Travelling thoughts #56

A space shuttle lost , and galaxy upon galaxy died upon its lens. But when it sailed through her darkness , it came across the only glow that worth transmitting….


If you want to know who your friends are, get yourself a jail sentence.

Notes of a Dirty Old Man - Charles Bukowski

(via greygoosebump)

Prayer’s end

Several years from now, when we will be older with sagging skin and thrombosised heart, when our sullen conciousness would refuse to rummage in the time we would be living in, just like our fabricated false teeth would refuse to take a bite on branded snacks in fear of another coronary attack, we would sit still and look back..
Look back to a time we huddled together, and faught against metaphorical giants with a physical form of multinational corporations! We fought well and we fought hard.. But the battle lashed us with skin deep scars… We were on our knees .. Unarmed, fatigued, deprived resourced, faint, scarce and the force that was supposed to bring us salvation, stabbed us on our back. Sliced our dreams!! Strangled our thoughts! Massacred a manslaughter of our hopes and spirit!! Our battle had glory, but in our loss, we stand anonymous, unknown, neglected, forgotten.

But we would still look back to the disastrous time and smile… Our scars would carry the legacy of our pain and no bard would sing the epic of our strained hardship. But we would run our fingers through the scars and feel all blessed and delighted!! Not because the unforgiving blitz of elderliness had us gone senile. Not because hardship of the drudgerical disgrace called life had driven us insane… But because we take pride on the fact that even though the fallacy had rendered us deprived, it had achieved one miracle that enchanted our whole life!! Its the battle ground that rewarded us with star crossed companionship. Its there where we embraced the privilege of knowing each other. Fighting side by side. Losing together! It had since been the most serene bliss we have ever encountered amidst our life. Amen….

A mail that I never sent

I was at the edge of  my sixteen months  relationship when I met you.  I had changed my job. shifted from Kolkata to Bangalore. I had started my career only seven months earlier and it was not getting easier as the day passed. Every day was more hectic than the other . continuous pressure of meeting deadline in a pipeline that was entirely new to me was taking its toll. I was slowly being smothered. Losing interest in the work that I fought so much with my parents to get a chance to do. Distance with my girlfriend had  increased to its limit. Asking her how  her day had been in the dead of the night after I get back from work  was not particularly helping either of us. Office had a draconian no cell phone and nine O’clock attendance policy that rendered me helpless.  I tried, but could not keep the thin crack between us from developing. It was only a matter of time , I knew, that I was going to get the text saying that she was not particularly good at maintaining long distant relationship. I knew fault was not hers, but mine. Loss too.  

It was exactly one week since she decided to part our ways. I was returning from office to my PG Hostel in commuter Volvo bus. Bangalore is quite notorious for its sudden weather fluctuations around the monsoons. But last week had gone quite dry. I was not really in love with my girlfriend. but she had always been there whenever I wanted to turn to someone to talk to. I have never been good at making friends. I don’t hold hands well. An easy  friend was all I needed. She understood this. She had became some sort of emotional dependency to me. People expect more from a relationship. I did not nurture any expectation other than a compassionate friendship. The three magic words seemed mechanical whenever I uttered them at the end of a phone call. She needed to move on. I understood this. Standing at the opposite side of the gate pressed against the glass panel in the crowded bus I kept looking through the window to the sliding  landscape and rushing vehicles, fuming a toxic amalgam of particulated dust and fuel exhaust into the air. I felt a soul crunching necessity for the rain. I never felt so stupid ever in my life.  Nobody noticed I hope. 

Moments later, the bus came to an abrupt halt, and something fell on my feet. a chrome bezel spectacle case. I picked it up and looked at you. You said you were sorry. you said it’s so crowded…  you were all jumbled up inside your side bag,   taking out change to pay the fare. then you took the case from my hand and thanked me. I smiled and looked back into the moving landscape again. it felt less harsh now.   

It’s not that I had not seen you earlier.  your office was just on the opposite block from mine.  we have sometimes walk past each other on our way to food bay at the lunch time or at the ATM counter in the evening. But I had not really paid attention.  I never  favored  the idea of looking up to pretty girls. And you were not conventionally pretty anyway. 

Next day was Thursday.  Kunal Ganzawala came to our IT park singing for an hour and a half  in an open air concert. It was post lunch time. I informed my coordinator that I was going to have lunch in slightly far food junction and escaped office. I was passing through the concert crowd that was grooving in a hit Kannadi number while I noticed you, standing slightly secluded from the mass, leaning against a wall. I casually walked upto you and smiled as you looked. You smiled back with a hello. I stopped there for some time listening one hit after another. Crowd was in full swing, started to request Mr Ganzawala to sing his most celebrated track, a sensuous Bollywood hit. But he mocked the crowd with gesticulating humor repeating that the song was saved for the final concert on the upcoming Sunday. You were levitated, laughing so hard that I could not take my eyes off of you. I asked if you already had your lunch. You said, “no, you?” I pushed my luck, telling I was going to the McDonalds at the nearby shopping mall, if  you want to come. I did not really expected you to come. You said, let’s go!! 

 You were chatty, energetic and fun all throughout. After lunch we hit the crosswords. I was surprised to know that you have not read the Alchemist yet. I showed the book to you. You said thank god it was not a four hundred paged paperback. I would have bought you the book, but we were not there yet. You flipped some pages. Read the blurb. Then you went to the counter to buy it. I was fascinated. Curious. On our  way to office you asked me if I was on WhatsApp. I was not sure if WhatsApp was available for my n70. I said I would check. You gave me your number and asked me to put +91 before it and add you in WhatsApp. I had your number unasked!! That was the kind of luck I had not tasted in quite a while.  

In the evening I texted you saying WhatsApp guys had not been very kind to my old device. You winked back saying long live text message and a quote from the book you bought in the afternoon. I felt wonderful. I wished you good night. You wished me back, in Bengali!! I was amazed!! 

Since then we kept in connection using text messages and mails. Aunt Acid was your favorite!!  I loved receiving those cartoons from you. I was not particularly good in soft talks. But you talked a lot anyway. After few months, we started going for lunch together. You shared your office gossips or funny videos from 9gag while eating. And also a lot of other light hearted stuffs. I liked listening to you. I never thought at that time that we were going anywhere… But I enjoyed every moment I spent with you. You were always there for a friendly cup of coffee before work, or a sudden go out to nearby mall. It was refreshing for me. 

It went on for almost four to five months. I was completely over my previous girlfriend. Those days I was thinking about you more and more. My every decision concerned around you. Office was in same old crappy situation. But it did not feel that hectic anymore. My mood lit up when every morning you sent me feel good texts. It turned sulky when I did not get enough attention from you. Shakespearean literature interested you. I started reading small anecdotes on it. Could not make any head or tail out of it though but I appreciated the way you perceived complexity. By that time I started developing feelings for you. Your charming personality inspired me. I talked very little, but I never felt bored around you. I was flipped. Days went by in a breeze…

The winter was on its way. The place where I lived was covered with tall swaying trees. They were all shedding.  A much hyped movie was in theatre at the time. Life of Pi. All our friends had seen that movie. One Saturday you suggested we go for it. PVR was in walking distance from my hostel. Saturday was half day. So after office, we took a cab to the Cinema. Show was not until 8:15.  

In front of my hostel there was an open field that gave its way to rows of acacia windbreak. A meter gage line ran from east to deep west through it. The sunset had some scenic beauty at the place. I took you there. You were thrilled to see the glowing orange ball plunged into the dark wood. You enquired if there’s any room left vacant in the girl’s hostel. I was elated to the prospect.  

The movie was as expected, nothing short of computer generated marvel. But you seemed to be excited watching it. you were radiating amazement. I found it quite amusing. I was having a good time. When the neon whale splashed out of the ocean and flung itself into the air sending the timid raft in an appalling rattle, you hold my hand. A warmth ran through my veins. that’s the moment I fell for you. 

After movie we went to a restaurant for dinner. It had glass coated candle like bulbs hanging from the ceiling filling the room with a dramatic ambience. You asked for a Tuborg light before food. I went for something a little harder. We drank quietly watching Dhoni beating a Briton fast bowler on TV. You said you could really use an European vacation right then.  You were blankly staring towards the ceiling while taking small sip from the can. You felt distant…  


I was slightly drunk. A little bit lonely. I cleared my voice. You tilted your head towards me. your blank eyes met mine. I said, may be, you know, we should be together!! You scowled. I understood I did it wrong. I was arrogant, overstepped the line, made a mistake out of desperation. I fall silent. But you were not done yet.  You put down your can, slipped your bag around your neck, stood up and started walking towards the exit. I was perplexed. I never thought this would happen. When I came out, you were all gone… 

You have not spoken to me since, except for a short text to cut me adrift. I am not entirely convinced if I deserved such treatment. May be a week or two in cold. May be a warning. And a verbal refusal, Definitely. 

hey, I really like your blog! I was wondering if you could check mine out and maybe reblog something you like or follow me? I write poetry. I just started publishing to tumblr & i wanna see how it works out. thanks a lot x

Sure!! That would be a pleasure. I always like to read fresh works… :)

May be I am dissipating - 2

Sometimes I take off my glasses and conceive the blurred lines allover my raw thoughts. The perceived world somehow feels safer than the world I’m breathing in now. All those colors bleeding over each other assures me of an universal harmony that my world has lost in the distant echo a long time ago into its stark luster of realism. Rain pelts my fluttering daisies. Hailstorm fractures their petals on a daily basis. But in a world blurred to my senses, morose reality of daisies get smudged into a hopeful bokeh of fantasy. Petal to petal. Color by color. My eyelashes invigorate with pearls of rain and utopic dew drops. You might think I am being unreasonable. I wont blame you. But if I could relive a fantasy for the cost of a certain reality that I never belonged to, I would happily barter my world for it.

When I fall for you

I hope your sky is endless
So I don’t ever hit the hard ground
And be a satellite in the space circling round and round about you…


“Become friends with people who aren’t your age. Hang out with people whose first language isn’t the same as yours. Get to know someone who doesn’t come from your social class. This is how you see the world. This is how you grow.”

— note to self  (via tea-and-thorazine)

so true

(Source: c0ntemplations)


“Fall in love with the girl with flowers on her dress shooting stars in her pupils quiet oceans in her veins poetry tattooed inside her lips lace all over her skin enough tales to keep you mesmerized enough love to keep you amazed. Basically, don’t fall in love with me. (Fall in love with me, the dead flowers in my ribcage are longing for you to cut them.)”

this is beautiful…..


“Sow everything you can, as much as you can - love, dreams, hopes, words, thoughts… So many flowers are sown and so few actually bloom.”

lets take the chance and let it bloom…  love it..


You are so crowded in your vinyl flowerbed
I could not touch you
I long for you for ages hence
I bleed for you till my lips blue dry
I crave for your dazzling smile to lit up my dooming storm
But I ‘m such a coward to stand before you and say
All I crave in life is You…


I think so much about growing up these days, and I am trying my hardest to throw away tired metaphors of blooming, of being a tree, of finding my roots, of stretching out towards the sky. People call me a poet, and I know my place when I say that metaphors won’t do it this time.
‘When I grow up’ was an essay I wrote in baby talk in front of a class that didn’t care. At four years old, I wanted to be a dermatologist, and help the people who experienced the welts and rashes that manifested on their skin like poison ivy - like mine. Most were just impressed that I could spell ‘dermatologist’, and people that weren’t were wowed by a concrete life plan to rival those of teenagers everywhere.
Here’s the thing, though: I just started skipping in the street again. I jumped a puddle and I grinned quietly to myself when the edge of it splashed my foot. Ten minutes ago I got home and washed my underwear in the sink. I spun around in the kitchen and it reminded me that I am so happy to be alive.
And then I think: maybe this is what growing up is. Maybe growing up is learning to be happy to be alive. Maybe it’s making things easier for myself, trimming the fat from my phone contacts, discovering things I enjoy. Maybe it’s to have good sex and buy good underwear and read good books and surround myself with good people.
Maybe growing is doing the best you can with what you have, or learning to be happy with your own company, or being comforted by the idea that no one has a fucking clue what they’re really doing and that makes it okay that you don’t know how to balance your books or put your bedsheets on straight because really, what is a tax return?
Maybe growing up is thinking about growing up enough to realise that everything is growing, from the hairs on my head to the hunger in my heart.
Maybe growing up is getting tired earlier in the evening some days, or understanding that it is okay to get tired.
The more I think about growing up, the clearer it becomes that I am where I was as a child - talking to people that are too focused on their own futures to busy themselves with mine.
And we are all inching, inching, inching our winding ways towards the ceiling.

inches | ishani jasmin (via ishanijasmin)

I am twenty five now, but I don’t feel any wiser than when I was sixteen…
Very well put , Ishani…