HOW I WANT THE LAST EVENING OF MY LIFE TO BE

Before quitting everything. I want to recap every happiness. Or maybe the only happiness I had. Even today this foyer is brilliantly lit up in the golden light of sundown. The tower clock, standing tall and far eclipses a greater portion of the horizon from my sight, the immortal pendulum of whose now, perhaps pities my stroll to departure. As the oscillations of my rocking chair gradually diminishes, drowning with it the creaking of its timber, I graciously race back to time.The time when the sun down at this foyer of my house smelt of crushed coffee beans dissolving to hot milk that...

“Pleasure of Sex” versus “Pain of Hunger”

The flame reluctantly glowed over the last piece of timber they managed to put together to fight cold that night. Soft flakes of snow like a summer drizzle kept pouring from the dimly lit sky and the otherwise green foot hills of the Siwalik’s, now looks like an art paper untouched by its artist. Held above the shutting flame, on a thin bamboo streak was their supper for the night; hind limbs of a lamb. From the tint of the flesh, one could say it was a long way to go to be roasted fully and the strong winds that constantly rose from the pine woods to threaten the fire was making sure...

BOOK REVIEW OF “THE HOMING PIGEONS”

A NOVEL BY SID BAHRI About the author:- Siddartha Bahri, a Ranikhet based author, is yet another example of an ex-banker storming the Indian literary world. With his approach towards writing, deep down I could imagine this guy coming into discussion, whenever a bunch of book bugs in any part of this country, delves into discussion about Bhagat and Tripath...

Liebster Award Nomination

Liebster Award Nomination First of all I would like to thank Barkha for nominating my blog for this awar...

My Lost Princess - Part 3

I kept the letter in my bag and headed for school but all the while my mind kept traversing around images of those glorious meadows of Mallikpur, my ailing dad and Rini.  I wonder what must have happened to the village. Dad kept telling me that situations there were worsening and so I must stay back in Kolkata and finish my schooling. But never did he reveal to me the reasons of not taking me to Mallikpur in the past decade. Was it something that...

My Lost Princess - Part 2

I crossed the road and walked up to the concrete pavement beneath the peepal tree. It was from there that I saw a little girl sitting on the ground and sobbing. She looked absolutely uncared. Her little round face was stained with tears and her thin brown hands were continuously trying to wipe the wetness away. Tiny bells on her silver anklets jingles every time she shook her leg and the sound of it in the backdrop of a calm afternoon gave me goose bumps. ...

My Lost Princess - Part 1

Summer of 1970 Mallikpur Village Some 200 kilometres from the city of Kolkata… It was a humid afternoon and the sun was beaming at its pinnacle. Warm wind was drifting through the village making the leaves of peepal tree quiver at its place. It was under the shade of that peepal tree that I sat bent on my toes with the shooter marble in the crook of my index finger. As I placed my knuckle on the earth and closed my left eye to aim perfectly, I could...

BOOK REVIEW - "The storm in my mind… Ami Kolkata and Confessions"

A Novel by Ayaan Basu About the author - Ayaan Basu, hailing from the city of joy – Kolkata, is an example of yet another engineer turned author. Needless to say but these people are really flooding the Indian literary market. His first book was a collection of bengali poetries clubbed under the title, “Nasto Cheler Galpo”, which was written during the second year of...

BOOK REVIEW – “EX…a twisted love story”

A NOVEL BY NOVONEEL CHAKRABORTY. Well, for me there are 3 kinds of author. 1. Whose books are bought because of their facial charm. 2. Whose books are bought because of extravagant promotional activities and also because of that one successful book they produced many years ago compared to so many flops in recent times. And last but not the least… 3. Whose books are bought because they leave you mesmerized with their words and thought process. Novoneel...

The Spring of 90

2002 – The Present. It is raining heavily. The sky appears to have thrown across itself a shawl made of deep grey wool. I am running on my toes towards the river bank with my blue rubber sandal tucked in the curl of my fingers and a diary held against my chest. Each running step landing on the rain soaked earth kicks up innumerable droplets of mud that splatters onto the rolled up trouser of mine, creating an untidy mosaic. My body has given...

SAVERA. An art of unrequited love – Part 3

Sobhan Pramanik I was in the plains but my soul remained in Manali. Somewhere amidst those mountains and the pine forest; learning to play the Harmonica from Savera… My patience was undergoing the test of time. I wanted to leave my college midway and return to Manali. I wanted to sit by the rumbling stream of mountain water and listen to her play the harmonica. I wanted to lie down on the grass by her and see the sun play hide and seek with the clouds. I wanted to spend every single moment of my awaiting life with her…. ...

SAVERA. An art of unrequited love – Part 2

A harmonica playing girl, who wore a threadbare frock, had a light brown complexion and sombre hair. Well, this was Manali’s first gift to me for the love and respect I had showed to this place in all these years. Every gift deserves to be treated with utmost care but some deserves to be loved as well. She was one such gif...

SAVERA. An art of unrequited love – Part 1

Part 1 It was early March, the onset of summer in the plains and the Gulmohars were starting to blossom. My college term had ended and like every year I was all set to leave for the hills, to my grandparents place in Manali. As the train drew out of the station and started to gain speed along stretches of overgrown meadow...

BORN FREE

Your NAME is just a noun till the time you are working over the draft of your life to accomplish the listed objectives. Once you are done with accomplishing your objectives, your name won’t just be a noun. It will then be the definition of Success. And what if you don’t succeed in achieving your objectives?? It won’t be a definition to Failure, it will be declared as an Attempt to achieve something that was not meant for you. Having legs is one...

The Over-baked Toast

Sunday means I was supposed to take her out. Sunday means I wouldn’t take any calls from my office mates. Sunday means she would sit unmoved with a stupid face pack for an hour or so, which means in that one hour I need to do everything that comes up. From giving away the clothes to the laundry guy to attending calls from my in-laws. Once I was peeing and half way I had to rush out of the toilet to take the call of my mother in law. Ah!! That pain...

Darkness is not the absence of light…It’s the absence of right sense.

Insomnia was steering my life those days. A good sleep sounded like a boon for me. Some bewildered thoughts, few unsaid words, unending wait and an acute pain were my only companion of my sleepless nights and hopeless days. It is 8th of June, says the digital table clock. And with it the clock of my mind reminds me that it’s been two months I have been robbed off all my happiness. And most importantly I have spent this gruesome period of two months...

LOVEVINE

In the golden light of a burning wax mold... I see her twinkling eyes having the memories, old... She was worried about the tomorrow that is untold... I held her hand and promised to walk into the future, bold. Under the night sky calm and dark... I wish our love is always marked...with its entity as eternity...with its depth as divinity. She is in my arms, warm and cozy...complementing the air, rosy. It’s the darkness and a glass...

Just 10 SHOTS OF VODKA BEFORE VIVA…innumerable after it.

1. First one down the ducts. Ah! I wish I studied man. 2. Second one. Einstein? He failed in Physics. 3. Third one. Four months wasted for each semester. It’s half the time a sperm needs to be identified as something close to human. 4. Fourth one. You don’t need wings to fly. All you need is the wish to do so. 5. Fifth one. Dean is a dick head, three hour of exam can’t judge a student’s potential. 6. Sixth one. Winds. Darkness. Clouds. She. J 7....

Jinke gusse me bhi mere liye pyaar tha…

I could see papa bent down to kiss your forehead… I could see a drop of tear run down your cheeks... I could feel papa caress my curled fingers and your eyes flood with tears of joy… I was in her arms…looking at her face that shone in the joy of having me in her arms… I just wanted to know- Who else would have lived the pain… Who else would have shed their blood…just to kiss my innocent face… I could feel my papa’s finger in my clutch… I try to get...

TUMI ROBE NIROBE (You’ll remain silent in my heart)

With the light of dawn tracing its first streaks on the skin of the night shedding sky…and the air of living beautifully blanketed by the heart-warming melodies from the pages of ‘KOBI PRONAM’, the day couldn't have asked for a better start. On his 152nd birth anniversary we heartily remember the legend whose words had been a constant source of inspiration to us. The person who made history with his ink dipped feather, sitting by the window...

WHY ME??

By Sobhan Pramanik I was born like any other kid…till you drew the line of discrimination. When their innocence was kissed …I was earning myself a living. When they danced to joy as their parents got them balloons …I suppressed my hunger just to work longer. When they were held by the caring arms of their childhood …I was torn by the brutal present. I don’t have any regrets; but one question. Why me?? When they played with their...

I love you more than you love me.

The lush green lawn basking in the warmth of the mid-morning sun rays witnessed the contagious moments of our togetherness. The canopy of the dense Peepal with its jovial branches playing in the tranquil breeze etched a cool a shade on her face for seconds before it was once again exposed to the the aureate light of sun. I lay on the grass quietly intently listening to her enthusiastic talks. She was never tired of talking and listening to her was something...