Monday, 12 June 2017

Full moon in a cloudy night.

There's something so serene, so beautiful about a full moon in a cloudy night that it makes it nearly impossible to describe it in words. You just have to feel it to know it. The clouds – some white, some pitch black, skiing thorough a rather clear sky. And the moon, playing hide and seek with them – sometimes it decides to unveil itself, shining through the darker clouds, overthrowing their dominance, sometimes it hides behind the white ones making them glow like neon lampposts in a distant road, and sometimes it even tries to pretend to be crescent, only to surprise afterwards.

“Don’t you think we live in a world which was predetermined for us? Whatever happens takes us towards where we’re supposed to end up. And when it does, everything starts making sense. That job I quit, that city I visited, that risk I never took. Everything somehow falls beautifully together like missing pieces from a puzzle.” She said, still half dozed from the alcohol and the day long journey combined.

“But are you sure it was destiny? Was it mere luck that those decisions somehow aligned? Or is it us who chose our fate? Think about it, what if that day you never had said yes for the trip? Your life would have been the same. We would have never met, but your life would have continued. You would still be happy, maybe or maybe not. But my point is, it was your decision altogether.

I think life is a game of probability. You get to roll the dice, but the sides will always be six. You would have limited options to choose from. But you must choose. And whatever we choose, we own it, our achievements and mistakes, our smiles and heartaches.” I said, looking towards the sky.
The clouds now thickened. Covering every bit of the gorgeous glow. No matter how hard the moon tried, it couldn’t sneak a peek. Only thing that still reminded us of how beautiful it was under those thunderous clouds, was the moon dust, the afterglow that some clouds carried from the time when the moon still could breathe. And as it is said, you can only know someone’s worth when they’re not with you anymore. Same goes for the moon too, the only difference is, the clouds around the moon will soon go by and it’ll come back, unlike people.

 “Perhaps! But I still think that whatever is meant to be, will happen. It might take a shorter or longer route, based on what we choose, as you said, but it’ll happen for sure.
Tell me don’t you believe in intuitions? The feeling you get in your guts that you should do a thing or refrain from it? Can that moment of self-believe be derived with logic?  You just know it, you know.
I think that’s how the universe converse with us. It tells us what to do to shorten the distance between you and your fate. We all are a part of a bigger picture and we have our own roles play.” She said.

 “I agree with you to some extent. The only thing that I would add to that, is at the end, even the universe asks for our approval. It gives us that gut feeling, that intuitions, but leaves the choice to us. Would we take its advice, or we decide otherwise is our own call.” I replied

“Tell me something, what’s your take on relationships, do you believe in clichés? Do you think that someday someone will come and share your pain and your happiness?” She asked out of the blue. I stared right at her face, she was looking at the sky. I could see the stardust settling down on her face, finding peace in it, and her face glowed like a thousand fireflies captivated in a jar. The night might not have had a moon just then, but the chair beside me surely did.

“Oh I believe in clichés. Clichés are clichés for a reason. The truth within is what makes them clichés. But my clichés are different. I believe in suffering. I believe everyone has to suffer in their own way. It’s a matter of fact of time that you’ll get hurt in any relationship, but until you don’t, there’s nothing more fun than them.
See, I’m a wanderer hitchhiking from one place to another. That is how my life has been. Staying too long in one place scares me to the core. I wonder if one day I feel like to stop running. Will I be able to?  Some questions never found their answers.” I said I sighed and looked up.

The clouds that were fighting for their turn to hide the mood and feel proud of their darkness were long gone. The moon was still there, though it’s light dimmed to minimum. The sky came to rescue and was trying hard to light itself. The night was almost over, sun would soon overshine her and even though the moon will be there, no one will notice her for the next twelve hours.
I could see the horizon turning red, followed by an orange and yellow aura. The dull dark sky suddenly turned colorful like a painter had spilled all his colors over it. Like everyone else, it was time for the night to leave.

“I have a cliché for you.” She said. “What’s darkness? The absence of light. What’s evil? Absence of goodness. And what’s pain? Absence of happiness.
Don’t you think that if you believe in suffering and pain you, you’re also believing in happiness and ecstasy?  Think about it, you can only know what’s suffering if you have seen better days. Look, I’m not asking you to start believing in something all of a sudden. I’m asking you not to stop. And that being said, I want you to answer your question. You don’t have to do that right here, right now. You don’t have to share your answer to anyone. But you owe that to yourself, don’t you?” She asked.

The tiredness was evident on her face, still she somehow managed to look as beautiful as ever. I could see the orangish yellow aura slowly turning white and the redness around the horizon taking an oval shape. Somewhere near some birds chirped. The night full of thunders and clouds now slowly was turning into a dawn of songs and morning breeze. I saw her fighting hard with her hairs, which were determined to wash away stardust from her face and she struggled to save them. She caught me staring – “What?” she asked.

I pointed towards the horizon and replied – “Look, It’s a new day!’”



Source of the picture : here.

Friday, 28 October 2016

Butterfly

You’ve crawled, all your life,
Asking questions, you don’t want an answer to.
You’ve followed, all the rules,
Making promises, and following through.
Oh caterpillar, climbing up the ladder
Of a world you don’t believe in.
Stop for a while, take out your time
Feel the silk hugging you in.

You’ve watched, up from a branch
Pretty souls, come and go,
You’ve drenched, fists clenched
Witty travelers, to and fro.
Oh cocoon, wake up soon,
For you have to change the sky.
Shake off the dust, burn out the rust
Because it’s your time to fly.

You’ve seen, tears of the queen,
From the top-right window on the castle.
You’ve kissed, the morning mist
And rained tears into the riffle.
Oh butterfly, wake up and try
For you only get one day to live.
Take off the wig, learn to forgive,
Because you’ve given all you had to give.

Tuesday, 25 October 2016

With you.

When the wind will kiss your face,
Your hair will fly in grace.
The merry-go-round of thoughts
Will jump from place to place,
I’ll be wandering, with you.

When sky will darken with storm,
Paper-boats will be crushed and torn,
The rail of cold will blow with full horn
You’ll need a shoulder to lie on,
I’ll be frightened, with you.

When the sun will finally smile,
Birds will chirp, tears will dry,
Dust will be washed from a pile,
You’ll get up and again you’ll try
To walk on the aisle,
I’ll be brave, with you.

And when the leaves will turn yellow
Skin will turn gray and smiles mellow,
When you’ll lose all your glow,
I’ll grow old, with you.

Will you?

Saturday, 16 April 2016

You.

She willed herself to not check her phone to see if he had replied. It had been about three days now. She hated that she was constantly checking his 'last seen at' status and yes, he had logged in just five minutes ago. Yet she couldn't stop herself. This sinking feeling to find absolutely no communication from him was becoming unbearable, almost torturous.
And then, just as she sat down in her chair, her phone vibrated. With her heart thudding in her ear, she unlocked her phone and stared at the screen. Finally! It was his message.
But when she opened it and read it, she nearly stopped breathing. She didn't know ifhe was joking or not. What was this?
“Look to your left.” It read.

The massive crowd of Kolkata Metro, especially this time of the day made it almost impossible to move your head, let alone spotting someone in the midst of it. But from the corner seat, she somehow managed to look up, to the left, and among many unfamiliar faces, she found the familiar one. Gobsmacked, she was. She didn’t understand. He should be in another country, riding a train to grand central may be, but there he was, standing in the jostle of Metro crowd, with no trace of worry on his face. He was smiling.
A hearty smile, was the first thing she remembered that ensured that she falls for him. And when he flashed that enticing heart-stealing smile of his one more time, she knew that it’ll take a lifetime, maybe more to get over him.
“Hey.” She tried to shout, but the buzzing sound of the rail ensured that never reaches his ears. He waved his hands, asking her where she’d get off. She pointed, the next station. They both got down from the train.
“You’re supposed to be in USA right now. What are you doing here?” she asked as soon as she got the chance.
“I changed my mind.” He said, still smiling.
“What?” She still was in an awe.
“Are you hungry? I’m starving. Let’s go get something to eat.” And before she could answer something, he took her hand and started dragging. He was always like this. The youngest child of the legendary ‘Chowdhury’ house of Shyambazar. Always doing what he wanted. He wanted to study commerce, so he did. He wanted to pursue economics, and he did. He wanted to do his masters from
abroad, and he got in. But now, he wanted to not go, so he didn’t. Adamant, persistent, there isn’t an adjective with similar meaning that can’t define him. And she, on the other hand, was the calmer one. Music, art and poetry that interested her more than numbers.
They were childhood friends. Their parents were business partners. Though the business never worked out, but their friendship did. And with that came thousand memories.

“Mitra café?” He asked. She nodded.
In came the famous kabiraji and cutlet.
“Will you tell me, or do I have to ask again?” she said, taking a bite.
“Tell you what?” He replied, instantaneously.
“Sounak…” she warned him, rolling her eyes.
“Okay okay. Ask me, what do you want to know?”
“Why are you still here?” She asked.
“Because I never got in the plane.” He said, paying no heed to her curiosity and concentrating solely on his mutton.
“Why?” she almost shouted.
He gobbled the meat, put down his knife and fork, looked up to her, and replied reluctantly –
“Because I didn’t want to.”
“I don’t understand. You scored the highest marks in your college. You got into the University of your choice. You even secured a grant. Then why are you backing off?” She still was confused. “Because I belong here. This is my home, and I can’t leave my home.” He said.
He was a rational man, or so she thought. She never knew he could take such a decision purely based upon emotions.
"You had your life planned. It was perfect. Why would you abandon it? Just because you’ll be away from home?" she asked.
“Yeah pretty much. I realized I could never leave Kolkata.” He replied, still on his cutlet.
“What?” she tried to understand him.
“Wow I didn’t know that Kolkata means so much to you.” She said. Again he put down his fork and replied in a disturbed tone -
“Why won’t it? It is like the oldest companion I have. It has seen me being born. It has seen how in lazy Sundays I curl up in the front porch and listen to Manna Dey. It has seen me in my best, and in my worst. It has seen my cricket playing phase, my pink floyd loving phase, my long beard, short hair. It has seen me grow. My first friend, first math book, first school dress, first guitar, first cigarette, first parker pen, it has given me all my firsts. I know in its lanes like they were veins running through in back of my palm…”
“But is a city enough to hold you off your dreams?” she cut him midway.
“Dreams change Divya, and so do we.” He said.
“So you want me to believe that the love of a city changed you?” She asked.
“But you know it’s not solely about the city. It’s the people that changed me. You know, just a few days ago, when I was all set to go, Baba came into my room, my things were packed. The room never seemed so big. He came and sat on my bed, and in a shaky voice, he told me how proud he was. But never, not for once had he looked me in the eye. I knew the reason when I saw a tiny drop of tear escaping his eyes.
Later, when I told him I won’t go, I again saw another drop of tear finding its way out. This time he didn’t tell me how proud he was, instead he scolded me. But believe me, more than words could explain, the difference between those teardrops explained the truth. He never wanted me to go.”
A silence prevailed. She had known him for the most of her life, but had never seen this side of him. And the strangest part is she couldn’t make how she should feel. Shattered? Because he’s throwing his life away just like that. Or happy? Because at least now he will always be in her sight? Ever since childhood, she was madly in love with him, but never had the courage to confront. For she realized that numbers and figures are more important for him than flowers and kisses. But this new found side of him shook her beliefs from the root. She thought she knew him. But now she doubted that. She realized all she ever knew was a fraction of him, maybe the larger one, but it still was a fraction. The fraction he let her see. The fraction he himself unveiled to her, and the fraction she unveiled of him. He was far too real to be bounded by a finite number of adjectives, she thought. “If you’re not going, then what are you going to do here? Are you applying in colleges? for your masters?”  She tried to understand him, the most she could. “No.” he replied.
“Then?” she inquired. A strange smile tuned up on his face. His eyes danced in the rhythm of excitement.
“Well, I’m thinking of starting the restaurant again.” He said.
“Are you serious?” her face lighted up. It was the same restaurant that her and his fathers opened jointly.
“Yeah. I mean think about it. The restaurant has been shut down for year. Yet our fathers never thought of it to sell.” He said.
“But it didn’t run well the first time it was opened? What made you think that it’ll run good this time? And have you spoken to your baba about it? I don’t know about him, but I know my Dad. He’ll be tough to convince.” She almost shouted. The mere idea of opening the long lost restaurant was exciting for her too. She had so many childhood memories there. And besides when he is so excited, it’s tough not to be excited. After all, excitement is a contagious emotion. “I believe, if I can convince them to let me have it, then I can make it work. I’ve done a detailed research of how much it would cost, and how profitable it would be if it is operated with patience and precision.” He said, flashing a smile. “I have faith in you. I know you can do it.” She smiled.
They finished their plates. The waiter came in with a bill in his hands. Sounak put a five hundred rupees note in the booklet and said, “Divya…” “Yes?” she replied.
“Apart from Kolkata, baba, and everything else, there was another reason why even when reaching the airport, I could not get in the airplane.”
“What reason?” She asked, trying to think what other reason it could be.

He replied with a smile, "The reason is..."




Source: here.


Thursday, 24 March 2016

Reminiscence.

I’ve heard,
The pinch of skin,
That forms an oval indent on her perfect face
Catches more attention than Monalisa’s grin.
I’ve heard that with a single look
She can penetrate someone’s heart
Like a sharp knife does to a blob of butter.
I’ve heard she sings the sweetest of songs,
Recites the darkest of poetry.
She dances like there is no tomorrow,
And she paints flawlessly.

I’ve also heard,
Rumors about her past,
Men she'd been with, men she'd lived part.
I’ve heard people pray, play and pay
Just to be with her for sometime.
But she was like a hurricane,
Binding her would be a crime.
I’ve heard stories made of her,
About her beauty and fame.
The most desirable woman. Or so they claim.

But so much can be heard from beyond the reach,
So one day I decided to meet.

She was something that all of us wanted to be,
She had everything that we wanted to have.
She was somebody the warriors could die for
She was someone all men wanted to grab.

My search began from the mountain
And moved to the plain.
Seasons changed but my search didn’t stop.
Someday it scorched, someday it rained.
And then, in a vacant warfield I found a stain.
Of a place I’ve never heard of, and a name.
After a few hiccups I found the den,
Of the most gorgeous woman.

‘Don’t spill the secret’ the guard said.
‘Let others find themselves,
Of this place and this cave’.
And in I went, to darkest corner,
And waited till the sun kissed the roof
And finally I could see her,
Loud and clear.
Just like the stories said,
Just like I pictured her.
There she was standing tall,
Smiling through the mirror.



Pic courtesy  : 5phoron( Supriyo Mondal)