Hey guys! Today, i really feel like sharing something with you all. I am an introvert and sometimes I even have difficulty interacting with people😅 On the contrary, I love to talk.I love my alone time as well, but not always. I just penned down what I felt and I hope u can connect to these lines.

Have you ever felt lonely? Not physically, but emotionally?

I have, because, for me solitude is not a physical state but an emotional one. Even among tons of people laughing away, i find myself engulfed in dark,dark excruciating silence of solitude. I feel a tremendous urge to let fall the tears which had already come to the verge. Suddenly, i want to vanish, my existence crumbled to dust, a part of the never ending process of degradation. I put out my hand, longing, with the innocent beating of my young heart that someone will hold it. Someone will want me to reappear and tell me it’s okay. I long for a person who will unveil the sheet of isolation, drag me out of this invisibility.

Do I really not exist?

They ignore me as if I don’t and I dive deeper and deeper to reach the unfathomable depths of solitude. It has intoxicated me with freedom. Now, i am addicted to loneliness. I embrace this isolation and live through it. Solitude doesn’t scare me now. I have learnt to love the darkness, the silence of non-existence. The freedom of unpretentious action fills me with bliss. I have learnt to support my own head on my shoulder and not cry for my empty hand. I have learnt to breathe normally for I am living. Ain’t I?

Yes, I am alive for this faint streak of hope in my heart peeps through the bullet holes. I hope for the end of my solitary confinement inside my own skin. I long to set free. But ,i don’t want to die. No.
I must live. I must embrace the nature for it is generous. I must travel the world and find my true happiness in the winding streets, bustling markets and overwhelming wonders of the world.
No, i don’t feel morbid. I feel exhausted of the chains around my ankles tied with people who never even ask me how I am doing.
I want to go out into the world. Someone would join me for sure. Someone, in this whole wide universe would care for me, be by my side in this journey of self exploration, someone who would never leave!

Thank you for being a part of this. 😊

Wrapped in white

T’was the first time I saw her,
She was wrapped in white.
Her demeanour tranquil and serene
As she radiated divine light
An expression of deep nothingness
Was imprinted on her face,
The jet black cascade rested at her waist.
Yes, she is a widow,
A widow of her dead dreams.
Flaunting the love of her husband
that never really existed.
I wonder what lay,
Beyond those covers;
A heart so pure or
Cold as stone?
The eyes so deep, they conceal
A treasure within, that still sparkles
Her gaze sears into my soul
Tears me apart
As my heart burns for what’s forbidden.
I put out my empty hand
That remains empty forever
Love it is, even if unrequited
Will be cherished by me forever.


A quick investigation of the secret drawer behind the old, unstable mahogany desk revealed four bundles of scented envelopes. Surprisingly they still smelled as if new yet their shaggy condition nd barely recognisable pink colour told just the opposite. I took them out. Although it was against my principles to look into the private drawer of my dead wife but I could not help my curiosity.

Through the 10 years that I have been in a marital union with her i was in a constant search of a valid answer to one question; why she didn’t love me.

She never said she didn’t but then again she never said she did. Well an obvious justification would be because she was dumb. But,she could speak. Well her mouth couldn’t, but her eyes?They did speak a lot.

I was horrified when I opened them. They were all written by her. To me. Regularly she wrote all the things she wanted to tell me but couldn’t. She wrote what the washerman told her; what she saw one evening looking out of the window of her room; how happy she was hearing about the profit i was making; and how much she loved me.

I read it all.
All of a sudden, a realisation dawned in me. I felt sick. I sipped the water from the nearby glass of water.

I never loved her. I didn’t even know her. I didn’t know her favourite colour, the books she used to read, the way she smiled, the way she looked while asleep.It was true. I hardly lived with her. My workplace had become my home and I was satisfied to a fault with my assistant. A tear trickled down my cheek. Guilt enveloped my heart as I felt suffocated in the large airy room of my bungalow.I didn’t read her eyes. I was incapable of her love. I was the prisoner of my actions. And I felt my hands tied by fate. She died without even knowing how much I loved her.

My precious star

Hey guys! With a few hours left for the new year to unfold, and a bucket full of joy in my heart, i declare my first collaboration with a very good friend of mine and a fellow blogger, Preetam. He is a very efficient writer. Do visit his blog and support him.

I hope u enjoy our poem.

Somewhere there are stars,
Even when out of sight
Concealed by sunlight
I know they are there
Glittering up the sky.

Up, above in the azure,
Light years away,
They illuminate the heavens,
As you do to my life.
I look up at the sky,
To see you among them,
I search among constellations,
Only to find your name.
I behold the moon,
Just to see your smile.
The moon is your accomplice,
You gleam in the dark,
Guarded by the stars.
And my heartbeat wins the race
When I fail to gaze.
But when I’m lonely,
When my sky is all cloudy,
The world is dull,
My heart cheers me up.
Somewhere there is my star
Looking down to see,
Shining hard just for me.

I believe

I believe you are the one,
Who can kindle my heart
And soothe in down
Just like that.

You are the one;
The oasis to my barren life,
Rain to my parched soul,
Silver lining to my darkest clouds.

I wonder now,
As my belief fades,
We could have been infinite.

Amidst the faded transient lives,
We could scintillate,
We could be immortal
Walking hand in hand
Towards the great unknown.

Yet my heart declares it’s faith
We shall meet again
On another day,
In another life

When the sunlight would colour the leaves yellow,
Sparrows flying about would utter sounds so mellow,
The moonlight sprinkling its dust would glitter the trees
The lyrical river
Cascading by would flow into us
Making us fertile
Return our hearts lost ages ago in the circumstances.

Can we rewrite our story,
Using a pen of different ink?
Can we cross our stars,
Reverse the universe, retelling our fates?

I believe there would surely appear,
A spectrum
So vivacious
That would unite us
Make us one.

But until then,

Let us stay incomplete and remain impossible
I embrace the solitude
Boast my bereavement
Drench my soul with bloody tears
For i must be faithful,
Faithful to pain.

The winner

Who’s there?
A man, in his late 50s shows up in tattered clothes and with a smile showing his betel eaten and rotten teeth.
I am the gardener of the neighbouring house. Wanted to see if u needed any help with the plants here. They seem all dead, don’t they? He sniggers. My brother starts to breathe heavily, his whole body shivering, muscles tensing.He seems to be in a trance. Horror and anxiety are delineatly shown in his face. Surprisingly enough i feel pangs of anxiety pulsating through my body.
That’s very kind of you. But we are selling this house..
– No.. we aren’t. I won’t. No.. no i won’t. Akash listen to me. Otherwise we will be dead.
I turn to face my brother.
What are u saying? The money?
It is almost ludicrous.
Listen to what i say. He screams. He seems to be sick and i don’t want to make him more. We have other important things to take care of. I turn around and see that the gardener is gone. I don’t understand how he vanished into thin air.
The silence seems dangerous. A distant sound of water droplets trickling down can be heard. It feels nearly ominous. It was 2 in the afternoon, yet strangely, the house seems surrounded by shadows. Understanding that the house may have some kind of effect on my brother, i hurriedly come down the house, my brother clutching my shirt while taking every step carefully and looking back now and then. He may have seen a nightmare but I am spurious. At this point of time it is important to go to the hospital. Just when I am standing at the front of the main gate, already locked, i get a call from my wife.
I can very well understand that she is crying as she speaks between sobs.
Akash.. mother .. is dead. She died just when she was hit by .. she started crying.
I feel as if the world has ended. The phone almost slips from my hand as tears trickle down my eyes. I look at my brother who doesn’t seem to gauge the situation. I give him the phone and turn around towards the house in deep agony.
This house was her pride and her love. She used to hold on to this house and take care of everything from maintainance of the house to the members of the same, just like a typical bengali wife. She had been taught always to protect her family and preserving the house was symbolic to her. It was the last remnant of my father’s existense.The thought of breaking this house has been too much for her to take.

My brother is crying now. We hire a cab to take us to the hospital. Watching the house from the cab window,I feel a weird sense that the house won the battle. I will never know what happened in the house that made my materialistic brother to change his mind but as a matter of fact, i am particularly not so sad at this sudden change of track. I am not sad to loose to the multitude of souvenirs from the past. I love this house too. I love the winding passages and staircase, the typical smell of the memories that echo from the past through each room and every wall which in turn have their own separate stories to recite.
As the cab moves forward,i look up at the terrace to see a white saree blowing with the wind, peaceful and serene and wonder who won against us!