When the night ends

 

Summer in Kolkata had two different emotions. The muggy days with sweat-drenched clothes and then the Kalboishakhi, which brought respite through storm and rain. Utsav could never like the sultry summer but loved the Kalboishakhi like any other Bengalis.

He always waited for the storm as we all do. He used to stand at the window of their house and look at the streets. The arrival of the storm and then taking the pace. Utsav always wondered how the trees of the city which are ever ignored and often cut by the corporation people giving various reasons, reciprocate the love of the storm. The storm always came suddenly and slowly touch the trees. They moved a little standing at one spot and feel the touch. The storm speed increased and the trees reached the climax, moving furiously to feel the pleasure. At the end of the storm when there was the passion of the peace, the rain used to start.

We all love to be loved, we all care to get care and love to share the little emotions. The storms are always beautiful because when it comes it touches you and when it goes it takes away a part of your heart and body.

Utsav always loved the city of joy, Kolkata. The city where he was born and grew up with his family. The joint families were broke, the hearts and dreams were drowned. Many of these families once had the dream of a revolution and dream of a new world. That utopia was never reached but the dreams were shattered.

Utsav had a family which was together in their recent way but broken by the thoughts. In Kolkata, it was nothing new. There was a time when the city witnessed a massive left-wing uprising in the late 60s and 70. Thousands of youth came out of colleges and schools holding red flags to protest against the institutions. The youth had no leader but they followed their heart, they dreamed of the classless world which was never achieved.

The stories of the broken hearts were all over the city and Utsav knew that Kolkata has its own melancholy. But when the night ends there is a new day and the courage to walk again. The city taught him to live and love.

 

 

 

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Never forget the childhood

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Delhi has a slum of Rohingiyas. They do not have a country. They do not have fundamental rights. But they have dreams.

You might not have anything, but you can dream because it is something which is yours. Life is not certain for anyone. It changes in its own way. We should not ever compromise to live our own life.

Nobody, in this world, has the time to stand beside you and to support you. But we expect that the people will do and get dumped every time.

I do not know the names of this two child. But I saw them playing together, the way I used to play with my friends in the childhood. I realized that life has many hurdles but childhood is very important. That is the time when you have time to know yourself. The way you behave when you grow up is dependent on your childhood.

We can only become something if we respect the thought of being real. They are real. They are happy. They can play. They can shout. But I can’t all the time because I, like many of us has reached a no man’s land. Where all our expectations have died and now we should learn to deal with ourselves which we are scared of.

 

 

After Every Storm, There is Some Peace

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I have nothing to write but I want to write today. I want to write to release and to cry. I think writing is the best way to express your anxiety, sadness, anger and whatever you have inside.

I can’t cry all the time because I have grown up and crying has a limit. To release my stress at this time I need something unlimited. I exactly do not know what I am thinking but do we really know what are we thinking.

I just know that you cannot avoid all the questions every time. You have to face the questions and answer them. You might know that you do not know the answers but you have to give it. After every storm, there is some peace.

The day we decided to go away from each other. To find something new. To find someone new. To find a life much comfortable. A life much needed. We both lived a new life. You lived with someone and I chose to be with no one.

The day we met again, I thought I will not understand what to talk. I thought I will just look at you and cry. But it was different. It was so peaceful. I think there are some loves, we never lose.

 

You cried as you loved

When you are broken your hurt bleeds. Its ok, cry a bit. It is a cry for the lost freedom. With every heartbreak, you get back to you long lost freedom. Meeting your favorite one after a long time brings the tear and its okay. Look, listen to your heart and feel that you are broken because you care.

It was your world, you made it little by little but its dead now. You are not anymore the same which you were but you are what you should be. You cry, you feel the pain because there is a pain of break. Every pain is about you, you made it and you are crying it out. You should be proud of yourself and the love you have.

 

(A report from https://1622ghoshsayantan.wixsite.com/sayantanwrites)

My days of un-official relationship and the devasted end

4-Strategies-to-Communicate-Introvert-Relationship-Preferences_SOURCE_Pixabay1.jpgRelationships are often complicated in its own way. Whatever be the faith and the belief in the society we are in at the end of the day we all look for an endorsement for every relationship. This endorsement or the validation of the relationship makes it official.

Now, to me what an official relationship means was an understanding of the togetherness. Where we will know that we both are with each other. Yes, there is a subtle voice of commitment and to me, it was not about having multiple partners or anything in that line.

My relationship with A was as amazing as you can think of. She loved me and I loved her too. We fall in love with the mutual attraction for each other. The day I felt that I am in love with A, there was a fear inside me as I knew that she was in a relationship then. The relationship was of more than three years and I knew that I should not express my feeling for her. I avoided and she did it too but love is a certain feeling which you cannot avoid every time moreover when you see each other for more than 12 hours a day.

We were then doing a professional course in Delhi and the schedule was pretty hectic. The birthday night of A initiated the story. That was the only birthday of her we spent together. She was telling her stories to me, keeping her head on my shoulder and I the always listener was doing my job carefully. The conversation ends and we realized that the time has made us fall for each other. We kissed a hesitant kiss for sure.

Everything changed that night. I was 25 and she was 27. T expressed my feelings to her and she said she loved me but she cannot be with me as she has a boyfriend. I understood everything she said but the time was not in our favour. We started an unofficial relationship.

We were in the Capital. For the city and for us I was her kind of boyfriend and she was my girlfriend. Despite knowing every fact we were walking together. Our physical relationship started and it was good. We were madly in love with each other too. But, there was her relationship always between us.

She reminded me every time and stopped sometimes but as I said the time was not in our favour so we did not stop. EVery little thing a couple does, we did. We went on a trip together, we were living together, we made our breakfasts, lunch, and dinners together. It was a story of a togetherness indeed.

Her boyfriend was in our hometown Kolkata and they used to speak over the phone. With time the sweetness of the relationship was going as I was trying to get an endorsement of an official boyfriend. When she visited Kolkata and met her boyfriend they had several physical encounters which killed me inside. But she neither I stopped our relationship.

The un-officialness was making me desperate and weaker every day. I keep asking her to be with me and kept begging her to make me her official boyfriend. It was my first relationship. I had everything how I imagined but with a first person there. Being the second person of your love is dangerous.

I knew that it will not last for a long time. The desperation increased, the relationship became bitter and darker. We used the fight like hell, we used to cry like anything and we used to make love like there was no tomorrow.

The second time she visited her boyfriend and the same things happened. I could not control my emotions as I was much vulnerable then and expressed my anger. I wrote a message to her on watsapp. Where I wrote that despite my repeated requests when the physical encounter took place this clearly shows that the soul of the person I loved has died because the girl I loved, cannot hurt me like this. My language was not harsh but tough. I was hurt deeply. She called me back after three hours and said she has broken up with her boyfriend and took the decision to be with me.

She suddenly accepted me and broke up with her boyfriend. She said that she will try her best to love me as a boyfriend. We were together officially for three months and then she went back to him. Just after three weeks of our relationship she got a job in a nearby metro city and moved there. Our relationship became long distance. I have visited her twice and she did too. Every time, I used to find that yes we were together but she was a different person altogether. One day she said that she is unable to love me after many efforts and broke up with me. Now she has gone back to the same guy she was with earlier and we are not in touch. According to her status, the patch up is the “peace Trail” she was waiting for a long time.

The end is tough

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You wake up each day and get loved.
You might never try to look back.
Because the end was tough for you too.
We held our hands but never understood,
we loved the time and time flies.
We could not.
I go back to the time where I left you.
I can not see us every time I go back,
as the end is tough.
It breaks.

 

(A repost from https://1622ghoshsayantan.wixsite.com/sayantanwrites)

The old smell of your hair

 

When I walk along our lanes,
I see the kababwalas are still holding
the same old smile.
I wonder how some old things stay as it is.
Unlike us.
I remember the last time we met,
at the airport.
We hugged for a while,
The smell of your hair never changed.
Some old things remain same,
the way I go back to your memories every night.