Musings × 01

The memoirs of people who’ve left this worldly abode.
The inhumanity stored
In fragments of books and in people’s minds.

I look at thee in contemptuous agony,
I see through your soul,
Barren and empty,
Like the desert which was once a lovely seashore.

You have your own labels and antiqued ways,
How naive to think that even heaven is ruled by a king in a golden throne?
That angels in white robes await men who have not sinned
And that Beelzebub’s wrath awaits all those who’ve led a life not prescribed by hypocrital fanatics writing the testament of old and new.

How insane we must be
To imagine the exact same camaraderie
Even after Death comes to take us away
All we ever see is what we want to see.


Picture by Debasmita Chakrabarty

Digne • Indigne

Sorry for being the person you never wanted me to be.
Sorry for being the partner you never deemed normal and worthy.
Sorry for being the friend you never could flaunt proudly.
Sorry for being a disappointment for you and your family.
Sorry for being a ridiculous excuse of a man.
A hollow shell making sound but worth nothing.
Sorry for disgusting you with my cheap mentality.
Sorry for being so toxic to you and your soul.

People know me to be who I am not.
I am the worst possible man in love with the best possible woman.
I am loved by her even after I have destroyed her in every manner possible.
Her patience is paramount and my paranoia is all she ever gets back!
Anxiety, possessiveness, anger issues and so much more
She suffered it all with a smile on her face and silence wrapped around her lips.
I left her countless times and yet she was there to recover me everytime I came back.

The world should know that you are an angel.
And I am worse than the Devil himself.

I can never be who you wished for me to be.
No matter how many times you buy me expensive ties and shirts; how can a man like me be good from within?

I’m a sinner. I am your sinner. Always was and always will be.

You’re my salvation and I’m your damnation baby.


To be continued.

12 Years

If you ever find an animal that wants your Love; give it! And you’ll be amazed by how much you get back.

So, the story ends today? Such a vicious and violent ending to a life of twelve years. Such an ending to begin a day with. You are gone now. Gone with the wind. Gone like the car that did this to you. You’ve been taken away from us, just like your sister was, exactly this same time last year.

It hurts to see you lying there, not moving. It hurts to see your blood spilled all around the road. It hurts to see that I belong to this species and not yours. It hurts to see the woman who took care of you for the last twelve years, cry and shout out to almost anybody who cared to listen. It hurts that out of all the people in the lane that you guarded day in and day out; only as many as three came down to say farewell.

“Such a peculiar name!” they used to say. Ghushan. A name that is synonymous to our household. A name that everyone around us knows by heart. A name that I shall never forget. Is it always the same? After twelve long years; is this necessary? A life lived receiving and giving so much love. Ever heard a dog follow her master into a crowded bank? Ever heard a dog follow her master’s son up to his tuition teacher’s terrace? Just to make sure that they’re fine? Most probably; No!

I grew up with you Sister. I grew up different than most other children. I grew up with two street dogs. No exquisite breed. No friends. No one but these two ‘animals’ who made me understand what Life and Love is. My very childhood stubbed out in two years during the month of my birth. I remember how much you loved me Ghushan, I knew it everytime I saw those two beautiful eyes of yours. I remember those long, sultry afternoons of us sitting on the front stairs and seeing Time pass us by. How we used to play and during one such evening how I tripped over you and fell on your torso and everyone around feared that the “street dog” would bite and all you did was look back at me with astonished eyes and wagged your tail as always. I longed to see you after a day’s wait in school. I loved to see that glazing red fur and a wagging tail running up and down every car that tried to pass in a hurry through our small forgotten lane. And in the end; such a car took you away from us! Fair right?

I know you cannot hear me. I know you cannot see these words. I know you cannot come back to me as Ghushan but I do know that someday, somehow, somewhere we’ll meet again my beloved sister. May your Soul find peace in contrast to the way you met your end. It is going to be a long wait till I see you again; but when we meet, come running towards me like the dog that taught me how to love dogs. The dog that helped me grow up as a human. The dog who saw me change throughout the twelve years but never for once did you complain or stop loving me. Keep barking! Keep wagging your tail! To the most aristocrat street dog that ever lived! Thank you!

I hope you find Saadhu. Forgive me, for it is a shame to exist as a human. Forgive me, for I couldn’t save you. Forgive me, Sister. Adieu, friend. Rest in peace.

Rose Noire

Who says that Black is for portraying everything Bad? Who says that it is the most negative colour on the palette of an artist?

Black is not the colour of Negativity. It is not the colour depicting Darkness, Depression, Angst, Hatred, Malice, Disgust or Contempt. It is not the colour of Night; for we are all Black even amidst broad daylight.

It is just the colour that never got the chance to be White.

It is sad to see how people have denoted it to be associated with all the worst kinds of emotions.

Such an elegant colour, a treat for sore eyes. The only colour which can usurp any other colour valiantly. The only colour that has never lied. The only colour that never fades away. It has so been used for long time to express anything but the holy emotion of Love. The only colour that exhibits what my Heart shall bleed.

My Love is Vengeance. That’s never free.

And so on this day; when Cupid is busy firing those deadly arrows away, I give thee, my funny valentine, a Rose Noire from the deepest trenches of my Heart. Look closely at the petals, they are spattered with the colour of my Soul. Look closely at the thorns for they will make sure your velvet blood flows. Look closely and you shall see it turn into the classic Red Rose. Look closely and you shall see; my Love isn’t Red; it is Black instead.

You are everything that a Rose Noire has ever been held for. A symbol of Mutiny, a strange sense of Anarchy, a demeanour of an Angel with the eyes of the Devil. Your velveteen voice soaks in my sins like a tiny dot of ink is soaked by the paper beneath. Your beauty radiates through the timelessness of Eternity. You are the colour that inks my Heart; you have drenched me once again in Black.

You, my Love, are my Salvation; a curse that can cure a curse like me.

You, my Love, are my Redemption and I’m your unholy Sin.

~ the black curse

via Letters to Rose Noire.

Ode To Life

And thus it began, as mentioned to us by the age old man,
The Seven Stages of Life which I have lived through in my limited time.

But no matter what you may say,

You cannot call me a Loser.

For I stand here, after quite convincingly winning the very first race that you had put me in.

I’ve walked; briskly and wearily,
I’ve ran; swiftly and heavily,
I’ve fallen down, flat faced into the delirious entrapments of your fanciful debauchery,
And yet I’ve stood back up at the end to embrace you wholeheartedly.

So whatsoever it is, tell me.
What next do you have in store for me? However odd or silly may it be
I shall take it upon me to finish this race that I started so steadily.

For now I realise that you are but a Privilege given to a select few. I realise that you are not my commander but only a chanced encounter.

You are a race which one can never actually win as your loyal servant runs behind in order to obliterate us all.

But to those of us who can look down upon the road rather than seeing far away into the distance searching for the destination and the meaning; they shall see the footprints left behind by the ancestors of our humble beginnings.

Life is a race indeed. Run. Not to reach the inevitable end but to leave your footprints on the tracks instead!

¿Enemigo? Mi amigo.

To Depression,

My old foe; withstanding the sands of Time, we’ve surpassed everything and everyone. Time has passed us by like the clock hands ticking away, counting Eternity. We’ve stood there, face to face, addressing our wounds through each other’s eyes and coveting our victories with malicious vice.

You’ve taken away from me umpteen amounts of Moments, gifting in return nothing but tears and dilapidated ruins. The child who’s mind runs through vague ideas is our playground; you being the Sandman of the Night while I’m the Morning Sun.

In this playground we meet again, ill-advised we wage war again, to see who reigns supreme, to see who stands tall when the dust settles down again.

All I can say at the end is that one day we shall meet again, away from this playground and its meshes while it rains.

One day we shall meet, where the World fades away and the dark crimson line between us turns pale.

One day, You and I shall be Friends.

~ Happiness.

Dark Lights – Prologue

Yesterday was World’s Poetry Day.. a day marked by UNESCO to commemorate all those minds who chose to be something out of the box, the ones who chose to speak; not merely by talking! The poet inside me wanted to write about yesterday and it’s significance in our lives but instead I choose to address what my heavy heart wants to convey.

Today morning I lost a friend. A friend who was the first one to teach me about the phenomenon known as True Love.

It was a friendship of eleven years and 3 months! We grew up together. She noticed me grow six feet tall and always made sure I was happy. We seldom spoke but we both knew when we needed each other. We always stayed inside our boundaries, never crossed them. Never regretted it till today. Her eyes sparkled with joy everytime she saw me and though we were a few years apart; she matured way before I did. I still remember the time that we both got scolded for playing in the afternoon and she quietly accepted her fault when my mother scolded us! She knew and understood that my mother was angry while I stood there ready to quarrel with my mother. She loved mother. Respected her from the very beginning. It was maybe because of the fact that my mother took care of her from the very first day she started breathing.

Eleven years have passed us by, yet when I saw her today, lying still with a strange calmness in her eyes.. I could see the flashbacks of our first meeting vividly! It was really surreal. She was beautiful in her own way. Some found her to be too skinny, others found her to be dirty and smelly. To me, her smell never bothered because to her my smell (bad or pleasant ) meant alot! My love for her started from those lonely afternoons where we’d sit on our balcony and leisurely wait for time to pass us by. Oh! It felt like we had all the time in the world. If only I could steal a few more hours, a few more minutes, days or a couple years to spend with her.

I am guilty. Guilty of refocusing my love to others with time. She stood where we were, I slowly got detached. Soon, sixteen pairs of paws strolled inside my house and she became distant. She had a sister who was always a bully. I still remember their eyes the day they saw that we had bought four of their kins and they walked right inside the house, the sacred place they only had the opportunity to enter a few times during those ghastly Diwali nights!

Her name was Sadhu; as in a Saint. An odd name but she loved it. Honoured it with a swift wag of her tail everytime she heard it.

She didn’t know our language but she spoke to me yesterday, through those eyes.. she seemed to say ‘I’ve had a great life. Thanks to you. Now let me sleep. I’m tired’

She’s gone now, due to multiple organ failure and I feel ashamed of every minute that I wasted elsewhere satiating my own needs and unnecessary wants rather than being with her. I may seem overly romantic and mushy but I actually saw a look in her eyes sometimes which just asked a simple question ‘Why do you shrug us off when you’re busy when all we do is greet you in the best way we can whenever your smell enters our nostrils and our black and white eyes recognise you from a distance?’

Do I have an answer? No! But I wish I did. I wish I could go back and be with her but I can’t. I wish I could tell humans to stop mistreating dogs just because its amusing to them. I wish I could kill all those who hurt them. I wish I could explain to them that a dog is a dog; whether they stay inside a mansion of a house or on the streets. They love us in spite of every flaw that we possess. Let’s just love them for everything they do without expecting anything in return.

Rest in peace love. I’ll see you when my time comes. This time when I see those eyes asking me that haunting question, I wish I will have an answer that would satisfy you! Thank you for everything you did for me and the millions of memories you gave me. Love you Sadhu!

This was the Prologue to my story, ‘Dark Lights’.