Midnight Musing

She sat down on the bench near the huge iron gate of the park. Miscellaneous sounds of vehicles hummed through the busy city roads, while the setting Sun kissed the sky into a vibrant shade of vermilion.  She was waiting, anxious, curious… her mind filled with different kinds of thoughts- insecurity, anxiety, longing and worries. She had been promised, that she would be met there, right at 6 pm. She had been waiting there since the mentioned time, for half an hour now. Her mind kept drifting away, but she tried to remain focused, so that she doesn’t miss the arrival of her guest. Birds were returning to their nests, and making an uncertain (and partly unwanted) chaos over that. The winds kept sweeping off the dust and dry leaves scattered on the park pathway. The huge canopies of the trees, which gave a pleasant shade in the morning, were casting a mysterious darkness over the benches against the neon lights. Every object around her seemed to “go-with-the-flow”, except her. Her hea...

Central Avenue, Kolkata. The sky was a misty shade of maroon that late evening. The car screeched at a halt in front of the rusted iron gate of Chowdhury Mansion. The glazing black door of his Lamborghini opened, and his feet tapped across the old macadamised road dry with loneliness, while heavy with memories. The extravagant pianist, pulling open his white gloves, touched the rusted iron lock of the locked mansion gates tenderly. It seemed to safely lock up the old memories of his family inside the premises. His attentive eyes observed the old mansion corner to corner. He was born and brought up in this very house, his ancestral home. At the young age of seventeen, leaving his huge family behind, he had to move abroad for higher education, and instead, following his passion and after a lot of hard work, moral and financial support, struggle and practice, this young boy had become one of the greatest pianists of India. The “tring”-ing of a cycle was heard nearby, and the old caretaker...

Three years back, on a full moon night, the holy wedding fire had brightly lit her beautiful face. She was draped in her red  Benarasi , and he, crowned with his  topor. She blushed  behind the   pan-pata , her eyes stealing glances every now and then, while his were longing to see them uncover. That was when he had touched her hand for the first time, when her fingers intertwined with his, and with every slight movement of their hands, their rings clicked. That was when their eyes full of love and excitement met, and with the warmth of love and the holy fire, they had started a new life, together. Three years later, today, on another full moon night, he was sitting on the ground, with their rings clutched in his fist; and with every slight movement of his fingers, the two wedding rings clicked. Her eyes were shut, his were wet, yet blank. This time, it was cold and silent. When the same fire lit on the pyre lit her beautiful face, singeing into her body, burning her...

  Each morning I wake up at the break of dawn, And stroll down the streets carelessly, In search of your beauty in the market place, Hidden behind the fences, or under a tree. How do I tell you my love? You’re the prettiest thing one can ever see. I won’t ask for more than your love, Nor to shower all your love on me. You don’t have to change a bit, I’ll love you just the way you wish to be. I won’t promise you the moon from up the heaven, Nor the shiniest pearl from the deep blue sea. But I promise that in your darkest times, By your side you’ll always find me. You won’t find another man Who’ll love you more than I love thee. You’re the spring if my life is winter, You’re the only drug that can addict me. In my tough times, in the long dark tunnel, You’re the light of hope that I can see. The day when you wake up and spread your wings, And among all men, you can only find me, When you open your eyes to look at others Yet close your eyes to look at me, That day you’ll know, that yo...

She could not speak, nor could she protest, ’cause every time she tried to, she choked herself with her own blood. She was beaten up, she was tortured. She could only moan and groan, but not say a word. She was helpless. Her hair was ripped out of her head. Every stitch of her attire was tattered, and with every weak attempt at protest, blood gushed out of her open wounds throughout her body. ‌ Every time that she tried to stand up, a new dagger was jabbed into her heart. And every time she found herself in a fresh pool of her own blood. She was humiliated, abused, tortured and molested every moment, but her children, spread throughout the world, had turned their backs against her. She screamed, she howled, “I’m dying… I’m dying…” but no one heard her, no one turned around to look. They were busy fighting for power, fighting amongst themselves. And thus, gradually, Lady HUMANITY died, unnoticed, and uncared…

It   had rained like it never rained before… The sky was a lousy shade of grey, and the tall trees swung their heads and swirled their branches in the pouring rain. Roads had begun to clog with the heavy showers from the high. Streets were clearing up quickly, shops were closing down; and the animals of the street stayed put to their clans, too scared to come out of their shelters. While everyone chose to stay at home, one young girl was determined to go to school. Turning a deaf ear to her mother’s persuasion, tackling the weather head-on, umbrella in hand she set out for school. She was hardly halfway through, when the water rose to as high as her knees. Fighting against the cold wrath of nature, she was moving on, sloshing through the water, when a strong gust of wind came hurling towards her, and blew away her umbrella. Thunder rumbled, lightening flickered. It was getting dark and cold, and she was getting drenched to the skin. Yet one thought gave her the courage to move on—h...

When innocent laughter turned into composed smiles, And hearty chatters were hushed behind A head hung low and a lowered voice; When the jovial stare turned into cautious glances, And the same hands that once held her up Touched her in all the wrong places; When her anger turned into silence, And shrieks of pain turned into sighs of despair; When only the four walls of her room would witness her break down; Her castle of illusions mourned the death of a girl, And the World saw the birth of another aspiring woman…