Sunday, November 05, 2017


90% of the people seek perfection in some form in their lives. But they don't get it. So they become sad and depressed.

90% of the remaining try to create perfection instead. But they fail. So they become frustrated; sometimes angry.

90% of the remaining create something which some people find perfect. They receive appreciation. So they become proud and boastful.

And the rest?

Well, they just create. And forget. And create again. Some of their creations are imperfect, some are incomplete; most of them are criticized by others, and only a few are appreciated. But nothing moves them. They create not to achieve, but to build. These are the happy people.

Children are happy. 99.9% of the adults are not.

image from google search; more precisely - from

Sunday, October 08, 2017

Love Your Life

Life is Time.
Time is Opportunity
To Find
What you want.

Know What.
Know Why.

Get it.

You'll know How to.
You have Time.

Life is Time.
Time is Opportunity
To Get
What you want.

Know What.
Know Why.
Know How.

Are you getting it?

Thursday, October 05, 2017

The end of all duality

Sometimes when I'm too happy or too sad/distressed, I experience a beautiful moment of clarity. Someone inside me knocks at the heart and I hear this voice: "Hey! How are you enjoying the movie?" :)

From my early days, sometimes I wondered at my own existence and the purpose thereof. Probably every teenager goes through this phase. But for me, the difference was that it continued to be a vital question that I couldn't forget. Looking at my hand, I wondered, is this Me? Observing the fleeting thoughts in my mind, I wondered, is it I who is thinking? Then after many years, I came across the most beautiful description and it perfectly made sense to me!

When you are in the cinema, and the movie is going on in the dark, we feel strong emotion in the climaxes, chilling moments in the horror scenes, and even shed a few tears in the emotional parts. But we know it is a movie, we just enjoy all the experiences good or bad and if it was a good film, tragic or funny, we always end up saying with a smile and contentment that it was a good one! The real Me is like this screen, on which the movie is projected. If a small kid walks in while a movie is running and asks about the screen, we will end up pointing towards the ongoing cinema and the kid will think that it is the scene or the characters which is the screen. Which is not quite right. Yes, the scene and the characters are on the screen, but they are not the screen itself. Only when the lights are on, only then you can see the screen! The screen does not take part in any of the drama, it is the still ever-calm witness. It never gains or loses anything from the movie, but without it the movie will not exist. It is Existence itself, whereon one movie after another goes on playing, immersing the audience (the mind-body complex of the people sitting in the hall) with the scenes of the movie (sensual objects), making them laugh, cry, despair. But itself, the screen just exists. The real Me is that screen.

The hands and legs and everything physical is the gross body, whereas the mind is the subtle body, but part of the body no doubt. If you cut off the head, all the thoughts stop (well that's what we know). So obviously the mind is connected to the body and does not exist independently. It is like the glass of milk, which seems perfectly plain and white in our naked eyes, but under a microscope it is nothing that small globules of white fat floating in a watery liquid! Amazing, isn't it!

I am neither the body, nor the mind. I am in them, but they are not in me. I am pure Existence. Whatever tangible that I feel, be it bodily pain or mental joy or emotions, they are just affecting this mind-body complex. I am untouched, unattached, unaffected!

I have realised that the only way to live life is to Love. Love everyone, love everything, love every moment. But love them not as objects, but love them just because they are part of You, your existence! Fall in love not with the gifts but fall in love with the gifter of the reality of receiving the gifts! There is no good, there is no bad. There is no friend, there is no enemy. It is only You. You are the giver, and you are the recipient. It is just You everywhere, in everything! There is no God sitting in Heaven driving us, there is no Satan waiting in Hell to punish us. These are just stages of your existence, and it is you who decides how you are going to experience Heaven or Hell now and every future moment!

Coming back to Vivek Panda, I think this me knows this truth somewhere but fails to sustain it in every action. I am still weak, thinking about the Biriyani, thinking about the job, thinking about succeeding in the next karate tournament. But whenever any situation or person tries to bind me too hard, I feel this immense pressure from the voice within to break free! It pounds on my head saying, "There is nothing tangible in this universe that you need to seek. You are already complete, you already have everything that you need. May be Vivek Panda cannot be in the relationship with that beautiful person, but she has already someone (and so it is you in another person enjoying that possibility), or even if she is not with anyone, you can never possess her like an object! We think the urge for enjoyments and sensual pleasures can be gratified by indulging in it. But no matter how many chocolates you have had in your lifetime, does it ever occur to you that the quota of your chocolate in this lifetime is finally over? Indulgence is a habit, it is like a bottomless cup, it just never can have enough!

So, the purpose of my life is Love. And love so much that it breaks the boundaries of this Vivek Panda and everything and everyone around. This is my destination, and whatever I do, whichever way I take, I hope it takes me closer to that ultimate goal.

Thursday, October 01, 2015


Had to share this...saw this quote on my calender:

God of death does not give notice of his arrival to take hold of you. He is not like the photographer who says, "I am clicking, are you ready?"

Sunday, November 09, 2014

No Man's Land

These walls are still tainted red. 
An eye for an eye has made them red. 
And then I see your eyes! 
Immersed in the blue of this sky. 
They whisper about the fence. 
The fence that lies there partitioning a nation.  

The breeze runs through it, doesn’t it? 
So don’t I see light? As shadows of midnight creep in? 
I am afraid! 
My dark, lonely room hangs on that barbed wire. 

Memories crowd my dreams as I wander into the orphaned land. 
My heart kneels to Time.

Dew-drops. Time stops. 
And I walk the path I see in your eyes. 
All alone. 
Through the fence. 
Through the dense darkness of human misdeeds. 
Into that nameless space blindly lit by your light. 
Into that desolate no man’s land.

Go tell them. 
That the new map they made now rests among torn dreams and nostalgia. 
The poems rot. 
And the songs are wasted.

Time blurs everything. 
Do I even remember you anymore? 
I hang on this barbed wire. 
And wonder if Death feels like this no man’s land. 


* This poem is a figurative translation of the lyrics of a very popular rock song in Bengali. No copyright infringement intended.

Tuesday, July 01, 2014

Tiny poem

Your love killed me
My hatred did not allow me to die.....

Sunday, June 01, 2014


You look at your watch. You know it’s time. Time to start walking. Down a hallway. You see a door in front. You want to open it. You know there are many doors in this hallway. Each of them separating you from a world of its own. A world different from its previous one. A world with a newer set of rules. You are here to walk. Just. The doors come to you one by one when the time is right.

You walk towards the first door. You unlatch it.

Dream 1:              2014. Early in the morning, you are getting ready for your office. The morning paper is all messed up lying on the table. Your coffee cup is almost empty. The TV is playing some cartoon in loud volume as your kid is getting ready for school. It’s another day. A nice day. What do you do next? … You have your breakfast. Say bye to your kid. Leave your apartment, get into your car and lock the door. And drive. To your office. Because that’s what you do. Almost everyday. You work. That’s your profession. And that’s how you live your life.

You keep walking. And face the next door. You pause for some time. You breathe in. There is a sense of relief in what you have just seen. And you think which world will you be visiting next and what more or new can it offer! You unlock the second journey.

Dream 2:              3014. It’s a sci-fi world you are living in. Humanity has celebrated its biggest triumph 200 years back. Humans were able to create food directly from sunlight mimicking the process of photosynthesis. 3 people had won a nobel prize and many were saying that this was the greatest discovery ever made in the history of mankind. The discovery has been recently commercialized into a product that common man will be able to buy in the market in another 10 years! A device which is going to make food for you if you keep it under the sun. That simple! You do not need to 'pay' anymore for what you eat!

This is a phase of transition humanity is going through now. Two major changes are slowly creeping into human life for the first time. The definitions of ‘Profession’ and ‘Money’ are changing; you realize, that hundred years later, the future generation may not even know that people on earth once used to ‘work’ to ‘earn a living’! You are perplexed. Because you thought life was all about surviving day-to-day problems and then suddenly, one day, some problems just vanished from your list! But you do not know whether to celebrate or to become hostile. Because you know something new is coming your way and you may not be ready for it. People around you have already started talking about joining a job just to kill time. And some are piling up money fantasizing what all they can do with it, now that they need not spend money over food!

You do not familiarize yourself with this world. You have never seen it, never thought about it. However, now in the hallway, it does appear to you as something which is real. So, what do you do next? ... How do you want to spend your time in this world? Doing what? Why? … You keep thinking. And you walk along. You find the third door.

Dream 3:              4014. The world is run with robots that are always at your service. Your wish is their command. The present generation of humans does not use the concept of 'money' anymore. When they read about it in history books they find it quite difficult to understand. Give and take continues in the society as it always has. However, the exchange happens, now, not between two humans - as no person has anything that another cannot have - but between the humans and the Reserve! The term 'Wealth' is slowly vanishing from the human dictionary!

Though all of it sounds crazy, you actually do understand how this system works. You have seen it before. In a huge library that almost houses every book on the planet. Anyone can have any book they want. Anytime. Just as there can be many copies of a book, similarly, in the present world, there are innumerable numbers of resources in the Reserve. And the resources are unlimited. So now you do not need to 'pay' for anything!

You sense how different this world is! Meanings of words like 'Value' is on the verge of getting permanently changed. And you just cannot get 'Popular' as you are no different than others! Communication between fellow human beings has decreased to a minimum and people are saying, that in years to come, the word 'Society' might also see a refinement in its meaning. Many, in fact, look at the current world as the last and defining step of Human Evolution.

And this is also to tell you that humans are not confined to earth anymore. They are colonizing in outer space. As you have fantasized during watching Star Wars, on TV, thousands of years back! 

So, now comes the question. The question which becomes more and more relevant to you and more and more difficult for you to answer as you keep walking down this mysterious hallway. “What do you do next? How do you decide to spend your time in such a world?”

You find a fourth door in the hallway and someone whispers to you that it might be the last one in your journey.

Dream 4:              6014. Human beings have the greatest gift of all now, which make all their earlier discoveries and achievements look tiny. Through the progress of Science, Technology and Medicine humans have achieved immortality. There will be no more deaths now as the secret of rejuvenating the human body has been unlocked. Population has went up so much that humans have started spreading all across the universe!

 But that is not your concern. Your concern is to answer that one question that has been bothering you since you started opening new doors in this hallway. Now you know you had been missing something all along; right from when you had started the journey in 2014! So, what really do you want to do with all the time you have? What do you want to do, now that you are immortal? … It becomes even more difficult to answer and the issue of not being able to answer becomes even more significant. You see what lies ahead of you in the hallway. A mirror. Only. You look at yourself. You look hard. Who are you

Dream 5:              You see a different world in the mirror. Where you do not need to get up in the morning and go to work. Where there is nothing that others have and you cannot have. Where you know you are not going to just die someday. Space and Time is for you to take over. But, for the time being, you are just looking at yourself! Because you do not know what to do next. You still have not been able to figure out an answer to that question! You do not know how to spend your time!

 In fact, the Designer of the Dreams has decided to add more spice to your life with a last moment twist in the plot. This new world you are seeing now in the mirror has one difference with respect to the previous one! It’s only you who is living there. There is no one else. You are alone.

For the sake of logic, let's say that something had happened, long time back, and that had made you the sole survivor on a certain human colony – a planet, which is not earth. You have no communication with humans on other planets! Neither do you know or have the technology that can fly you out from there! Now, as you see yourself in the mirror, the mirror asks you the same question. “What do you want to do next? How do you plan to spend your time?"

The hallway has ended. With that question. You look at your watch. You know it’s time. 

Thursday, March 13, 2014

An encounter with Maya

Today I met her.

She was sitting in a corner of the library, pouring over her open Macbook with several books strewn all around.

I took my seat opposite to her with my usual bunch of books and could not resist noticing the name of a bright green book that was lying around on the table: "Dreams". I was almost sure that it must be the famous book by Freud. I struck up a conversation.

"Maya, what are you reading? Freud? May I take a look into this book  if you dont mind?"
It took me almost 20 minutes to compose & speak the above words. She replied with a gentle & sweet smile.

"No. I'm trying to learn Spanish. This is just a book written in Spanish."
"Maya, why are you always so difficult to predict?"
"Maybe because you think that you can predict everything. There must be somebody to challenge you, right? Dont you like to be challenged? I'm sure that you do."

She knows me very well. I think she knows everything about me. I mean, if you're complete strangers, there is still a non-zero probability that you'll see each other sometime somewhere. But only if somebody knows your every movement, your every pulse & impulse, only then she would be able to elude you. For so long.

I asked again, "The warning alarm of the library has gone off. May I buy you a drink, if you dont mind?"
Again she maintains, "Unfortunately not."

"Maya, why do you think we never meet? Is it that I'm too unacceptable?"
"I dont think so. Maybe because I'm too close to you to see. You see me  in every couple holding hands & sharing a smile. In every random cute girl who passes by. In every careless whisper that catches your ear. In every gentle touch. In every tinkling laughter. You cannot see me everywhere and then again want to find me in a single person. Make up your mind first!"
"Why? What is the problem in that?"
"Problem? Your entire perception makes you blind. Blind with expectations. Blind with desire. Blind with pointless agony. If you see me everywhere, then even if I come to you as a person, you'll reject me."
"That is completely not true. Every time in my life, whenever I found even a fragment of you in any single person, I loved you wholeheartedly."
"Yeah. And there lies the problem. You just love the fragment. Not the entirety. You analyse. You criticise. You tear apart all the goodness & badness and try to deconstruct & reconstruct it in your own way. You are always driven by your mind. Do you even have a heart? I have profound doubt regarding that!"

My lips trembled. Do I have a heart? I would like to say that heart is all that I have, everything else is wrapped by it. But I could not say it. She speaks so confidently that it confuses me every time.

She goes on, "Every single time you find the fragment, you think that you can do better. You're never happy with what you've got. You need it all, all at once, in a single piece. But life is a maze. I always come in fragments. If I came in a single piece, we would be instantly annihilated. Some might say in explosion of energy, positive energy if you like to say. But I say, annihilation is always destruction, deconstruction, irreversible. Either you get lost in your mind or in your heart."

She is right, I think. If she would come  to me I would forget everything, all fear, all other connections, all earthly cares. She would be my Lolita. Mine, and only mine. And finally, this will destroy me. Perhaps she eludes me only to save me from annihilation.

"Maya, do you think this will go on like this forever?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, that will I keep chasing your shadow like this for all my days & never find you?"
"Yes. If you keep chasing my shadow I shall float away forever. But if you ever dare to look me face to face, eye to eye, confront me... then maybe your luck would change. But would you? I think you're too much in love with the faceless, nameless, non-existing shadow. It will be hard for you to move into the sun from it and face the heat. Are you ready?"

I kept silence. What could I say? I gathered composure and muttered for one last time:
"Shall we meet again?"
"Like this, I hope not."
"But what if I never meet you under the sun? Promise me then at least you'll not take away the shadow from me."
"The sun always goes down.", she said with a smile.

And she walked away into the darkness of the night.

Sunday, March 02, 2014

Maaya, me and the Open Fields

This post is a sequel to Maaya, me and this Warped Space-Time which was originally written way back in 2007!

And then, suddenly, in the middle of my journey we met again. I met Maaya. It has been seven years! It took me seven years to realize that I was actually searching for her again. Seven years to realize that she has been with me all this while and that I have always failed to accept that fact. 

“You still carry that note?” she asked me.

“I do”, I said. The note actually underwent so much wear and tear that I never knew when exactly it had penetrated my head and had found a place to live inside. 

“You look calmer now. Lot more peaceful”, she smiled, “So are you at peace with yourself? Could you interpret that word?”

We were walking down a street. It was spring time and the trees had started growing new leaves. The road has been tanned by the night, only now starting to have slight shades of orange. Six o clock in the morning, the sunlight was in the process of gradually tilting from horizontal to oblique. I could see no one walking down that path. Except us. 

“I couldn’t create love, Maaya!” I said, “I tried but I couldn’t”. 

“Love was never for you to create!” she said, “I am surprised that you even tried!”

“I never wanted to try it”, I said, “But letting go was never easy.”

“You wanted it and didn’t want it at the same time!” she turned her head and looked at me, “What you wanted didn’t exist!”

“I wanted it my way”, I said.

“You know that’s selfish”, she said. “And like all other selfish ambitions it only stays as a mirage, burning in your heart, that you keep chasing all your life”.

“I agree. I don’t want it anymore”, I said.

Her hand was sensing mine all this time. Now her fingers slipped into the gaps of my fingers. A soft feeling, the feeling of being one, slowly started to seep in.

“And what changed in these seven years?” she asked. 

“I knew why I wanted it”, I said. 

She was silent.

“We all require an identity, Maaya”, I said, “A personal identity. How we see ourselves. If we will stay happy for the rest of our lives being who we are today.”

 “So are you at peace with yourself?” she asked me. 

I didn’t speak.

“Are you happy?” she asked after a pause.

“Yes”, I said.

“How can you be happy if you are not in love?” she said.

I stopped walking and so did she. “I think I am in love, Maaya” I said. 

We looked at each other. I saw a twinkle in her eye. She pressed my hand. And smiled. “I know”, she said, “I could sense”.

“But I am not in love with another person!” I said. “This has been such a disturbing thought that I have always struggled to come to terms with it.” My voice shook a bit, perhaps from the immense courage I needed to muster to confess the feeling.

“Look!” Maaya pointed towards the orange of the sky which was now slowly fading into the blue. I saw a group of birds, streamlined into a pattern, flying towards the sun. “They are migrating”, Maaya said, “Aren’t they beautiful?”   

The day broke after sometime. The sun made everything around it warmer. We came across some open fields. I saw a small hillock at a distance. It was green everywhere. We sat down on the grass which was soft as velvet. My hands felt dew. 

Maaya was wearing a frock today. It was white with some petal-designs on it. “You look beautiful!” I said.

“How do you know you are in love?” she looked at me. 

“I can’t stay away from it”, I said. “No matter what I do I always find myself going back to it. Whenever I wish, wherever I wish. Love is all about how much time you are spending together, isn’t it?”

“Maybe you are addicted!” she said.

“Maybe I am”, I said, “But isn’t it all about addiction then?” 

“Yes”, she said, turning her eyes away from me, “Life is too short for frivolity!”

The dew on the grass had started evaporating. I could hear birds chirp now. There was this moistened air of the morning surrounding us. 

“I love solving puzzles, Maaya!” I said. “Puzzles on how things work. Science, they call it. And that’s what I do now for a living.”

She smiled. Just. “I never asked you to create love!” she said, “You have already created for yourself whatever I wished you would create. You see that hillock”, she pointed towards the distant green, “You may just find your violet rose there if you go now!” She laughed. 

“Shall I get it then?” I said.

“Do what you want to do!” she said with a smirk, looking slightly miffed, and those were her last words before she disappeared again, “One day you will realize the things that you don’t do are the things that you have actually never wanted to.”

Writer's Note - You may want to Google the term "Love Addiction" after reading this. Thanks. :-)

Thursday, December 05, 2013

Happiness is... :-)

What is happiness? When you wake up every morning rushing to start your day, and when you go to sleep each night waiting eagerly for the next morning to come. When time flows by and you do not notice, you do not stop to judge yourself, you do not ask: 'Where am I going in life?' or 'Is this the right thing to do?'.

Happiness is knowing what you want to do with your time. In some years you will be dead. And once you die no one is going to remember you; at least, in the long run. Your children and grandchildren will remember you for some time. If you are a movie star, sportsperson or some other celebrity the world will remember you for some more years. But eventually, one day, you will fade. From all records and from the memories of everyone. So it's better to spend the time you have doing what you love doing. Do it because you love doing it and not because you may gain public attention because of it one day.

Happiness is to give your life a meaning. It's important that you are important to yourself. Because only then you will learn to distinguish between moments that count and those that do not. It all depends on how you see yourself irrespective of how others see you. What you do must be important to you, even if it is not to someone else. And you must know why it is important.   

Happiness is to find the right balance between discipline and craziness. Random enjoyment, better known as 'doing masti' in hindi or bengali, is indispensable. For you need some time when you just do not want to give all of it any meaning. This is the time when your brain shuts off, rests, waiting to get restarted; and your heart has all the fun it wants to have. Apart from these moments, your life better be disciplined. If it is not, you are trying out too many new things! Or maybe, you have not yet decided how you want to live the rest of your life. Discipline is important as it maximizes the output that you had always wanted from yourself.

Happiness is to find the right people in your life. It's very difficult to live a content life in complete isolation, if not impossible. So you need to choose the right people to be around. Be choosy about people. Because everyone is unique, in a way. You must open up to your closed ones. For they are the ones who know you and can truly point out where you had made a mistake and be honest with you. Never lose anyone who actually knows who you are and what you want in life. Because people such as them are hard to find.

Happiness is to accept who you are. With all your superpowers and pitfalls. Because if you cannot accept who you are it just means that you do not yet know who you are! There is an old saying: "if you truly want something with all your heart it will definitely come to you!" This is always true. If you ever happen to wish for something and yet not get it, review yourself and you will see that you had never actually wished for it dearly enough! Do not compare yourself with others, as it is not their life you are living, and neither are they living yours. And do not cheat yourself. And you can only achieve all of these once you learn one of the greatest gifts of all - to forgive yourself after you had made a mistake.

Happiness is learning something new. And creating something new. I wanted to tell you about 'Maslow's hierarchy of needs' but you can always Google it. Everything changes. And the world around you adapts itself to all the change and accordingly evolves. Creating something new - a new idea or a new piece of art, a new strategy or a new way of looking at something centuries old - gives you a chance of leaving behind a part of you that is going to be there even when you are gone. It is not a rare feeling. It is similar to what people feel while giving birth to the newer generation.

Finally, hapiness is knowing that you are happy. It is a positive feedback cycle. It's like a candle giving light without losing any of its own. There is nothing called 'conservation of happiness' in this world, i.e. your happiness cannot be at the cost of someone else's. If it is then it is your selfishness instead and is definitely not something to be enjoyed and to be proud of. Happiness is a special feeling. And persistent happiness is a very rare feeling.

So, to summarize, what is happiness? Happiness is something that brings a smile. If not to your face, at least to your mind! It makes you content and at peace with yourself. To define it more precisely, it is that after which everyone in this world is running! Incidentally, the feeling of happiness is more rare, sought after and fundamental than any other feeling ever known to mankind!  :-P

Wednesday, July 03, 2013

অসমাপ্ত কবিতা

Wrote a poem after a long time...can't even call it a poem..some words scribbled down as if oozing out of free association.

 কাল রাতে অসংখ্য নক্ষত্র উঠেছিল 
কালো আকাশের বুকে। 
আর সাদা পায়রার মত ভেসে যাওয়া 
মেঘের ফাঁকে দেখা দিয়েছিল 
এক টুকরো চাঁদ।

কখন  অজান্তে, কোন ছায়াপথ ধরে নেমে 
তুমি ছুয়ে গেলে আমায়,
আর আমি না বোঝার অন্ধকারে 
খুঁজে পেলাম হাতড়ে, শুধু  
এক রাশ শূন্যতা।

তাই তুমি রয়ে গেলে এক অসম্পূর্ণ স্বপ্নের মতো,নির্ব্যক্ত।

Sunday, June 30, 2013

The Nihilist

Human personalities are built on beliefs & experiences. When a baby is growing up, he hardly has any experiences. So he relies on the beliefs instilled into him by the people around. But as he gradually experiences life over the years, some of these beliefs get modified, distorted or even utterly removed. He questions them,  criticizes them, bends them to their limits, until he can see the juice inside.

There is a saying, that a beggar cannot be a hermit par se, as he had nothing to leave behind. It requires the strength of leaving behind kingdoms of power, wealth and fame to attain the state of The Buddha. Similarly, it takes a huge strength of mind to leave behind all of these acquired thoughts to be like  a baby, born without any conscience, any belief, any morality. Like a mother, he must bear the tearing agony of giving Birth - of Himself and cut the umbilical chord of his previous self created out of others' thoughts. He must start with Nothingness, then be Full and to learn to let go all of it to embrace Nothingness again : to become The Man of Experience, The Nihilist.

When in fear, when in despair, when in joy, a man requires to cling onto something, a security that assures them a hope of redemption. A person, a god or even a belief. The Nihilists remain utterly alone, in the soul-sucking Black Hole of misery. Drowning in the spiral of his thoughts, the only thing that he can hope for is channelizing it. Creativity is the only thing, that can put a carpet on all the blood of his soul. The excruciating pain comes out of his creations, where the joy of giving birth immerses all his senses and gives a shape to his abstract thoughts. A sculpture where he puts all the truths- uninhibited, uncensored. It is the shape of his soul at that point of space-time.

The Nihilist is utterly confused. His mind fleets over thoughts, conceptions and theories. As no two experience is exactly the same, his theories evolve in every moment of his existence. But he is a human, he has his emotions, and at the same time he denies them, he denies all of them. The confused soul lives a life of two people, burning himself and everybody around. He burns in the fire of his experiences & thoughts. In his world of void, there is to water to pour over his burns, no words that can soothe him, because what he needs is - to experience it through his senses.

But, it is this Hellish Fire that defines him. It is this fire that burns him only to keep control. The mind would implode, as there is nothing within to support the gravity of his Being. Floating on the fine line between void & completeness, the Nihilist draws nectar from both these worlds and keeps the fire raging.

This is the story of a Nihilist.

Monday, April 22, 2013

Monday, March 25, 2013


Trudging along the grey lane
The system stares me down; rough disdain...
I avoid the gaze, go into the center
“Yes Ma’am, I am aware of being on probation
Today I’ll surely try to work hard and fair.”

------------I fail another day
Yet again get the "Mediocre" label
And get out.

This will be another long walk home.

My musings befriend me yet again...
Self-dignity slain
                         Ripped asunder
 What does my role sustain?
 Bounding-off from one blunder to another?

Our well-oiled community surges to perfection...
And yet, units like me stall the scend...
They say,
       Ages ago Bumblers were allowed to thrive too!
Archaic, inefficient!
To think of it-- everyone having the right to Life!
                    Debris breeding all around,
And nothing to weed them out?
No wonder that world collapsed.

Perfection whirls all around me; Supreme society
Each speck has a measurable contribution--
                                        self-worth, self-dignity
The complete community!

But ...what contribution have I?
Using the benefits, yet returning none
Other than denting the society's pride...
A cripple; by Charity am I run...

What right do I have to continue?
To feed off the commune and yet make it lag
A lowly parasite, I prey on my brethren's toil
And all their support goes to naught,
As I fail to deliver yet again...
A miscarried living-unit!
Self-disgust. First Phase.

What to do now, How to atone?
The only tale I have spun
Is of a failing act!
Never won from a gamble,
         Never converted a chance gifted...
Don’t I care? Of course, I do
Why would my diseased presence
   Sully the community’s attainment?
Non-contributing units are liabilities.
Disposable. Self-analysis. Second Phase.

My final chapter should be nobler, I rule
A prouder tint amidst the shamed grayness...
Self-reformation. To be still useful. Desperately.
                     Third Phase.

As I slowly shift into senescence...
I set the expiration machinery in action
Deft removal of a defunct unit.
        Thoughtful deed relaxing the community burden!
Self-effacement. Neatly programmed, skilfully done.
Thus comes the phase of the close.

Sunday, March 17, 2013


Dedicated to Vivek & SFTH; ...finally I wrote something after a long time!

Being roommates with someone is not easy. Often you do not get to meet the person before you start sharing a room. With sharing a room comes sharing personal space. And doing that is difficult with strangers. Knowing someone takes time, and circumstances often do not allow you that much time; in many cases you just assume that the person whom you are sharing a room with is accountable enough to be trusted with basic things. You just assume that your roommate must be as vulnerable and insecure as you are when he comes to know that a stranger will be sharing a room with him. I met Madhav like that. I assumed a lot of things.

I came into the institute as a first year graduate student and was allotted a room in the students’ hostel. Classes were held in the department which was less than a kilometer away. I had my own bicycle. I used to wake up early in the morning and go for my classes. After spending the entire day in the department, burdened under loads of homework and assignments, I used to return to my room only late at night. It was the first time I was living in a hostel. 

Madhav was already living in that room for last one year without any roommate. I came to hear that his previous roommate requested the hostel office for a single room. Getting a single room was not easy in our campus. Not that the administration didn’t grant any but it was mostly the senior students who were preferred. So I didn’t have a choice. And Madhav was in his second year. 

Madhav was not happy to see a roommate when I moved in. He didn’t say anything but his reaction was transparent. I didn’t like him either. He was weird. He had long hair and no one knew how many times a month he used to put shampoo on it. His clothes were far from clean – the reason, as I later figured, was his reluctance to wash them by himself. He would be in the same clothes for days and would visit the laundry only once in two months. He didn’t speak much. Often would ignore me when I tried to talk. And would suddenly start discussing things when he saw me do my assignments; he had two subwoofers plugged into his laptop and I didn’t have the slightest idea how they became active only when I tried to focus on my studies! Because of him I tried not to come to room on an evening before a test. I found the library more comfortable. In a way, that served his purpose too; that would give him enough opportunity to smoke ganja.

I didn’t know about this habit of his at the beginning; he used to do it when I was away. Later I came to know that he had his own group of friends who considered this pastime with passion. I came to room one evening and saw him smoking alongside three of his friends. I didn’t even smoke cigarettes so the smell of weed suffocated me. Madhav welcomed me with a grin, “You came early tonight! Done with
your studies?” “Ya!” I said, still standing at the door thinking whether to enter or to go to the library.
“Hi Gokul!” his friends greeted me, “Want to join us?” “No!” I said. “I don’t like that smell” is what I wanted to add but resisted myself from it. Madhav caught that I was feeling uneasy. He blew a ring of smoke and said, “You see, it’s not good for the mind; it messes things up here”, he pointed at his head, “Particularly not good if you have class in the morning!” “I have a mid-term test tomorrow”, I said. One of Madhav’s friends was clearly embarrassed, he wanted to leave. Madhav calmed him, looked at me and said, “And not at all good if you have a test in the morning!” “I don’t want to smoke!” I said. Madhav grinned impishly and reiterated, “I meant passive smoking is not good if you have a test tomorrow morning!” I had to spend the next three hours in the library that evening before it closed at eleven o clock. Fortunately when I returned that night the episode was over. The light of the room was out. His friends have left. Madhav was asleep.

Smoking weed inside campus was obviously an offense. But some people used to do it, and with enough caution, they succeeded. Nobody complained to the authorities mostly because students who practiced it made sure that it didn’t disturb anyone else. Madhav didn’t have that concern however; not at least with me! Some residents of the hostel told me that he did weed quite regularly and that his earlier roommate had complained against him, so the hostel authorities gave him a separate room. Madhav had got a warning; things became a bit serious and he had to quit weed for weeks. That was one year back.

Sometimes, to know a person, you need to know his habits. I came to know Madhav’s habits, and thus him. But, seldom, it would seem that he didn’t like some of his own habits! At times he would sit and brood quietly in one corner of the room, refusing to talk to anyone. It would then become clear that he had several grievances about his one year stay in campus.

The mid-terms had started and I was somehow managing to cope with the dual pressure of academics and my roommates’ tantrums, when, suddenly, one evening, I saw him packing his bags. I asked if he was going somewhere. He told me that he was going to his home for three days. Madhav was a localite. The news came as a relief because it meant that I could study in my room at nights. And the fact that I won’t be welcomed into the room by that persistent smell of weed for 3 whole nights seemed so enthralling!

However, the happiness didn’t last long. That night, as I fell asleep, I was woken up by a murmur! Somebody was whispering to me in the dark. It took me a while to realize that it was Madhav! “You came back!” I said, surprisingly. “Yes!” he said, “The house was locked. Seems like my dad went somewhere. The surprise visit didn’t pay off!” “Of course!” I thought; “So why did you wake me up?” I asked. “Gokul!” he said, “You were talking in your sleep!”

I was taken aback. I tried to summarize the situation. Madhav goes to his home, comes back, knocks at the door and I wake up and open it for him (none of which I remembered) and then I go to sleep again, and Madhav also goes to his bed; and then, it is me who wakes him up at the middle of the night –doing what! I never spoke in my sleep.

“You are joking or what!” I said. “Joking!” he sat up on his bed, “You were shouting, I couldn’t sleep!” “See, Madhav!” I said, “I have a mid-term exam tomorrow morning! Let me sleep!” “You let me sleep! I am tired” he said, “All this journey to home and back! It’s you who woke us up!”

That claim was preposterous. I didn’t remember a thing. It was obviously not possible to know what really happened. I rather thought Madhav was up to something. His suddenly cancelling his home trip itself gave off something suspicious. “What was I talking about?” I asked him. “Don’t know”, he said, “I could only make out that you were shouting: Baba! Baba! Ok it’s over now. Let me sleep man!”

Baba! Why on earth would I be interested in calling out to my father at the middle of the night? Was I having a dream? I remembered my mother used to tell me that I used to talk and laugh in my sleep when I was a child. I spoke gibberish mostly. Not for long intervals; intermittently. Madhav could be right! But he could be pulling off a prank too! There was no way of knowing. I stayed awake for a long time trying to figure out what the truth was. Eventually I fell asleep.

Next morning I woke up late. I looked at the watch and made out that my class had already started! Fortunately the exam was scheduled after lunch. I hurried.

That night when I came to room Madhav was not there. It was already eleven at night. I had another class-test the next morning. And this time it was in the first period. So I had to get up early. I deliberately kept the door open so that Madhav doesn’t have to knock when he comes. I fell fast asleep.

I was startled to hear someone laughing at the middle of the night! I woke up instantly. It was Madhav again. He was laughing madly and rolling on his bed. It all irritated me to my core. “What is it?” I asked. “Who is Priya?” he asked. He kept on laughing as if someone has given him nitrous oxide. “Who is Priya?” I said, “How do I know? Why do you keep waking me up like this every night! I told you I have my mid-terms running!” “Manh! You should listen to yourself!” he was still laughing, “You were proposing to some girl in your sleep!”

Now that was unbelievable! Not because I couldn’t talk in my sleep – I was not really confident about that – but because I didn’t know any girl by that name! I quickly went through the names of the girls, in my mind, which I had come to know during my two months stay inside campus and none of those matched with Priya! “Dude!” I said in a cold tone, “I do not know anyone called Priya! You were dreaming!” Madhav stopped laughing. He stopped it very suddenly as if he really got serious. “What did you say?” he asked. “It is you who is dreaming that I am talking in my sleep!”, I said, “Could you not do this for the next couple of days please! I have my exams scheduled in the mornings.” “I am dreaming!” he hissed, “You say it is me who is dreaming! I can’t sleep because of you. I also have work in the morning; I also have classes to attend. All these two months it was okay but now as you have your exams going on, don’t know why, you are under a lot of stress. I can see it! It is you who didn’t study! It is you who is conjuring up odd dreams in your head! And not only that, you are waking your roommate up – regularly, at the middle of the night – and on top of all that you are not ready to admit that you talk in your sleep!”

I felt a bit scared. Not that I had doubts in my mind on whether I actually did it. I didn’t! It’s tough to say whether I spoke in my sleep. Not only me, but if anyone is accused today of that kind of a crime, I am sure, they will face tough times answering themselves. No one can ever be sure. And sleep talking is not that rare too. Many people talk in their sleep. Mostly children do. But some adults also do! It’s not like a rare disease or something that I needed to get worried about. It was a common thing. But this time, I was confident that Madhav was lying. I could have said something maybe, but in no way I could have uttered that name Priya! How can I say someone’s name in my sleep if I didn’t know about that name in real life! And that made me feel scared because I was certain Madhav was up to something. Either he was dreaming about all this – in which case too I needed to get worried because he was waking me up every night, mostly when I had my exams in the mornings – or he was deliberately trying to mess things up in my head before my exams. But why would he do that?

“I have never known anyone called Priya!” I told him, “Why are you doing all this?” “You are crazy or what!” he shouted, “Why will I do all this by myself? Unless I really wanted to get rid of you; and for that, now I think, I have to go to the hostel office and lodge a complaint against you!” His intentions were becoming clear. So that was what Madhav wanted! He already had his previous roommate complaining about him; and from what I could read, he never liked roommates! So now if he could make up some story about my sleep-talking, maybe, the hostel administration would give him a single room! In a way, that was also what I wanted, to get rid of him; but through this way the administration won’t come to know about the truth: that it was me who was going through all the pain of sharing a room with Madhav. I had to do something!

“I don’t believe you!” I said. “What!” he sounded bewildered. It was the middle of the night and the lights were out. Whatever I could see of him was a shadow. And all this time that shadow was lying on his bed. This time it sat up. “Tomorrow night I will take a video with my mobile phone!” the shadow hissed, “And I will show it to you! And then, I will go and complain against you!” “Do it!” I said, “And please, I have a request, do not wake me up at the middle of the night to show the video! I will rather see it the next morning. Not that I believe you will actually have something authentic to show me!” “We’ll see!” Madhav murmured, “We’ll see!”

Next morning I woke up well past the time of the exam. That was the first exam I missed. I ran to the class. The professor didn’t allow me to enter. He said he will talk to me later. I didn’t have all this planned! I made up my mind that tomorrow morning I will go to the hostel office and complain about Madhav’s late night tantrums, and of course about his smoking habits. I was just waiting to see what video he gets! 

That night I came back early. And as always I didn’t see Madhav there! Three days in a row! Why is he regularly coming so late at night? Mostly he used to be in room from evening itself, smoking pot. Maybe I was right! He was really up to something; deliberately doing it to disturb my peace of mind. Anyway! I didn’t think much about it. I went to sleep. Fortunately I didn’t have any exam next morning.

Very oddly indeed no one woke me up that night. I woke up very early next morning. I presumed it was around six o clock! I woke up and smelled weed. My eyes searched around the room till they eventually found Madhav. He was smoking in the room early in the morning! I wanted to ask him to stop but somehow my tongue got stuck. I couldn’t speak! My head felt heavy. I felt drugged. Madhav looked at me. He was looking like an animal. “I was having a light fun with you!” he said, “But I never knew you had such dangerous plans ahead.” I couldn’t understand a word he was saying. I tried so hard to talk but I could not. “Not that I was lying about your sleep talking episodes” he said, drawing a chair near to my bed and sitting down on it, “But I never thought of really going and complaining to the administration!” He took a puff and blew a ring of smoke at my face. “I underestimated you, you are dangerous!” he said, “You know what could happen to me if you go to the administration complaining about my smoking habits! They may throw me out of the institute! I will be finished!” He was smoking too close to me. I felt very uneasy. I wanted to get up and leave the room but, surprisingly, I couldn’t. My body seemed stuck to my bed with glue and I couldn’t even move a finger. I was so sure Madhav had drugged me! 

“This is what you said last night!” he took his phone out and brought its screen near my eyes. I couldn’t turn my head. I was paralyzed! He played a video. It was dark and I could hear two voices. I couldn’t see anything, no one could see and make anything out of that video; it was pitch black! One of the voices was Madhav’s. He was the one who was talking less. I heard another voice and I was confident it was not mine. That voice was murmuring something regarding lodging a complaint for smoking weed. It was unclear, discrete and intermittent. I wanted to tell him that it was not mine and in no way he could prove that it was mine! 

The room was filling up with smoke. I could see the door being slightly open; it was not locked. The windows were closed. My eyes and lungs started to burn. It was a horrible feeling! To get stuck to your bed early in the morning by some magical force, mutely watching your environment turn hostile. I wondered how he could have drugged me while I was asleep! I didn’t know if he practiced other kinds of drugs but I heard there were people who would inject drugs through a syringe! I didn’t know if Madhav had injected me with something. Or did he really? What was it? Could it paralyze a human body? How long will it have its effect? Will I be paralyzed all my life? Was it toxic? Was he trying to kill me? I could make out that somehow he knew about my plans of complaining to the administration. But would he really try to kill me for that? Or was he in his senses after all? Aren’t people supposed to do all sorts of crazy things under the effect of drugs?  

Madhav smoked weed by taking the ingredients in a paper refill. It looked like a cigarette. Now he put it in my mouth. “Smoke!” he said, “Smoke and tell me how is it.” I couldn’t move my lips. It was horribly bitter. I wanted to cough but somehow my body didn’t even allow me to do that! “How can people pass remarks about something that they haven’t tried themselves!” Madhav was clearly resentful, “You smoke and then go to the administration to lodge your complaint. I have had enough of you.” I was chocking. And I felt so much out of breadth that I was certain that my lungs would collapse.

I don’t remember how long it went like that but eventually I could really move! I could cough out loudly and move my head around the room and could see all its corners. I was not paralyzed anymore! And I saw the windows open. And I saw Madhav, sitting patiently on that chair, most probably waiting for me to wake up. He looked different: slightly decent. I presumed two hours had passed. 

“I’ll kill you!” I told him. They were the first words I could utter after a long time. I was sweating heavily. “What!” Madhav said, “Why?” I could see Madhav in nice clothes and it looked as if he had shampooed his hair after a long time. He sat in that chair looking questioningly at me. The room didn’t smell of weed anymore. The fan was rotating wildly above my head. I looked at the watch, it was ten!

“Why do you want to kill me?” he asked, “Are you all right?” “Why were you smoking in the room early this morning?” I sat up on my bed. “Who? Me!” Madhav looked stunned, “I just returned from my home. Whom are you talking about?”

I saw a bag with him, the same one he had left with three days back. I wondered why I didn’t see it in the room all these days! My head felt very heavy. My limbs felt weak. It was as if I was recovering from some fever. “I came in around 8 o clock in the morning”, Madhav said, “I wondered why you kept the door ajar! I saw you sleeping, with that blanket on you, and I found you moaning in sleep. It was as if someone was chocking you. I thought you were having a nightmare or something!” “What are you talking about?” I couldn’t believe what he was saying. But he did look like a different Madhav! “I thought of waking you up”, he said, “But you didn’t wake up! You were in deep sleep. Your eyes were half-open. And you were making funny sounds. It was a frightful sight!” 

It took me a while to float back to reality. I didn’t tell Madhav anything of what I thought happened. It was not necessary for him to know. I made out that Madhav was not here for the last three days. Some of our neighbors, in adjacent rooms, told me that they have heard me talk at nights. The door was always open! Some of them tried to peep in to see whom I talked to but they said they didn’t see anybody and further they couldn’t make out what was I saying. “It was all gibberish”, one of them said later, “Don’t worry! It’s not a terrible disease! It’s called somniloquy. Google it!” I tried my best not to let Madhav know anything. He asked me a lot of questions and would often make fun of me. But he couldn’t find out regarding that hostel-office complaint thing that I planned in my dream. I never complained against him.

Later that day, back in the department, I googled sleep-talking. I found something called ‘sleep paralysis’ as well. They also had some videos on it in Youtube. I wonder if that was what I experienced that morning when I tried to move but couldn’t. The websites talked about thousands of people having evil hallucinations during sleep paralysis. I didn’t know if I used to have such seizures when I was a child, my mother never told me about them! She only mentioned about the somniloquy part. My head felt light after a long time. Everything started to make sense as I searched for an explanation. It was as if I was waking up from a nightmare.

Being roommates with someone is not easy. Sometimes, it’s only after you had taken an initial step towards understanding your roommate you come to know something unique about him. Something that matters, and, in a way, affects you too! That Madhav smoked weed with his friends sometimes in the room affected me. I compromised by escaping to the library. That I had these somniloquy and sleep paralyses episodes frustrated Madhav. It was not as frequent as his smoking trysts; I experienced it much less when the mid-terms got over. Sleep paralyses would happen to me about once a month; the sleep talking was slightly more frequent. But I got a feeling of what it was like in the real world, when he really heard me blabbering in sleep and saw me having seizures. He didn’t wake me up, and also didn’t really care to take a video. He also never complained against me. He found a way out. He used to put his earplugs before going to sleep; it became a habit for him.

Friday, March 16, 2007


Dedicated to: ..shuvro; who never read my posts!! :(

"I wonder whether he sat down on his knees.."
"Oh yes! He did", Jiah chuckled, "He was always like that. You wouldn't believe it, ..there were so many people at the Railway Station that day; ..and they all looked at us! It was so embarrasing!"
"What happenned next?"
"Oh nothing! I told him to be a proper fellow instead and to get me a ticket, my train was getting late." She paused. "And then I told him to cross the main roads properly while he would get back home, ..he was in a daze,'ll never believe it, all his chivalry vanished", Jiah chuckled again, "He nodded like a child!"

"And did you never feel bad about turning him down?"

Jiah blew a ring of smoke. "I never turned him down. I asked him to get back home properly. I never say a 'no'. It hurts people." She paused again. "And now I wonder, whether he at all knew that I smoked", she smiled, "But I remember having cried that night."

"You and your silly questions", she said, almost in a scolding tone, "Imagine what he would have gone through!"
"You didn't love him Jiah, did you?"
"Not at all! But how could that stop me from being a human and feeling for another? ..I never saw him again. Hope he is all right."

That was Jiah.
We had met two years ago. She had mailed me once regarding a few paragraphs of one of my short stories that had got published in a daily. And since then, she have gradually grown into a very close friend of me and my wife.
She was always there to help you out of an emotional trouble, to offer you a support whenever you needed it. ..To listen to your problems.

But she was terribly messy with her personal life. She lived alone. But almost always was attending to a thousand peoples' problems. She knew when the milkman's son would be needing money to buy his school books, she knew which girl had had a break up and how the situation could be handled, she even knew when the neighbours' cat was expecting.

My wife would laugh at the fact whenever I told her that Jiah needed to improve her lifestyle.
"Why don't you men leave us as we are?", she would laugh and remark, "You'll never understand why we are the persons we are!"
She'ld always validate Jiah's point.

Who were men to understand women?
Even trying to solve Goldbach's conjecture was easier..

Maybe, women like Jiah had no anchor in their lives, ..they floated on! It was as if they preffered remaining unhooked by a commitment.

"Why don't you marry?", I'ld ask her.
"Marry whom? You?", she'ld casually remark with a wink.
"Well, ..there are so many men waiting out there for you!"
"They need a wife", she would reply, "Not me!"

"Don't you feel lonely?", I would ask.
"Oh, you see, I've so many things to do", she would jumble up her words.
And then she would suddenly grow silent and would cry...

During her solitary hours, she would sit down and dream. Her eyes would be carrying a vague, distant expression, ..signifying as if they looked at a place far from the cries of this ailing world.
She painted beautifully.
And I'd also seen her write short lyrical poems of one or two lines, in her personal diary, ..which she never showed to anybody.

When I had once asked her whether she had ever fallen in love, she looked at me and smiled.
"Well, I would have told a lie straightaway, ..but as this is you who's asking me, I'ld preffer to remain silent."

And that was Jiah.

She even slept with men.
People who knew this, called her a prostitute. But she always shrugged her shoulders. It was as if, somehow, she knew what she was doing and why!

You just had to go and ask her. You just had to tell her that you needed her for a night; ..that you needed a companion to cry to and to share your pains with.
First she would hit you back. Next she would avoid. Then she would try her best to make you understand and see reason. And finally, when you've got her convinced, she had no way out.

"I don't think you do this for personal pleasure?", I would ask.
"Oh yes. Absolutely. How can you stand seeing a person in pain? And that too because of yourself?
I am happy. And I am happy about the fact that I make others happy.
There's no rulebook to follow when you live your life, is there any?", she would sarcastically remark.

And thus she moulded herself to minimize a thousand peoples' pains; ..she gave away her lunch to a beggar, ..she carried grandma's basket to her doorstep, ..she managed to refuse a hundred marriage proposals with a sweet smile and without saying a 'no', ..she gave away her body to a hundred alcoholic men...

And thus, she was nobody.
A non-existent entity, ..lacking any defined shape; the spontaneous flow of Life, lacking any perticular direction.

But she was also the ocean to which all the rivers in this world emptied themselves; waters. That sucked you in and drowned you if you dared to fathom its depth.

I had slept with her, too, once!
I was heavily drunk. And was perticularly tense owing to a personal problem. My wife was out of station. And I went to her apartment to speak out my pains, ..I needed somebody who would simply listen to me.
And I never knew when I had broken down crying.
And she took me in.
I cried. At her lap.
She nursed me, all night. Without even asking what had happenned. As if, at her depths, she knew exactly what was disturbing me. And make no mistake, I saw tears in her eyes too. She was just pained to see a human being crying so helplessly!
And I never knew when I'd got physical!

The next morning, when I apologised heavily, ..she smiled and cut down my embarrasement by saying that it was all a dream that I had dreamt.

That evening, she visited my house to dine with us. She chatted the whole evening with my wife in the kitchen. And completely ignored me, due to some odd reason.
"See!", my wife would jokingly remark, when I would try and talk to Jiah, -- and she would grow irritated at that, -- "How you men disturbed us when we would care to spend time together!"
"Absolutely!", Jiah would chuckle, "All of them are so disturbing", ..without even caring to look at me!

And when I would grow frustrated at her floaty lifestyle, as she was one of my closest pals for whom I cared so much, she would cuttingly reply, "Stop penetrating at my private affairs. That hurts." And her eyes would suddenly moisten up, and she would grow all quiet.

And then suddenly, after a brief pause, she would laugh and say something like, "Actually, to tell you the truth, ..I am quite callous and brittle; ..and I am confused and indecisive too; most of the cases I don't know what to do! And think about those good men whom I have brutally refused all my life...", she would gurgle up laughing..
...But never did I fail to see a shimmering teardrop, at a corner of her eye, when she ever did laugh out like that!

And thus, the list of her negatives went endless...
She knew each of them.

And what would strike me was whether this simple and apparently brittle girl knew her positives!

..that she was a perfect friend, a fantastic listener, a great nurse; ..a girl who was so blessed with such deep understanding of the human nature and its pitfalls...
..somebody whom everyone around her loved; ..a woman whom some of the most dissatisfied men in this world hated!

..the Giver,
..of Satisfaction and Happiness to a thousand Seekers,

..that she was Venus,
..the Eternal Symbol of Love, Beauty and Wisdom,

..of Tolerance and compassion;

..of The Feminine;

..that she was the eternal symbol of The Mystery.

Thursday, March 15, 2007

Memories last forever

In this journey of life meet with so many people...some stay with you forever ...some you leave behind...some disappears suddenly......but all these people make you truly what you are.But as they say memories last forever......

When I was a kid, I had for company all the books I could possibly read superheroes....And oneday I met with this skinny girl .....she had boy's cut hair with specs ..and looked just like me...scared...She was our neighbour sort of...her maternal Grandma lived besides our apartment.Though she was 1year junior to me ,we stuck up this unusual friendship....we both of the same kind chose to visit each other's Neverland together.

I still remember they had this huge mango tree in their garden and we used to climb up that tree to show heroism to others.Everyday we used to play together.....and eventually our mothers had to literally drag us back to home....

The best thing we liked in our make a believe plays was that of Dark room- it was this abbreviated version of Haunted houses.And this was somewhere we would be best at.All we used to do act as if it was this stormy night and we two,along with her baby brother went to take shelter in a house,which would eventually turn up into a haunted house....We would be sleeping and then there would be disturbances...Ghosts would chase of us (usually the baby brother would be the bali ka bakhra) would come under the spell of spirits and turn one of them...and we bravehearts would finally save him and us.This paly was so realistic that one night while playing this we really thought that there was someone in the room!!

We would be culturally inclined too and we had arranged successfully twice a Rabindrajayanti programme in our respective home.We did two plays of "Hassya koutuk"of Rabi Thakur "Chatrer pariksha " and the other's name I've forgotten but it was about stealing of eggs.we even made two little boys dance to rabindrasangeet(it wasn't Rabindra nrittya by any chance)

So we had this beautiful childhood together but somehow after I passed out from school I lost touch with her.All I knew about her that she was studying in Shikshayatan college.But a few days back,a local friend of mine told me that my first friend's life has been destroyed by a motor accident in Bangalore...she went there for reviving her life's aspirations...but it was shattered by a man made machine......she's no more now..................all that remains is the ugliness of her death...the opain ,the tears and some memories..................I wish like we played in the Darkroom game,I knew some magic to shatter the spell that has separated her from our world......

Her name was Dorothy Bhattacharya ,my first ever friend ,forever and eternity........................

Coffee talk

A group of alumni,highly established in their careers,got together to visit their old University Professor.

The conversation soon turned into complaints about stress in work and life........
Offering his guests coffee,the professor went to the kitchen and returned with a large pot of coffee and an assortment of cups-porcelain,plastic,glass,crystal,some plain looking,some expensive,some exquisite -telling them to help themselves to hot coffee.

When all the students had a cup of coffe in their hand ,the professor said:"If you noticed ,all the nice looking ,expensive cups were taken up ,leaving behind the plain and cheap ones.It is but normal for you to want only the best for yourselves,that is the source of your problems and stress.What all you really wanted was the coffeee,not the cup,but you consciously went for the best cupsand were eying each other's cups.

Now if life is coffeeand the jobs,money and position in society are the cups.They are just tools to hold life ,but the quality of life doesn't change.Sometimes,by concentrating only on the cup ,we fail to enjoy the coffee in it.So don't let the cups drive you.....enjoy the coffee instead....."