Where we meet…

He always felt inspired by the those lines, those mere four lines that would always bring a smile to his face. 
But he didn’t understand them properly. Nor did he know their original meaning. But who cares, the best inspiration are generated by the brain and mixed with the blood. Then it the duty of the heart to propagate them to different body parts and in turn to different minds, to different people, to different groups and communities.

He had read them first in Khaled Hosseini’s novel “And the mountains echoed”. 

  “Out beyond the ideas

     Of wrongdoings and rightdoings,

      there is field. 

       I’ll meet you there.”

                      —JELALUDDIN RUMI, 13th                                                                century   

 So that day when he knew he had but only a few speak to he found himself very much confused. He could have drained out his anguish which has been stored and increased over the years. He could crack a sarcastic joke to show how smart he was. He could do many things. Actually he had always longed for that moment when he could really give her a piece of his mind for betraying him, for breaking his heart into pieces and never looking back with an eye of apology. Today was his chance.

There were only two people; the girl and the boy (he). No one else to judge his language or to tell him right or wrong.

He decided to say those four lines. At his last talk with her all he wanted to do was somehow inspire her…


The Guilt inside


The very next moment he could not feel his body as his heart got overwhelmed with a nefarious joy of exploitation, his eyes were shrouded by intense list and his ears deafened by a strange tyranny.

Then some realizations – his eyes would bleed, ears would disagree to withstand the blame and his soul would be scared to face the guilt filled inside his body.

He had taken drugs for the first time.

With an aching head he would hallucinate a strange light, then a face, a familiar face with teary eyes, probably his conscience, running away from him.

He wondered is this was a jargon,  from his soul, unknown to him…

The thought of the night


So many people. Big chariots. Unlimited enthusiasm. Long processions. Friends and relatives. Then finally a good bye and alone I stood thinking of the day and watching the gloomy night that stood solemnly in front of me.

The night overwhelmed my heart with some old stagnant emotions. Lusty illusions seemed to bathe in glow of the street lamp that peeped at our balcony. 

Love, lust, anger, loneliness and melancholy started draining inside me. I closed my eyes. It felt as though in a world filled with paradoxes and illusions ; the only reality best known to me is my own existence…



Somewhere near the horizon, does sky get low and is relieved to see the ground approaching it…

Somewhere is lone  wayfare relieved to see that the moon, shrouded by clouds, is peeping at him at irregular intervals..

Somewhere are the dry  thirsty leaves relieved by early hydrating touches of the rain…

Somewhere is the seeker relieved to see desire and destiny walking hand in hand…

Somewhere are these tireless eyes ,that have ran endless miles in the search of beauty, relieved to know that true is what lies inside ,that is what can only be felt and not seen…

Somewhere will I be happy to learn that success and salvation have bonded into a single stream of this human race…

Moving around these peopleĀ 


I thrive among men who are always dying to get me and yet I strongly feel their efforts are not. Bored from all these men and theirs activities to get me I sometimes get exhausted. I had began disliking the people when one day my eyes met him. 

He was standing on the boundary of the field waiting for his chance , the time when his coach would give him an opportunity. He was not given any chance at all. So from next day he wouldn’t come to coaching. 

I thought he had given up but my misunderstanding was cleared when I saw him that day at the field. He was the striker and I gazed as he dribbled the ball away from his opponents and scored goals. People would still call him weak and that his legs weren’t strong enough be a striker but he had proven them wrong. They know it better than he knows. 

Suddenly I realised that I have been gazing at him for a long time. I hope he didn’t notice. The next moment he looking at me. May be I am caught. He smiled at me as though saying ” better luck next time” and went away. 

I confess. I am intrigued by him. He is different from the others who strife ( in inappropriate ways ofcourse) day in and day out to win me. Turns out he has won me unkowningly. Yet a victory is a victory and I admit my defeat. Feels good to know that more people like him exist.

Now you must be wonder who I am. People pray for  hours so that I might get in their lives. Different people call me by different names. The English call me “PARAGON “…

Not so dark after all!!


A turbulent thunder storm had washed away the electricity of the whole city. I was sitting on a chair on my balcony. At times sparks of lightening would glisten an electric purple hue over the face of the firmament. Occasionally Euros would come and a gently kiss the trees and the leaves would rejoice and sawy to and fro. Often I would see two or more vehicles whose headlights would bleed through the dark that seemed to have precipated all around. May be it wasn’t so dark after all!

I remember  a few years back or may be less, a few months back or maybe still less….lets be honest….a few days back such power cuts would agitate me like anything. But now the scenario is quite different.

We say light is essential to make anything blossom. But wait! May be my mind has just blossomed such that I could see light in the dark….such that I could admire the dark like I admire the light…

May be flowers or rather minds, still better to say HEARTS can blossom in the dark too…

The Call Of The Past

via Daily Prompt: Revelation 

It was so absolutely unexpected that when it really began all of us thought it to be a rumor. It was when a few were called and questioned alone, we realized the weight of the situation. Even then it seemed insane to start inspection about certain things we had done in the past. In a nutshell it was a call from the past, and the worst part is no one had the option of rejecting it. Well let me clarify the events and the chain of consequences that followed us.

A few boys took drugs. Others who didn’t kept quite and did not protest.The inspection began after 3 months. All the boys got black listed. Few were terribly punished. Rest were left with a warning. This whole procedure went on for a month. What we experienced was terrible tension and misery. Lastly it ended.

However when I came to look back at it all I couldn’t help but wonder about how it really began. I also wondered about alternate realities where no one went into drugs at the first place or the alternate realities where the inspection never began and etc. If they really exist I would be glad to see them and more glad to see how they end up!

Well the universe we live in has a mechanism and the most accurate one word explanation  of this mechanism is “PARADOX”.  We all can chose any path we desire but that is where the game becomes interesting – we are not free from the consequence of our choice. The past catches up and strikes and revelations bleed out from those wounds!


Shattered Imaginations

via Daily Prompt: Imaginary

It was probably an year ago when my mother , my aunt and I went to Bangalore to visit my sister who is settled there. Our train journey from Durgapur to Bangalore was for an “imaginary one”. Now I dont really mean that the whole journey was my imagination; what I mean is all the time during those three days we spent in the train all I did was “Thinking”. I sat on a window seat and gazed at the ever changing scenery outside and thought and thought and thought. At times all this was accompanied by some English songs. I plugged headphones and in the next moment I was not there inside the train. I would  probably be  in my own imagination…somewhere running beyond those endless rice and sugar cane fields that seemed to open their arms and welcome…or probably I would be somewhere near those rocky hills that stood stubbornly beside the railway line. At times I imagined myself to be among those little kids who were busy climbing coconut trees and probably I would be waving at the moving training like they did. 

The nights would be quite different. All  passengers inside the train would be fast asleep and I would be peeping outside the window like a little ghost. Outside the fields , the huts , the plantations , all seemed sleeping in utter darkness. At occasions I would see distant lights from some hut or settlement. At times I dozed of and saw strange things and then suddenly get back to my senses. The next moment I would be arguing to myself if what I saw was a small dream or my imagination or the reality.

These shattered imagination still haunt my head but I like them. At time when I really feel unpleasant about the world I live in ; I close my eyes and implant my head in the pillow and then “skAdooSh”. I step inside my imagination…a world made up of fragmented memories and who knows may the world that I will see in the unforeseen future….may be the world where I would really belong.