't ask him to take his words back or didn't ask him to tell it either way, 'talk to you later', like you used to. Albeit I wanted to. But I felt a sudden ache in my heart. Ache that knows no boundaries. That makes you travel to a journey forgotten (not forgotten though, but blurry to be precise). I could sense a sudden change in my emotions, from joy to something I can not name. Something that is not sad but mixture of feelings. That has ache, longingness and cravings mixed all together. I wonder what a word alone can do? I did not understand you then. But perhaps I can feel your pain now. And every pain I feel, it reminds me of you. Reminds me of all the promises I broke. They curse me for being so mean. I don't know it still if choosing your happiness by crushing another's is fine? I can remember that last phone call now. You had so much to talk about and I had only a word, 'bye', the word you hated so much. You had so much and I had only silence to gift you while I bid my farewell. You tried talking to me for so many times after that, but I kept you at bay, not bothering to listen from you. Not because I did not want to, but I knew you would do anything to make me stay and I knew it too if I stop, it would be so hard for me to leave. It's not that it didn't hurt. You cried and I cried as well. But this time not together. You spent your nights groaning with pain. I spent mine suffocating too. The nights had been so harsh to you, it had been for me as well. But I could not remain stuck in a place where I could not be me. I needed to breathe free, right? It's not that I want to come to you again, but I just want to tell 'sorry'. Again a single word, though I wonder if this really even matters, after all these years. Again a single word, though I am afraid to say for it is so overused. 'Bye' a simple word yet so intricate. It ended everything between us (it's not only a word that did so much to us though, but what lies beneath it's surface) I wonder if a single word 'sorry' can heal? (Not things between us to be precise, but your pain?) If yes I am SORRY.
I sat down beside the road in the dirt blankly staring towards the dark sky. The sky was too dark. Ananya was kidnapped. I felt, “I was her lover. I was supposed to protect her from every danger of her life, to be with her all the time. But today, when she was kidnapped by the men, I voulld not do anything. And now? I am sitting idly beside the deserted road. Oh Prayag! Do something! Save your queen! What will I do? I don’t know where they took her. Should I go and search for her blindly in the whole city? Oh! What a disgusting idea!”
“How to save her? How will I save you Ananya? Where will I go? What will I do? Where are you Ananya? How happy were we in the park! And now? You are in the hands of the dirty creatures who call themselves human, and I am crying here, I am frustrated, Ananya. I will die if I cannot save you. I know why they kidnapped you – I will not let that happen.”
I was blankly staring towards the sky. “Oh mighty Universe! Crush me into dust!”
I started crying. I felt my tears crawl down my cheek.
“ANANYA! ANANYA!” I cried.
Suddenly, a brilliant idea struck my mind. “This the only way that can now make me see the light of hope again. This is the only way which can help me to save Ananya. GPS!”
The idea that was gifted to me by the unknown at that moment was to track the number of Ananya. Last night, my uncle who works in an IT park taught me how to track a phone number. It was the only way left with me. I turned on my cell phone, which was actually my mother’s since my parents felt me to be too-small-to-black-carry-a-personal-phone.
The internet was quite slow there but had enough high bandwidth to let me track my Love’s phone. It showed me a way that was straight through the highway, and then the road slightly curved into a…village I think. The location of Ananya’s phone was quite far from the city. According to GPS, it was around – to my astonishment – 15 Kilometers from my present spot.
I walked up to the highway. There were very few vehicles and were occasionally breaking the silence that the night bestowed upon the atmosphere. The wind that was blowing through the city made eerie sounds while it gushed through the forests.
I felt, “I am coming Ananya!”
“Where are you beasts taking me?” Ananya asked the man.
“Oh! I am taking you to a place where we will have fun. You know, just some pleasure! You will feel good, mamoni!” There was a sign of greed in his eyes. His eyes reflected the fate of Ananya. His eyes were the clear symbol of currish human nature.
The jeep drove through a place which was nothing but an abode of darkness. Tall trees marked their presence beside the roads. The soft cold wind made eerie sounds while it kissed the mighty sky-kissing trees. The moon was playing hide and seek with them, but the firmament was not an abode to a single star – the night sky was very dark.
“Prayag will come to save me. He will come!”
“Oh! That filthy fucking asshole! He will prove himself to be the most foolish person if he comes!”
“Let him come once! He will smash you down in the dirt.”
The man laughed. “He will smash ‘me’!”
“Yes, he will. He will call the police once he comes”
“Just shut up!”
Suddenly, Ananya heard a sound. It was her phone ringing. Unaware of the consequences, she took out her phone. It showed – “Sangita Mukherjee is tracking your phone.”
“Sangita Mukherjee is Prayag’s mother. And Prayag’s phone was his mother’s actually, which means he is tracking me! Oh love! Please come fast!” Ananya felt.
The man, on seeing some signs of happiness in her face, and a cell phone in her hand, snatched away her phone. “Oh! So someone is tracking us! I think it’s time to say goodbye to this fucking device.”
Ananya saw him to take a throwing posture, and then, within a fraction of a second, the phone was gone. He gripped and pulled her hairs in his shameless hands.
“Aaaaaaaaaaaa!” Ananya cried with her high pitched yet sweet voice, but the sweetness had vanished from her voice and there was a tone of terror deep-rooted in her voice.
He said with a tone of cruelty mingled in his voice, “Don’t try to be too clever!”
Ananya started crying. Tears filled her beautiful eyes. Her lips gave a slight eloquence. She was too foolish.
- Somsubhra Chakraborty
Now, this may be controversial but hear me out. The entire country was given a sweet surprise one fine evening and citizens were given only 4 hours before the commencement of national lockdown in March. I repeat, ONLY 4 hours. Enough for the privileged to travel home/ panic buy groceries etc, leaving the poor with little to no choice but to find their own way.
The poor, especially migrants, the sick, pregnant women, old men, the crippled all walked thousands of kilometres with threadbare clothes and sometimes no footwear as the police beat and tortured them for “not following orders”. When the little girl cycled 1200km with her father on bicycle, it was a ‘tale of heroism’ not an ‘act of failed governance’. Akshay Kumar was silent, he can always bring light to the matter by acting it out on a bicycle in a biopic (for his own advantage of course).
Since the police beat migrants on roads for the ‘serious crime’ of violating the lockdown for food and shelter, 16 of them tried walking along the railway tracks to avoid spotlight. Hungry and tired, they slept on the tracks, and that was it. THE END. Virat Kohli did not demand justice when he saw blood spilled along the tracks, but he did post a video acting like a dinosaur (it was funny, let's give him the credit)
12 people have been reported killed due to police brutality in India during the ill-planned lockdown and its forced implementation by the Indian police. The state has given a free hand to the police and have made full use of it by beating up citizens. This happened all across the country. No exceptions. Not to forget the 80 people that died on Shramik ‘Special’ Trains. Yes, 80. “Avoid boarding these trains if there is so much problem” said the Railway Minister. Amazed yet?
25 people were killed during the Anti-CAA protest. That is how inexpensive human life is in India. (Assam, UP, Karnataka, New Delhi- where the police is in the hands of the BJP, stood out. Almost all deaths happened in these states. More than 90%). Peaceful protestors were taken away and beaten to pulp in cold cells. Scores of people died, hundreds were injured. Most of them were from the minority community, so it doesn’t matter, does it?
Mind you, the U.S is burning for one man’s death, and it shows you the difference between the two nations. Needless to say, these privileged fascism enabling scumbags who stay quiet upon countless human deaths (or should I say murder) deserve to utter a word? No! But they sure do feel sad for the poor elephant. Cute. I am deeply saddened. It costed the poor animal its life, for trusting us. But something about these so-called celebs feeling ‘sad’ doesn’t sit right with me. India is its people. And its people are pathetic. Rest in peace, dear elephant. You are at a better place, I think.
(Tell me why you wanna waste your time reading this?)
I caught you. I caught you smiling. Or should I say you were practicing how to smile? Who does that? You. You closed your eyes, took a deep breath and then looked straight. I don't know what flashed in front of your eyes but you managed to smile somehow. Why is it so difficult for you to smile? The way your lips trembled before curving up, hurt me. I could see a wave of emotions hitting you as the curve reached its peak. Few drops of water just flowed out of your eyes as they forced to smile a little more. You tried but you couldn't. With each milimetre, you asked them if it's enough. They were greedy for your smile. Cause they really loved it. I loved it too. You never did. But they still do. You have some problem with the curves of your lips. You neither curve them up nor down easily. You know how to keep it all in by pressing your lips into thin line, and your jaws on each other. Do you feel that warm wave of emotions reach your head as your nose turns red? “Don't talk so loud!" They tell you so many times. They'll never know the reason behind it. I've heard your lowest voice. So low that some letters of the words get lost in the tension in the air. I've tried to fill the blanks. But no words made sense to my senses. I've listened the cracks in your voice when you tried to empty your heart out. The cracks said alot more than your words did. The way you look down after struggling to say a blur sentence, hurt me. You take your head in your hands and say ‘no, not again' always. Always. You look up and smile. You were sitting on a chair. Your knees folded up to your chest. You brought your hand in front of you and thought for a moment. You closed your fist tight. Holding everything and every person in your life in your small fist, you felt them for the last time with you. You almost made your mind. Slowly you started opening your fist and just as I knew, you stopped. This time too you couldn't let anything go. As tears rolled down, you immediately closed your fist again. You failed again. You took your closed fist to your heart and opened it against it. You dumped everything in your heart once again. You wiped your tears on your own once again. I couldn't feel you once again. You laugh to smile to make up your mind to listen songs to sing them to cry in the end. You laugh to cry. You dance alone in the dim light till you can laugh on your own. You are a definition of weirdness. You are fine. Made of fine particles. Of fine emotions. Of fine lines of damage and repair. Of fine rays of hope and love. Of fine dust and rain. The finest you is the most fragile you. When will you learn to use the word ‘fine’ the way it is supposed to be used? You've lost your mind. And you're forcing me to lose mine. So that we can accompany each other. But I'm really sorry for I can't do you that favour. Please forgive me. Right now, I'm the worst company you can ever have. Trust me. Trust me this time, I'm sure you won't regret. Take care. Okay?
A blank canvas lies at the coarse floor of my dimly lit room .I pick it up with my creepy hands and take out some gloomy yet colourful tubes from the brown broken drawers ! I take up the brush , it's hair scattered like the thoughts in my wicked mind , I try smoothening it but fail . I dip that brush in a few colours one by one after painting a stroke of each ! I try to make something vibrant and charming . Soon my eyelids become heavy and I can't paint more .
The colours I painted haven't dried and are dripping from the edges of the canvas. With my index finger which has chapped cuticles I smudge the paint all over and throw the open colour tubes in the Corner of the room where my blood stained clothes lie. The smudged coloured canvas is now a brownish grey with the mixture of all glowing colours .
I guess that's what life is . You merge the most beautiful of colours to get something soothing and blithe in return , but what you get in return is mass of pain , of some melancholy grey or brown . Irony , isn't it ?
I paint a curve on that melancholy canvas with a stroke of white colour . The wind rushes in from the window just like it did the night when i was weeping and turn the canvas at a degree eighty more than cent. The curve which was made for a smile is now a frown , an ugly frown in front of me .
I spill a glass full of water over the canvas and watch it getting drenched and grin at it . I kick it , sit down right there hugging my knees and bothering my aching head , asking it the same question for thousandth time "Will any frame in this world hold my pieces of art , for I know I'm wicked and my red patched wounded hands can paint nothing except dark poetry "
M slowly drowning deep into chaos of my brain Once again m on the path from where I'll reach nowhere Once again ... M dieing but still smiling Once again ... M nt able to feel happiness Everything gone wrong Everything m doing is wrong From peace to silence and silence to chaos
Again m pretending .... M pretending so noone will qws what's wrong... I don't know what's broken inside me...
M nt able...damnnn m not able for anything
Courage is shattered into such small pieces that even gathering them pricks ... From now nothing gonna be alright... Will everything be right again..? There's only chaos in brain... Even talking to people feels like m doing wrong with them... Damnn m lost somewhere i can't come back from... Watching all this helplessly m wishing, it to come to an end... There's all chaos ... I don't know what it is... Everything is changed... Yeah m changed
I regret my own decisions While i know i shouldn't I regret saying "hello" to my friends...While i know i shouldn't ... I regret talking to new people while i know somewhere i need it... I regretttttt... I regret about everything knowingly that there is nothing to regret about... It feels like i am writing just to get condolence but it is not so... I doubt myself... I question myself... I blame myself I feel like I'm looking for excuses to be downcast... I feel like there is nothing to be so.. Yet i feel sad ... Yet i feel lost ... But one part of me knows that it is not so there is a reason for everything, yet it does... It doubts ... When i try to explain myself that this is what i feel... even my soul says m just defending my deeds, M just giving excuses but for what i also dont know... While writing this my own self is saying "you are writing this to get sympathy", "you are writing this just to show" but it is not the truth...
Thinking before you do is good... But what then, when you start to think even about the small thing ...?
You listen "know your worth" ... But what then, when you feel you are not worth for anything?
The sinews drip like sonance from taps half-closed to put show in jest visuals clandestine of a play of time in excerpts for fools extracts for rest barring but fierce essentia, merely gawking fowl with untimely flaps an epoch in splits of splinters stuck in amorphous gaps of the sublime self as stagnance haunts continuance withal abolished concerto
where conspired laughter shines in light that sourced from tutored jest emphatic gestures abolished concerto
Hysteric polygons stochastic tracings obey no Bayesian channels no axioms shall state nor ever papyrus scrolls shall mark in tar's ink
superposed pixels scattered my being from beginning to new beginning as the stop watch counts and stops our motions of existence emotional bursts don't come in periods, no harmonicity estimates our motivations clandestine and Nature's too
as it holds contest for next in line all the while laughs for never dethrone it shall
Perhaps we should never have been any more than Creation's fuel and bits of fossil too beneath the shifting dunes