Jain Book Center:Pandora Box of Second-hand Books

“Oh yes, I knew him, spent years with him” these words by poet Pablo Neruda were the first thing came to my mind when I met Anil Jain of Jain Book Center, at the pavements of G-Block Connaught Place, New Delhi.   Every time you walk along that pavement you will find Jain sitting in…

Never forget the childhood

    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…

After Every Storm, There is Some Peace

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…

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…

My days of un-official relationship and the devasted end

Relationships 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…

Pages of my dark book-1

      Her insatiate heart was starving for an unrestrained yearn of a touch. The man of her love is gentle and tender but those make her wheeze all the night. She waits for the past, the man when he touched her body the soul shivered. Her heart spangled for the irresistible dream of…

Christmas: A day of memories

    Merry Christmas, a word which brings a lot of memories to me. The memories of growing up. When I was a kid, I used to sleep at night with dreams of getting gifts from Santa. The favorite old man. The morning of Christmas in Kolkata has always been fascinating to me. My parents…

When I talk about love

Love happens the way do not imagine. It comes to our life, make us blind about everything and go. When I talk about love, I think of the dusty roads of the city where we walked together for the first time. With every single step, we try to know each other. Love does not teach…

আমার থামতে শেখা

  নতুন জীবনের প্রভাবে বাংলা লেখার অভ্যেসটা ক্রমশ কমে গিয়েছে | এমন একটা সময় এসে দাঁড়িয়েছি যেখানে ইঙরাজি ভাষাটা লিখলে পাঠকরা খুশী হয়না, আর বাংলাতে নিজে লিখেতে ভরসা পাই না | কিন্তু তবুও আমার ছোটবেলাতে শেখা আমার এই ভাষা আমার সব থেকে কাছের | আজ নিজেকে অনেকগুলো প্রশ্ন করতে ইচ্ছে করে। ইচ্ছে করে জিজ্ঞেস করতে…

Love at the roads of old Delhi

Delhi summers this time was hotter than every year. The roads were mostly empty at the noon. People traveling covered their faces to avoid the hot air. While Delhi was going through a bad time, S was really not feeling the summer that bad. S, was drowned with the memories of his Delhi days. The…