Pens and Pages

Source: Levo.com I set them on fire, The pillars of withered leaves Like promises long broken. The bridge collapses On a sea of grief. I set them on fire Like there was no yesterday Looking at this morning With remorse and a hidden pain. Ages have elapsed Like a strand of hair That loses its identity over time, Turning pallid painlessly. I set them on fire- The long tresses you so loved once, Touching my neck, And down my spine, Once or twice, a gentle peck. I have burnt bridges, More times than I have lit a cigar Or held you in my arms. Today I pin them down, I collect the ashes- Another bridge to build With grey pillars of Infidelity and torture. Love, they call it While I prepare for it to kindle.

A tribute to the Nirbhayas of this world, to those who did not get justice, to Jyoti #IndiaFailsNirbhaya They were my sisters- Those two poor daughters of an Indian village, Clad in what they call decent clothing for women, Found one morbid morning, Dead and hanging from the branches of the tree, The same tree around which you and I had played once. Yesterday I saw my mother, with tears in her eyes, When she said she saw no hope Of justice in this nation where once I lived. “Avenge my death,” I had once said to my friends, To the people who once loved me; Maybe they still do And fate must have silenced them. Maybe the sticks they were beaten with While protesting against what was wrong, Have put lashes on their hearts, and locks on their mouths. The same juvenile lad who had once Watched me writhing in pain, Probably, with a smile on his face, as I moaned, I heard he is now going to start working soon. And have a “career”, I heard t...

They say when you tell your dreams to the world The Universe makes them come true. I have seen dreams shattered into pieces, Lying on a bed of thorns, I have seen them go all wrong. They say it's dark when dreams become nightmares, When dark shadows grow darker, Forming the shapes of the monsters inside you. They say dark is the colour of blood That oozes out of your eyes when your world shatters, Your dreams die, and you break down. I have seen light creep in the dungeon Only when there was nothing left behind.

Of years of solitude And a final downpour, Of dreams broken And all the pieces ashore, I wondered where went that river Of all the possibilities. The pen was lying dead On a blank paper; The ink overflown Drenched my soul; I wondered if I could ever make right The massacre I left behind. I wondered if I could Ever do what's right. They told me I was a writer And that made my life.

Dreary and Tired, Eyes of the night. Words too worn out To yell, to fight. Drained out of The hope for tomorrow, They look at each other, At each other's sorrow. Eyes too used to cry; They are shut now. A dark sky, Another starless night, 3:00 am And the tale called life. - Sanhita Baruah

Sitting on a rock near the lake, Tisha was ruminating on what went wrong in her dream. Alas! She couldn’t recall how her dream ended; but she wished she could. Playing with her dark brown hair with her fingers, she wondered what if for once her dream didn’t come true. When she realized that she was hoping for something people pray the contrary of, she laughed at her cursed life. It is time. She looked at the sky above and a tiny drop of water fell on her right cheek. It began to rain and she turned around to find her little sister coming towards her in a hurry carrying a red umbrella with her tiny hands. The umbrella, how could I forget it? It was common for Tisha to have weird dreams; dreams of people she didn’t know, dreams of people she knew, dreams of herself, et cetera.  It was when she was 10 years old that she realized her dreams come true; or rather whatever would happen the next day she would see it beforehand in her dreams. At first she used to dream about fall...

From a tiny crack On the lush wrist, Out, flowed A thick liquid, Crimson coloured, From the deepest Of the bluest Of veins in it. "Let us go," Said each drop That dripped on The floor, As it gave away Its hue. "Let us leave too," The liquid screamed From within. The floor Embraced Each drop that spread And so it Turned Slowly, blood-red

Ever tried dreaming of those broken shards again? Nay, I dare not. Not now, now that I dwell in this forest Of that what cannot be found, Of the pieces she picked up And stubbed on each branch Of the tree I so loved. Ever found those pieces? They say they're gone now, Lost in the forest of memories. They say, love still remains; I see fire, I see destruction And a dark night of vengeance. To dream again of those shards I dare not, I dare not.

There had to be a reason why he is today the way he is. He'd either stand out in a crowd or he'd be like an invisible gush of air that passes by which no one cares to notice. But nevertheless, he'd always be alone, away in his own thoughts.  They say everyone has a story to tell yet there are stories we never get to hear. Stories of pain, of grief, of trauma. And these stories would make you wonder if they are true. And then these stories would tell you that it matters not if you do not have a good job, a good love life, or social life or a good career. Because when we talk of death, nothing else seems to make sense, nothing else seems to matter. He'd always talk of things that would seldom make sense, if at all. And what he couldn't say, he would write. He had to write. There was no other way. For the only one who'd listen to him had left him far behind. And she went not to a place where he could meet her, even if for a day. She went to an abo...

Let him dream,  the dreams he sees, dreams of crystal blues of shining pearls and various hues, of that what is fair, of that what is just, let him not see the truth that hurts. And that what went wrong let him not know. Oh! let him sleep in serene ignorance let him dream let him be...

Come to me when the fear does overpower and I will lull you with the tales of valour fear not the fear lurking inside you like the demons, it will be defeated too Come to me when grief strikes you hard and I will sing to you the songs of a bard grief too will falter, sorrow will leave and the shelter of joy together we will weave Come to me when you think you are all alone and I will show you it sits not on a throne it is love eternal that is within your heart loneliness will elope, don't break apart Oh, come to me when you feel there is evil and I will remind you of your true will for there's good within you, mighty and pious evil will diminish, in peace it will leave us Come to me when cruel seems your life and all that's bad, we together will wipe come to me when nothing seems alright we'll overcome with our spirits blithe...

Published in Fried Eye - the magazine on 15 September 2013 Click  here “Utopian dreams” they call it when a young girl or boy, mostly in their teens, dream of having that perfect life of “one true love” hyped by almost all the movies in the world. Let it be a movie on patriotism or a superhero movie, there always is an element of love present that gives the audience a good feeling about it. Yes, indeed love is important and I believe it is essential too. Because without love how can a mother give birth to her child or how can a father gift his child with everything the little one asks for. Without love there would have been no friendships and no protective siblings too. But when people do not put conditions on their relationships with friends, cousins or parents, why is it that one expects and demands so much from one’s spouse? Why are there the insecurities and jealousies that help the once-good relationship to fail so miserably? And then one is left to cry alone, feelin...

She tossed and turned in her bed. Tears, there were, flowing from her tiny eyes, which he had lovingly called almond-like. She never understood how can someone’s eyes look like almonds, but leaving all logic behind, she loved anything he would call her. He wasn't anywhere near to call her anything anymore. Since the last three months, he was gone. “’Lost’ is the word”, she would explain. Indeed, he was lost; she lost him to the hands of time and fate, to the hands of love and hate. She had wailed, begged him to stop. He didn't stop that day, nor did he look back as he walked out with his suitcase and backpack. She had called his name out, so loud that even her neighbours came out of their houses. But he didn't for once turn around, not even to bid his final adieu. “Probably he didn't hear me, he has always been absent-minded in his own train of thoughts”, she had reasoned herself like a dutiful wife. Three months have passed since she...

What if money weren't an object? Would we be together then, In some faraway land? Or would we work till late night, Just like we do every time? And would we say we love our jobs, as much as we love our sidelines? Would we spend so little time, with friends, as we do now? What if money didn't matter? Would we let the childhood dreams shatter?

And I wonder if it makes sense, thinking about you,  and for so long.. I wonder if they mean anything your talks of love and pain.. I wonder if it's for me what you write, so dearly.. and I wonder if it makes sense, waiting for you, and for so long.. I wonder if you think about me While laughing with your friends I wonder if you remember me And how we used to be And I wonder if it makes sense, Crying for you, and for so long..

I wrote... in love, in happiness, in bliss... I wrote.. when it was divine to love and be loved... I wrote.. when you left.. I wrote.. being hurt, in pain, in agony.. I wrote.. when it was heartrending to be left... I don't write anymore.. My blog, it's destitute of emotions..  for I don't feel you anymore..  love has left, so has pain.. and I don't even know you anymore..  and my heart, it's numb today..

Take away the memories with you As you leave today Take away those happy moments Take away those tears too Because I found myself today When I lost you Take away my screaming self Who wails and withers in pain Take away the pink letters Take away the smiles too Because they know it’s over And there’s nothing we can do Take away all the pieces That reminds me of you But before leaving, Darling Take away my heart too Because it can’t love anyone else now As my love for you is true Take away all the reasons That might make you to stay Take away all the regrets That didn't make me stop you Because deep within myself I know you loved me too

For love that went wrong, I write tonight this song of stoics and emotions of hatred and devotions for the man who never kept his words for the woman who conceived each to be true for the broken promises and hopes high for the lost love and solace found for the letters unwritten and songs sung for the million tears and smiles few... for the woman who wanted to fly for the man with wings broken for the dreams shattered and heights unreached for the million places yet unseen for the vows forced and rules breached... for the man who loved with a frail heart for the woman too strong to falter for the anxieties felt and her insouciance for the feelings untold and truths confessed for the first song and their last dance for the realities that hurt and imaginations that solaced... for the woman whose courage was all she had for the man who shattered her only asset for the fears instilled by the cruel laughs for the claims of lov...

If only tears could heal... Poem to be published in Minds at Work 2 by FirstStep Publishing

She said she was a queen … of luck and fortune. Sitting on a street of Guwahati she laughed hysterically at her ill luck and misfortune. She said she was a queen … of wealth and all the riches. And she laughed at her tattered clothes and the bowl in front of her with a few coins in it. It was a fine October noon and we were on our mission of distributing clothes to the needy. After providing clothes and talking to seven or eight people living on the footpaths of Guwahati we finally met this mysterious woman sitting on the pavement near a Hanuman temple. Unlike the others she wasn’t crying, nor was she grateful when we gave her a saree. All she did was laugh at the world that passed by and pretended to ignore her. And when we were about to leave considering her to be someone who would not talk at all, she made us stay spell-bound with her  words. She told us how she was born in a well-to-do family but was made to beg on the streets, not by her parents, n...