Luckily I...

 August 20-2020/ Blog #3

I would have found it so difficult 

to remember all 

I knew…

When it rains, she loves the ripple in calm water.

It was simply a special moment to see her celebrate that ripple.

I stood…

At a distance, staring at him.

Even at the age of sixty, he stood there.

Tall, unbent, youthful.

Eyes shut, hands folded; offering prayers to Goddess Durga.

I waited…

For her to grab the colored pencils.

Joy was written all over her face.

She knew she had to follow no rules.

She released all the colored pencils on a blank white sheet.

Since she didn’t have any form on her mind; she scribbled.

It took her exactly ten minutes to turn the blank white sheet into a festival of colours.

I saw…

He had just lit the cigarette.

His first two attempts weren’t successful.

From the third puff, he started releasing white and thick rings of smoke.

There was no going back for him.

Through every puff of his, he was now the Lord of the smoky rings.

I witnessed…

Her evolution.

She had stepped out of the western attire.

The red bordered Bengali silk made her look like a queen.

Absolutely picture perfect; she shone like gold.

My heart prompted… Behold, behold, behold.

I heard…

Three of them chasing a lonely soul.

The competition was stiff.

All of them wanted to grab her attention.

But she would grant access only to one.

The chase ended; the commotion ended.

She escaped from their clutches, leaving them feeling absolutely defeated.

I sensed…

Every single breath of hers.

We had erased all distances long back.

Right now we were caught in an undefined moment.

The memory of which, we shall cherish for a lifetime.

I tasted…

Hot and spicy. 

Served in a steel bowl.

Garnished with fresh coriander.

Festooned with chopped onion.

My tongue flip flopped.

Nothing had been tastier than this one.

I would have found it so difficult to remember all the above things.

But luckily I CLICKED with my camera.

In the form of photographs, each of the above stories will continue being with me.

(*My ode to World Photography Day-August 19,2020)

-Virtuous Vociferous/ What If/ 2020

The night and the conversation

 August 13-2020/ Blog #2

The conversation, I wish to have with the night 

is about this love, this longing and the unknown rhythm

I wish to have a deep conversation with the night.

Because I am in love with its silence.

Also I guess my relationship with nights is deeply emotional.

In no other way am I trying to say that my camaraderie with days isn’t enjoyable.

Just that I find the night to be a little more compassionate and a lot more understanding.

I know I might have begun writing by saying - I wish to have a deep conversation with the night.

I am sure I have left this night and the few other nights a little amused with this statement.

Even though I cherish their company. For the last few nights, sleep has been my constant partner.

Yes at times, I have ignored the miracles of a good night’s sleep.

Yet, not so unknowingly I got to discover them and continue to reap their benefits.

And while I write this, I am thinking about those nights, with which I conversed nothing.

But today since morning, I was sure of having atleast a word or two with night - my most favorite friend of all times.

So, what is the deep conversation between us (between the night and me).

The conversation has commenced on a good note of love.

The night is of the opinion that we haven’t spoken anything about our love lives for long.

I love to see the way the night is trying to put forward an animated account of the intimate moment it spent with the Full Moon; just a week back.

The night knows I am a keen listener.

Immediately after, the night is done with its own share of conversations, it will politely request me to begin with mine.

I too wish to begin with my account of the love I feel when I come across it - the night.

This love story carries its own romantic vibe; I don’t think so it is possible to feel this vibe by only staying widely awake till late. At times, the vibe can be felt by simply reminiscing. 

But I would say, it is my personal opinion. 

If I come across any other lover of the night, he may share a completely different opinion.

The fun part about this entire circle of love remains unchanged…

The conversation, I wish to have with the night is about this love, this longing and the unknown rhythm to which we groove to...just like addicts of a tribal dance form.

Nights are an addiction. There isn’t a single night, which I might have felt less addicted to.

Every night has come my way in the shape of a poem or in the attire of a prose.

Every night has left me rich with multiple conversations around it.

This night is one such night.

The conversation is still in progress. When do I see the possibility of ending this conversation? I don’t think so, it will end so simply tonight. This conversation is going to continue for some more nights.

I would like to add that there is another reason as to why this conversation won’t end so suddenly. Every night is special. Every night is different. The conversation, which I am having right now with the night may not be the same for tomorrow night.

Even though I don’t know, I may be in a mood to have an altogether different conversation with the night, which will take another twenty four hours to come my way.

Till then… the conversation with this night shall continue.

-Virtuous Vociferous/ What If/ 2020/ 12.11 AM

As a writer in the Freedom Month

Notes from 2016

August 06-2020/ Blog #1

I am wondering 

as to when I’ve enjoyed 

writing the most.

At times, I feel good to introduce myself as a Writer.

Writer by itself doesn’t sound like a designation.

It is a title. A title not necessarily bestowed. But an earned title.

A title, which is so close to my heart and (maybe) to the hearts of those, who know me as a writer.

I do get asked:

Are you a writer?

What do you write about?

Why don’t you write love stories?

How about trying your hands at writing a movie script?

Have you considered writing a web series?

When will you experiment with something sensuous?

Do you write porn?

After that first book how long should we wait for your second book?

What does it take to become a writer?

Which writer inspires you the most?

I don’t deem it necessary to answer all of them.

I think I am content with the fact that I am a writer.

Some might also argue that they don’t get to see much of my writings. 

I’ve never disagreed. Maybe because I am not in a mood to make everything too apparent or visible to everybody.

So here I am, the so-called Writer.

Thinking about myself and writing a little part about myself by being myself.

As a writer in the Freedom Month, I am wondering as to when I’ve enjoyed writing the most.

Naturally I’ve enjoyed writing the most when I have felt free; free of prejudice, free of malice, free of botheration. 

But then someone will again argue - Writing comes from within; it doesn’t need a day, a date or a time for something to evolve. I would again not disagree.

As a writer in the Freedom Month, I would only wish that the freedom to write is never taken away from me.

-Virtuous Vociferous/ What If/ 2020