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An Open Letter to My Past Lover

 I wrote this when I was eighteen and I lost it. After six years, I post it because experiences like these are too precious to be lost or forgotten to time. Also, my time in my hometown never fails to bring back memories- fond and painful, decisions- impulsive and coordinated and when these memories hit, I would like someone to know. Because otherwise, its a waste and this is just too good to be wasted. That's it. Here we go: " Dear past-lover, I hope this letter finds you just fine, happier and better than you were in my company. Someone had once advised me to love wholly, completely: with all my soul. If love stays, fine. If love is shattered, you shall grow more creative. He was right. In fact, the only reason I started writing was because I needed somebody else to feel my pain. Anybody! A stranger, a teacher or a neighbor. I believed that if somehow I could address the sheer void I felt inside me, perhaps, I might be able to get over you. I wished every night before going ...
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Imaginary Conversations with You

I went by your house last night again. It become a habit now passing by your place, drunk. Like it's some typical Bollywood movie. only it's not because I know what I am doing. I am in control and I'll never lose it. I looked up the window I used to always look up at. I saw me. Sixteen year old me. Patiently looking down from your window. There was a calm in her I know wasn't in her when I was sixteen. My breath grew shallow and paced up. There isn't anything the same in the both of us. You were right. I camouflage really easily and before I could know, I became this person. I think I gave in to the lifestyle; the parties booze and boys caught up to me and it's okay. I am not complaining. I won't say that that I detest the woman I have become. I absolutely do not think I should have been the way I was when I met you; fragile and easy to love. I don't want to be easy.  I don't want to love the way I loved you, like a traveller in a desert loves a mira...

Excerpts from my Last Heartbreak

I took a trip down memory lane today collecting all the poems  I wrote between 2016 and 2019. Its funny how mysteriously time changes our thoughts, our emotions and people who we couldn't dream our existences without become insignificant, their places slowly taken by bigger hearts. However, somewhere in the dark, the last remnant of the pain remains and out of a blue, on a sunny day, it pokes our peace, staggers its skeleton out of the repugnant and clandestine slimy web of our happiness and says: Remember me! I existed within you. This blog post is just a reminder to who I was and an unsaid letter of gratitude to everything that went wrong, everybody who stood with me through my woes, and everybody who left me in the murky cesspool.   #1 First to Last First, we kissed ’cause we loved Then we hugged ’cause we cared Then we met cause it mattered Then we called ’cause we still cared Then we texted ’cause we hoped Then we stopped ’cause we were tired And in that increasing count ...

It takes more than a long beard to become Tagore!

The reason I never sing a Rabindra Sangeet is that I can never sing a line of it with a straight face. Tears well up in my eyes, my jaws feel tight, my voice gets choked with all the unsaid unknown suffocation that gags me from the inside. There is something about Rabindranath Tagore, something that will never die. Something that he has left in all of us and not just Bengalis but people around the world cherish him and bind themselves to him in an uncanny tragedy. Even the most jovial songs have a tinge of gloom and melancholy to them. And the sad ones make my heart beat slow. When Tagore said:  jodi puraton prem dhaka pore jai nobo premo jale jodithaki kachakachi, dekhite na pao, chayar moto, tobu mone rekho  (if your old love is lost in the web of your new love if you cannot see me around your you like a shadow, if you doubt Still, remember me) I could not believe how a man in the early 1900s could write something people will relate to a hundred years later or maybe five-hun...