Wednesday, December 3, 2014




December.
Month of memories.
Month of childhood.

And of cold foggy mornings at school.

P.S. This shall mark my 100th post. And perhaps my final. I can definitely write somewhere else, but whatever I do, this shall never be what it had been some years back. It had been a great journey.

'Although I do not hope to turn again
Although I do not hope
Although I do not hope to turn..' ~Ash Wednesday, T.S.Eliot

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Tuesday, July 15, 2014

আমি ফিরতে চাই। আমি ফিরতে চাই !

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Tuesday, May 13, 2014

They had talked of suffering..

Time.
And again.

Sufferance of an immense magnitude, but, without feeling.
Without taste, without color, without shape.
Hollow?
No.
Wonderful emptiness, if I say?
Perhaps.

Lastly it all boils down to confusion.

Every damn second is, a confusion.
Your whole life is a confusion.

Each and every one of us is living in an empty shell.
It is the nothingness that is driving us on.

I had read once that 'the only way to live is to die..'
That perhaps, is the quote of the millennium.

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Wednesday, March 19, 2014

the light.

For I shall walk
toward the light.

Trampling yellow leaves
on old footpaths
past sunlit tramlines
past lovers on iron benches
past yellow traffic
in a flash

I shall run
toward the light.

If I do not look back
I shall not
return.

Out of the shade
and towards the light
against dreams of a lifetime
of mine and others
I shall walk.

And I shall smile
even with a torn conscience
even with a broken dream

For I shall look
toward the light

forever
and
always.

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Wednesday, February 19, 2014

A smile broken by the glass.

If.
I could.

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Friday, July 19, 2013

Something rises up like smoke from your lungs and you blow it into the air..

If you walk down
towards the end of the corridor
you shall see,
feel, and smell
the smoke:
black smoke from the old cigarettes
between every pair of fingers:
soft or stiff.

While in wet days
towards evening
if you walk past the Greens,
you shall see the sun
shining on your face
peeking out from among the grey.

And you shall feel
something rising up
within you:
some old feeling of longing,
or a bond with life
of a different kind.

Yes.
Life starts here.


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