.a written note.

Dear Snehmoy, It’s been more than two months since I last received your letter and it’s starting to worry me now. Why is it taking you so much time to respond or is it some other problem which is prolonging it? For your information, I have come past the illness now and I have been healthy for a month now. I no longer visit the Doctor now. I am happy about the visits that I don’t have to pay any more. Japan, apart from some business crisis at brother’s end, is treating us well and life feels at peace these days. Snehmoy, how are you? Where are you? I long to hear your voice but I don’t receive calls with interrupted, often unclear sounds. I miss that. I wonder how, when something goes wrong, do we bounce back to the times when there was a boat floating neutrally, with balanced composure over water? Aren’t we actually awaiting tides and furious waves just to realize the value of a stable, harmless time? It is human nature and I sometimes feel bad that humans are mechanised ...

Dear Snehmoy, I wake up to a sunny morning to find your letter kept beside me. After years, it still doesn’t fail to excite me, your letter. Call it your willpower, I am getting better. The Doctor smiles when I visit him lately, because his medicines along with the ones you gave me are working. He very much praises Indian way of turning herbals into curing a human being, he says it would go a long way. I understand what you’re saying. After years that we’ve been together, it is very likely that we would want to meet. But don’t get in the idea that we have to meet even when it is not feasible. When you telephoned me the other day, I could sense your anxiety and it made me feel bad. We will meet, Snehmoy. You know that. I just feel we should wait more for things to fall in right places so we don’t have to regret later. It is due to your medicines that I’m getting better. Please be assured of that and I wouldn’t want you to discourage yourself just because of that.  How ...

My dearest Miyage, I hope this letter finds you well and feeling better than before. I have a confession to make today in this letter. Yesterday when I sat in the boat at the riverside, the winds were sounding furious, quite unusual for the village that I live in. The climate drastically changes when two seasons overlap each other. I seem to be taking comfort spending time in the boat even more than I used to before, because here I am not disturbed by anyone. Nature has its own way of calming one’s soul. Do not worry, I am not distracted by anything. My confession, the realization occurred to me in the same situation yesterday. Sitting there, I had this fear of failing to make you all right, to get you past your weak health phase. Miyage, am I failing? You can be honest. One thing I am so assured of is the honesty that we share. I almost cursed myself a thousand times for not being available at your place. I’ve only been there through the pictures you shared with me, and I...

I just randomly stumbled upon a question on the internet and I would really like to answer it. “Describe how you feel when you walk outside to a perfect day.” Ans.: At first, when I’m getting ready to go somewhere, I’m usually very speedy about the very activity of it and don’t really have anything in mind unless it’s a planned special day (meeting with someone, anyone; a plan to go somewhere, anywhere). I am usually more intrigued by the unplanned perfection of a day. Since I really have a hard time waking up in the morning, I’m not exactly happy about the start of the day. But when I’m all set and go downstairs, step outside residence, the sight of a sunny day makes me delighted. It wakes me up powerfully. There’s something about the natural clock and the way time changes with morning and its vibrant colours and a slight shower of daylight peeking through thick branches of trees up above, the road-the pathway looks so fresh and energetic, I’d keep walking to drench myself...

Sleep consisting of endless possibilities of illustrations and strokes of brushes of bruised thoughts and wishes. And then an alarm A wake-up call, hey it’s a new day. Waking up to an already awake world still rejoicing in the sunrise with toothpaste, a different brand from home’s. Time - travelling at the back of mind. Time - travelling, always. A reminder. Present Tense. Use grammar of life. When you are in present, live in the present. Mirror. Acknowledgement. Officially, the day starts.

As I see my fingers resting on the keyboard here, I can’t help but feel a sense of belonging. At the same time, I now wonder how many places and people and things are there that make you feel this sense of belonging. Do we always seek this? Are we scared to not belong anywhere? No, I don’t think so. The fact is we really do not belong anywhere. We are mastered by none. We belong nowhere but to ourselves alone. Therefore, when we feel the same emotion that something; anything, anyone, any place; shares our shade of colour, we begin to feel sheltered, comforted and safe and sound, whatever that is. We are mechanized to like shades of our own colour. If I am Black, I am more likely to settle with Grey than Blue, a very attractive colour but hailing from a different tribe of shades. If by chance I do jell up, depending upon each of our influence over one another, we might overrule and we might find joy in overruling each other, we might loathe each other for our differences. The coin can t...

I miss her. There are times when I am reminded of her brown eyes and the way they sparkled through her eyelids. I cannot, not in my senses, give it a recap, her memories that she left, because it scares me somehow. What is the point behind this mystery when you suddenly leave from people’s lives? Why, I mean. Her name, it lingers over the top of every happy occasion as well as a normal gathering in her absence. The traces that she has left behind, without intending to, are the ones that haunt me and they do it really well. I don’t know why I’m writing about it here, where I’m letting strangers read this. But it takes me back to the fact that I know no reason, no conscience and no logic whatsoever when it comes to grief. Grief of hers. I fear it and knowing that I fear restricts me from going in that direction. No matter who disappears and leaves the room, I am haunted by her leaving. The way she walked out. Left. Let go of me. I know grief is best justified when expressed...

The last few days, funnily enough, I think to myself how insecure I used to get when it came to letting people in real life read my musings. That being the primary reason, I hesitated not to keep my previous blogs a secret. There haven’t been a lot of secrets actually or any private confessions to be kept from anyone who I knew in real; but they were just catastrophes most alive in my state of mind. It happened so mostly because all my life, I’ve been a listener. I don’t know whether to take pride or be just a little bit ashamed for it. A listener always listens, and listens very carefully, connecting the anecdotes with reasoning and with genuine concern towards the speaker. But I don’t want to suffocate myself any more. I’m trying from my end to be as myself as possible because let me insert a cliche, Life is Short. It really is and lately I see no point in hiding behind anything for the fear of being seen. Words made me before, they’ll build me up again and I can’t serv...

Of all the stories they told me I picked the ones  elaborated with enthusiasm listening to them in family gatherings, kitchen and the backyards I monitored life with the only guideline that every passer by was an angel, not knowing that there is only place in this world for the adroit and sceptical and I stood there letting life reach  my adrenaline for that’s what a novice does.

Dear Snehmoy, As you know, I spent days and years even trying to learn Bengali or Hindi for that matter, but tonight I am writing to you with the meaning of your name surrounding my brain. The meaning which you had taught me a long time ago. I remember the letter in which you spoke about the kites I had sent for you as a goodwill and how you used them all with one of the new members in the family. As you went on describing the festival and its celebration in India, I couldn’t help but imagine you flying kites and enjoying the festive vibes. Oh, how I wished to be present over there! The Polaroids of yours and your Aunt you had sent me rest on my kitchen wall that shines bright when I slide off the curtains. It amazed me how someone so far away could still brighten up my day so easily, after all these years. Yokohama has treated me well till now and my nephews kept me entertained although they secretly asked my brother why, on some nights, I bled. Yes, there are some days...