To lull the Despair

That feeling of utter despair .I don’t know when and why it comes, it doesn’t necessarily come unannounced; it always knocks .It’s in my head I can feel it ,most of the times I like to fall asleep or sleep on it and with sleep the despair dies too. And when I wake up I am reborn.


When this depression comes my brain almost stops to process any thoughts, all I am aware of is the constant gnawing at the pit of my mind telling me to end, end this lifeless existence.

Some people when they feel low or melancholy tend to think of all the bad things that have occurred in their lives, but in this case I remember or recall nothing sad or happy .I draw a blank and it is this void of feelings / nothingness that further plunges me into a certain eerie form of darkness that seems to have no inhibition of its own .It’s like being dead .Only that I know that I am not but at that moment death seems to be the only way to run away from this dull lull.


I just finished watching a movie a Japanese movie .I started watching it halfway .This girl recounts memories of a boy who had the same name as hers in school. It’s beautiful; I’m falling short of words as usual. I’ve come to realize that I use a variety of words while describing something i do not like, like a trashy movie. But in this case there’s only one word. The movie ended five minutes back and well I feel sad; the boy died .Death, closure, happiness how could they.. .Death, even the idea of death is so painful. To relate and link it to a lingering smile seems almost repulsive.

twenty third march

It suddenly occurs to her .What will happen to her grandma's childhood who she affectionately calls dimma.Her childhood memories of her village in Bangladesh.The lake where the boat swam, the snakes that crawled around the stems of the flower tree ,whose flowers she plucked with her Friend early in the day.
She had left the land she grew up in ,left it for education in a bigger city. A city that would with time become part of a different country.
Her grandma is 76 now ready to live again, another life in a different form.I haven't seen her in years.The smell of her house, my mothers house used to be so distinct.I would often smell it in the evening in my own house. I can not recall the scent any more and with that it has silently left my house too.
Now it is the moment when my childhood memories will loose a place to roam around in.Her house will be bulldozed to create a more modern building. Devoid of her smell.
I shall die in my selfishness and my mother in her sense of respect.
I can smell the wafts of the fragrance.The fragrance of the shiuli flower or jasmine as it clings to the house of my memories.The flowers I never plucked.

The rain

The light and the shadow
I can see
Flickering through the crevices of the tree around the darkness.


Can you smell the smell of the breeze?
The breeze of the rain
The scent of the expectant moisture ready to drip.