You are fading fast.

You are fading fast
Did your eyes smile with your lips?
Oh what colour were they?
Ah! And your pink fingernails
On those long slender fingers!
Wait!
Your fingers were short and pudgy
Were they not?
I sometimes hear your voice in my head
When asleep I lie on my bed,
low, almost whispering
talking of love perhaps
or indifference or the climate
By god!I don’t remember.
Nothing remains of you
But a stray word somewhere.
A tuft of black hair.
A certain piercing look may be!
And they will run down one day
like colours from an easel
that has been splashed with water.
I’ll trample them under my feet perhaps,
in one of those insomniac nights.
You are fading fast
Or merging in the milieu of my world,
becoming one of them.
On misty mornings you follow me
I don’t turn back.
You are fading fast.
Don’t return just now.

Universal Death Rate:One death per person.---

Corridor-Sarnath Banerjee.

Swing.

Sometimes I feel,
life is like a ride on a swing.
Slow when it starts,
watchful eyes and careful hands
ready to support
if need befalls.
And then the flight begins.
Feet leave the ground,
eager eyes penetrate
the unseen world beyond.
An urge to break free.
An urge to soar past all.
Constant oscillations
between the happiness high above
and frustrating mediocrity below
that has not become a habit,yet.
Then evening creeps in
stealthily and brings slumber with her.
Watchful gazes and careful touches
have long been left behind.
And as loneliness spreads it's wings
the swing moves
slower and slower
till it stops
at the end of a long long ride.

A short story.

It had to end.She knew.Good things don't last.Not as long as one wants them to.She had known that all her life.The silver lining around the dark cloud is but a flimsy,fragile possibility.One that is visible only in glimpses and never there when one wants it to be.But she wasn't complaining.All her life she had loved clouds.Or rather...had learned to love clouds.When the sunrays first touched her,she was overjoyed and eager to nurture and cherish the feelings they had inculcated in her.Momentarily she had forgotten it wouldn't last.When night falls the sun is not there, nor are his rays.She wanted to wait for the next morning.It never came.In her heart of hearts she had known and dreaded it's non-coming.But she had hoped.Night had even stolen her shadow.So now she had nobody to talk to,nothing more to wish for...except that memory wouldn't desert her.Perhaps it would have been better if it did...but it did not.So it ended...the story of one sunny day...ended without a clap or an encore...ended as silently and unceremoniously as it had begun and the world didn't notice a change.

Tagged again!

Here I go...
If I were a beginning, I would be:- the beginning of love
If I were a month, I would be: -december
If I were a day of the week, I would be :– friday
If I were a time of day, I would be: - dawn.
If I were a planet, I would be:-earth
If I were a season, I would be:-monsoons.
If I were a sea animal, I would be:-dolphin
If I were a direction, I would be:-the one people will advice you not to
take.
If I were a piece of furniture, I would be:-a little couch
If I were a sin, I would be:-hubris
If I were a liquid, I would be:-tears.
If I were a fraud/scare, I would be:-lovelessness.
If I were a gem, I would be:-ruby
If I were a tree, I would be:-maple
If I were a tool, I would be –the brain
If I were a flower/plant, I would be:- a nameless little roadside flower
If I were a kind of weather, I would be:-a light drizzle on a summer day .
If I were a musical instrument, I would be:-pan-flute
If I were an animal, I would be:-a wild horse.
If I were an emotion, I would be:-melancholy
If I were a vegetable, I would be:-onion
If I were a sound, I would be:-the tinkling of a wind-chime
If I were an element, I would be:-fire
If I were a car, I would be:-a scooty.
If I were a song, I would be:-Hridoy aamar prokash holo ononto akash e.
If I were a food, I would be:-chocolates.
If I were a place, I would be:-an evergreen forest
If I were a material, I would be:-silk
If I were a taste, I would be:-the taste of water in a parched mouth.
If I were a scent, I would be:-the scent of a mother.
If I were a religion, I would be:-peace
If I were a sentence, I would be:-'dying,
is an art, like everything else
I do it exceptionally well.'
If I were a body part, I would be:-the eyes.
If I were a facial expression, I would be:-innocence
If I were a subject in college, I would be:-romanticism.
If I were a shape, I would be:-a curved line
If I were a quantity, I would be:-always less than enough.
If I were a colour, I would be:-red
If I were a thing, I would be:-a camera
If I were a landmass, I would be:-the Bermuda islands.
If I were a book, I would be:-‘The catcher in the rye’
If I were a monument, I would be:-a ruin.
If I were an artist, I would be:-a poet
If I were a collection of poems, I would be:-poems by Sylvia Plath
If I were a landscape, I would be:-a dense forest
If I were a watch, I would be.- one that doesn’t tell u the time.
If I were God, I would be:-a failure
If I were a vowel, I would be: i
If I were a consonant, I would be: s
If I were a formula, I would be:-an easy one.
If I were a Science, I would be:-chemistry
If I were a theory, I would be:-hypothetical
If I were a famous person, I would be.:-A nobel laureate in literature.
If I were an electronic equipment, I would be:-a digital camera
If I were sport, I would be:-‘catch me if you can’
If I were a movie, I would be:-Mr and Mrs Iyer.
If I were a cartoon, I would be:-snowy
If I were an explorer, I would be:-myself
If I were a scientist, I would be:-Da vinci.yes.
If I were a relation, I would be:-a friend.
If I were a river, I would be:-The Nile
If I were intoxication, I would be:-love
If I were alone, I would be:-free
If I were a question, then I would be:-really?
If I were a hobby, I would be:-writing
If I were a habit, I would be:-grinning wickedly.
If I were in an atom, I would be:-a quark
If I were an end, I would be:-the beginning
If I were you, I would be:-myself still.

I tag all those that read this post.

Silence.

Suddenly there is a lull all around.
The incoherent medley of incongruous voices
that had reached a crescendo,
not very long ago,
has now died down.
Voices inebriated with happiness
voices drunk in despair
voices of men and women
and their tedious complaining drawls,
voices of the sky and wind,
dry leaves and ripples in water
have suddenly been hushed
by the movement of a withered nervous hand.

Now it is raining.
Silently.

I stand alone
at the far end of the universe
waiting to hear my decayed voice
and the beating of my heart
to know that I live,
that I still live.

A Promise.

Thousand years from now,
When we meet,
In a different world
Under a different sky
Painted in my mind’s deepest hues
Red and purple…and psychedelic blues,
You shall find me
…Waiting
…by a sycamore tree.
Iridescent dreams
In a halo around my head,
eloquent in my eyes
thousand years of silence.
And extended toward you
A hand full of soft and thick love.


Today let us part
For this mundane world
Will not let us die in love!
A glance, a smile, a touch
To last us a thousand years
Till we meet again
In a different world
Under a different sky!