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Dedicated to Partha Deka, a friend I had known since I was a child, a friend fate had brought to me back this year, only to be taken away again  Remnants of a smile on a stone-cold face And maybe you can fool everyone again That death isn't as painful as we make it to be... Some tears bottled up from months gone by- You'd say judge not how one deals with loss... Dying dreams like drops of dew under a rising sun, You'd laugh they don't chain your ankles anymore... We'd cry for we wouldn't know any better And make stories of your new whereabouts, Playing MJ songs and laughing at your own jokes... Or in a make-believe world of hope, Somewhere in peace in a dreamless sleep...

Five years back on this day I wrote my first ever blogpost. So, despite the fact that I haven’t written much after I returned to India from my Euro Trip, I decided to celebrate the 5 th anniversary of my blog with another blogpost. And although it’s been a month that I am back here, memories of Europe remain vividly etched on the canvas of my mind and I fail to not reminisce them every single day, every single night. Some of the questions I faced when I returned (and I still face sometimes) were about how much I spent on the trip, more so because I was the one who had managed to spoil three cellphones and one laptop during the trip. But besides these major damages there were minute disappearances that kept on happening with my trivial belongings. Surprisingly, I felt happier when I lost my clothing items since it implied that I had to carry less in my baggage during the rest of the trip. Here’s a list of items I lost during the Euro Trip and the places where I lost them bec...

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.

She stares at the blank paper Crumbled a million times, Like her own life. She stares at the glass of wine, As clear as her heart could be, Sparkling only when it should - Every time you look at it. He looks at the mess she is now, Oh, didn't he love her once, For the tears and the scars? Time plays its part As it moves on, He too moves on And she, like the paper She holds, Holds a life that needs Someone to unfold it, To wipe the wrinkles Off her pale white face. A tear-drop finds its way To her soul, bruised, He laughs and goes off While she awaits  Another tragedy...

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.

I wrote your name in a million letters, On the pillars of love, On the walls of heart, But as each day passes by, I love you a little less, And that might be the thing about love, That today you remember my name and I forgot yours...

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...

Prologue “I will make it right this time,” she was determined as she thought to herself. It was a cold and windy night and very few people could be seen on the streets, especially at fifteen past midnight. She had been walking briskly since the last ten minutes. She passed a few teenagers sitting on the pavement near the road feeding on something she assumed to be akin to drugs. She skipped a beat as it made her anticipate the near future even more. Seeing a couple cuddling and kissing each other, made her walk faster eventually to break into a run. It was her last chance and she had to make it right this time. She held the jacket she was wearing, closer to her cold body and ran as fast as she could on the streets of Philadelphia. *** “How about never giving up?” He asked his mother who was sipping on her third cup of coffee. Neha had this habit of drinking a lot of coffee whenever she was worried. Rohit continued to motivate his mother, the way he had been doing from...

Of outbursts and outcries of myths and lies in that gentle veil of silence the love so pure, dies The heart wails and it bleeds for all it couldn't get and all it needs And he's punished he's torn for all that is red for all he had worn  There were wounds there were scars and he was tied behind the bars Oh, there was laughter and there was cure there was lunacy and there was lure There was lust on top of hatred's pile there were the unfulfilled desires and a wicked smile Oh, there was freedom there was salvation but he knew it cannot die not his own creation On the path of oblivion lied his grave, treacherous and so he awaited, unaware of the fate precarious...

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...

Let that summer be yours and this winter, it will be mine to keep... the ever expanding white and the naked tree standing alone shamelessly let the green that once was, be yours  and this pallidity will be mine to keep... the coldness the sun fails to obliterate the darkness that falls sooner than ever let that warmth bygone be yours this solitude will be mine to keep...

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...

Let's play with fire tonight set our dreams on flight relive all the memories all that's gone out of sight Lets play with fire tonight ditch the lull of the night make new memories let the lost love ignite Let's play with fire tonight do all the things that incite mess about in those memories memories of that amorous night Let's play with fire tonight for we know it will burn bright pieces of the torn memories and nothing will ever be alright