Showing posts with label story. Show all posts
Showing posts with label story. Show all posts

The Burden of Expectation

She was just a star, waiting for her wish. He was looking for his North Star. They weren't wrong, just that they were different. Their hopes and expectations from life ran parallel to each other, never coming in touch, but never really going away. Like an intense emotion that you had subverted for so long that now there was no burning pain, just a constant melancholy of thoughts chipping away. But even the stars weren't visible on a cloudy night, and he was left with the dripping drops of words.

He was surprised that he was thinking about her. He was surprised, more so, because she came unannouced, just like she did in his life. She wasn't the dusk or the dawn that he knew would break at a certain time, she was unexpected, like the storm everyone warned him about, but nobody was really prepared to hold her. 

He was expecting liberation, she was expecting otherwise. The night was long and dark and he was happy, even momentarily. So, he thought to let the world know. He did.

Even the night has its color. You see, when you are placed in a dark situation, you become aware of so many more things that you previously didn't figure out. You realize that it isn't quite black - it's red. A very angry red, but not something that will make you feel wary.

A photo posted by Aurindam Mukherjee (@aurgho_) on

The overcrowded bus stop wasn't enough to quell the thoughts he was getting in the overcrowded mind. There were two possibilities his tomorrow held. 

She could be with him, smiling her beautiful smile, or he could lose her. The latter made him almost take the bus and not miss it. But the thought of seeing her, even for the last time was a thought he liked. 

Soon she was there, with a book held close to herself and firm steps towards him. He had to tell her, he had pictured this conversation a million times. He had to tell her. 
It was the night that had a burning rage to unload on hapless people, but you know that only you could see the night. You suddenly realized that you weren't alone and that there was hope, hope for the dawn to break and this storm to end.

He wanted to love her, unconditionally. He wanted to troll the world with her, to see the world with her, his world, their world. He was willing to better himself and he was going to do it. There was no stopping him. 

There was their future, no matter the past that he was deeply ashamed of. But he hoped that she'd love him for the man that he'd become, not what he put through to become that. There were so many things he wanted to tell her, he had to meet her that night.

We cannot be friends. I don't want to be your friend. I cannot be the one who sees you off with some other guy and see you guys to a glorious sunset. I am a terrible guy? Fine, be it. I want to be selfish, for you, for us. I want to wake up by your side and see you wake up to the world. I want to have a bunch of kids and shit tonne of grandkids. I want to troll them with you and I want us to enjoy every sunset like it's the last. You are my sunset, you are my north-star, you are the silence between my words, my prayers, my hope. You are my one last shot at life and I want to be your lover. Before you say your next words which, if not what I am expecting, could ruin two things - our friendship and me. Say either a yes or walk away.

The cacophony of the world drowned for a moment. He was staring at a smile.

The Inconsequential Hope

It's been raining for two days now. Between dropped attendance in offices and rainy-day announcements in schools, the city has become clearer. Colors have come out from the pollutant-darkened tree leaves, and buildings have finally gotten their due wash. Water-clogging is now something that bugs all the metros of India so let's not even highlight that.

In between the maddening rain when the heavens stop for minutes, people make a mad scramble to reach wherever they want to. Hurried steps, lost calls, weather-cursing were something that had become synonymous to the rains. It was quite odd to see myself absolutely different from the rest when it came to the rains. I have loved the rains. The way they greet us with petrichor to the crystal clear surroundings they leave us with is something that none of the other seasons can match up to.


She leans on me with her thoughts, her curly hair kissing her face. Her hands rest on my knees and she keeps looking at me. The city has been washed with another round of rains and everything is clear, as clear as her deep coffee-bean eyes. She smiles away, trying to stop herself from opening up. While she is looking away, I  place the obstructing strand of hair behind her ear. She looks like the crescent moon in this cloudy night.

My own piece of moon, my own little piece of moon with her thoughts and hopes looks at me. Her smile is infectious, making my whole body, my soul, hers. I grab her hands and start kissing them, breathing her scent. 

As You Went Away

3:06am It rains all night long. Between bouts of sleep, you hear the rain drops fall while they try hard to not wake you up. The wind quietly blows through the night as well, ruffling leaves of your garden trees. As you sleep, an entire world dances to a whole new song. The night is trying hard to stay back for a bit longer, trying hard to hide the nakedness of things. Yet, it lingers on with a defeated look on its face, knowing the inevitable that is about to happen in a little while.

Are Regrets Necessary?

"What if ..."

A blackboard with WHAT IF written on it

You slogged it out in the office. You have had a tough day. All you are looking forward to is may be a bath and then hitting the sack. You suffer through the traffic, get back home, talk to a few people on your way back over the phone, your fingers itching to hit the disconnect button. You loosen the tie, wipe off the early summer sweat and finally hit the doorbell. 

The final flight of stairs seem like a challenge too magnamious. Yet, you walk on. You are irritated with "life". The frustration shows up in the way you untie, unbutton, unzip. You are only minutes away from hitting the shower knob. You thought to sit down for a minute to cool off. 

That's exactly when the world of "What if" hits you.

The Adventure of Emotions

It drizzles somewhat in the evening. Sam rushes past his office work to head home. The first day of the year, a Sunday. He couldn't curse himself. He always wanted to be an editor. His parents were waiting for their son to head home quickly today to have a quiet family dinner. They haven't had the chance for so long. After all, their son rarely arrived before 3am.

He was given an early off. His boss thought to take pity on him. Sam was out of the office before dusk and dinner was still some time away. He decided to savor the city and remember few things he'd so desperately wanted otherwise.

Being Urban

"They say what I've done; they don't know what I have been through."

I wake up that morning thinking about the dream I had last night, a broken dream. I look outside the window and I see the bright sunlight tearing down through the curtains; eyes still paining, wanting to sleep more. I look around, dazed and confused.

Was I supposed to wake up?

Books make up a corner just besides the computer. CDs strewn all over the floor along with the dress I wore last night. I sit on the edge of the bed, hands supporting the body on the bed-frame.

"No, I mustn't sleep now. That dream won't come back for sure."

I hear them on the other end of the hallway, talking about what they expected of me and what I had become - a failure.

Just an  ordinary day it is.

I search for my phone, and headphones as well. Few messages and a couple of missed calls greet me. I look at the messages first. The same ol' "life quotes" and "Rajini jokes".

Pfft. Bored.

I put on the headphones. PLAY. Rage Against the Machines begin pounding in my head. Just a feeble attempt at keeping the battery of thoughts away from crowding my mind. I see them arguing about something, pity I can't hear them. They see me and they stop. Someone says something to me. 

I head for the kitchen, make up a dark coffee. He comes and stands in front of me, she stand behind him. I pull down an ear bud to hear him speak. Speak?


I take the baseline, put my headphones back on and head back to my room barely holding tears. I am angry, I am upset and Rage Against the Machine hits the Bridge.

I fall back on the bed, eyes fixed on the window, I can barely see the traffic now. I wipe my tears off to witness the summer sky.

Track changes. A romantic number.

Memories take me back to a time when dreams were a reality. Whenever I fell, I had someone to grab me by my arms.

But dreams do break apart.

It's time to put the mask on. It's time to play the "game" again;
I know one thing will eat me from within
But I am still alive, I am still breathing.
I am down, but not out!
No! You can't put words in my mouth;
I am still alive, I am still fighting
I am an urban guy baby, I am the smiling devil.

Dedicated to a friend....

(The work will/may showcase soon in an exhibition. So, I need your feedback! )

Be Happy With Whatever You Have

painting of a Baul singer
I have always loved the ocean. The sound of waves crashing into each other and onto the boulders has always calmed me down from within. I can sit on the shore for hours and hours keeping my eyes closed and just listen to the sound of love.

A few weeks back ( seemed like yesterday) I had the pleasure to bring the best of my worlds, closer. I went to Digha with three beautiful souls. Those two days were simply awesome for me. We guys were exactly 234 Km away from all the problems that bugged us. 

We were happy.

But let us just save the experience to some other post. What I want to share with you all is my experience while returning back home – The train ride. As our train made its way through the winding fields of crop, we became an audience to a folk singer. (Weirdly enough, I forgot his name)

He had a terrific voice, typical to his area of specialization. His distinctive clothes and his musical instrument, which meant much more than life to him, made him even more inviting.

And then, he began.

He started with an ode to his master (every baul singer does that), but couldn’t gather much attention. But we guys were hooked. We were enjoying his singing just like mavericks enjoy smoking in a rock concert. Hah!

After that, he switched on to some of the popular baul numbers (low-graded stuff basically), and had people dance to his tunes right from the second verse.

After he was done with his performance, he sat down and drank some water.

And then he started to reflect. We two were listening with rapt attention.

“Ashole garom khub poreche to babu, tai beshi gaite parina. Golae prochanda chap pore.” (Since the weather is so warm, I can’t sing at a stretch.)

“Ami ei train e prayi jai. Shobai chene amake. Tai keu kichu bolena.” (I perform in this train quite often. Everyone around here knows me and so nobody stops me from doing my job.

“Khub kom taka pai tobe chole jachhe bhogobnaer doya.” (Although I earn less, yet I am able to manage through God’s grace.)

I am simple guy, with simple wishes. I have always wanted to run-away from the hustle and bustle of the city life and I have always been unsuccessful. But here I was staring at this guy who lived what I wished for. In a way, he lived my dream.

I realized I was smiling. I was smiling since I came to know and understand something from him.

What did I learn from him? You can have a thousand things that may be out there to grab your attention. But you are the master of your ship my friend. Be contended with what you have and do what you want to do. Because 50 years down the line, you might regret NOT doing what you should’ve done.

And just when I was about to go in a deep thought, he took out his cell phone. Damn! :D

What I Learnt From That 6-Year Old Girl

It was a typical rainy evening. I had spent the entire day in the office and was beginning to worry about the return journey back home. Since I am a sub-urban guy, the return-ride to my home is nothing less than hell. To make matters worse, it was Friday. I had to update my reports. Time flew by and before I knew it, I was late.

So, I rushed to catch the metro and reached Dum Dum way in to the night. The next train was in about half hour and it was raining like crazy. With my head-phones in full volume and hunger in my stomach, I reached the nearest tea-stall (nothing like a cup of tea on a stormy night). I took a packet of cake as well. I found a place and I sat down and stared vacantly into the other end of the empty platform.

Courtesy -

I finished my cup, threw it on the track and began opening up the cake-wrapper.

A little arm stretched out and I saw a little girl with torn clothes pointing towards the cake. Her hair was all wet and yet she was happy. She was asking for that piece of cake as if it was her’s! Surprised at the sudden accompaniment, I gladly obliged.

I thought that this little soul would move on after her little “conquest”, but I was mistaken. She was in no hurry to leave and she started to dance and sing right there! I was kinda embarrassed, you know, with people gathering around. But then, it all didn’t matter to me anymore. I started to enjoy this little lady’s song and dance.

Around ten minutes passed and she was all dancing and getting more treats from people around. And then, she suddenly stopped. Just like that. She came up to me and asked, “Ami Agarparae thaki. Ami okhane oi tabij ta nite jachhi jeta porle amake oi bodmash gulo nie jete parbena.” (I stay at Agarpara. I am going there to get that pendant so that if I wear it, those bad guys won’t take me away.)

Intrigued, I went on and asked about her father, mother or any brother who might be around. But she said she was alone and by her behavior, she was enjoying every bit of it.
She kept on throwing her legs and hands in the air while she hung on to that ever-diminishing piece of cake. And while she did that, she suddenly stopped (again!) and said, “Ami boro hole na dilli chole jabo. Ekhon to ami choto? Tai ekhon chole gele, ma khub kandbe. Tai boro hole chole jabo.” (When I grow up, I will go away to Delhi. I am not going now since if I do that, my mom would cry.)

My world stopped there for quite a few moments. The rain, the sudden crowd became so irrelevant to me. I was amazed at that child’s maturity and how much she was clear about what she wanted and when. She knew which trains would take her where, and which ones won’t. She knew the Bongaon line like the back of her tiny little palm.

And just when we are enjoying the moment, wanting it to stay, the moment passes.
The train was announced.

“Train ta late na kaku?”, she asked. (The train is late, isn’t it?)
I nodded.

Suddenly, the station became overcrowded. And just like she came, with the sudden burst of fresh air, she disappeared in to the crowd with the piece of cake. It was as if God was signaling me to get back in touch with myself, with my feelings.

I remembered that little spark of life during the entire train journey. Her deep words and yet simple thoughts ultimately compelled me to write a blog.
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Aurindam Mukherjee