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इक घर

“मकान कई मिले , घर न बना पाए ” – मेघना
कुछ ऐैसी बात कह दी
जो दिल को छू गई,
चारदिवारियों के
इस कठोर बंजरात में
दुर्लभ होते
घर की ख्वाहिश
ज़हन में ज़हरीली
हूक मार गई।

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The Dead and the Living

“I think I had a mother once…” – Peter Pan

I feel cheated.

Natural death has disregarded me.

Once again I have lost out.

With innumerable masks resounding with hushed, unspoken and unshed tears of shrieks, I am left in this shambles not knowing what to do? Where to go? Whom to talk to? What to talk about?  Whom to relate with?


The living are tiring.


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Shadows of a Haunting

“Each leaf that brushed his face deepened his sadness and dread. Each leaf he passed he’d never pass again. They rode over his face like veils, already some yellow, their veins like slender bones where the sun shone through them. He had resolved himself to ride on for he could not turn back and the world that day was as lovely as any day that ever was and he was riding to his death.”  – Cormac McCarthy, Child of God

Where do people go when they disappear? I mean, what happens to them? How do they disappear?

I know a person, whose mother-in-law, once walked out of the house, supposedly to buy something – and disappeared. Simply vanished. The family is fairly rich and they spent a huge amount in trying to trace her. The police; private detectives; advertisements with photograph in all major newspapers……it has been over twenty-five years now and no trace of her. Nothing has been found. Not even a body. Such an amazing situation. Where did she go? What happened to her?

How wonderful would it be to disappear? Just to go away from everything. But, technically, you cannot disappear if you are still in some one’s mind? When does one stop being remembered? How does one make memories go away somewhere? How do I make my ‘memory’ disappear forever from somebody else’s mind?


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“Did you change the world, my love?”

“…every little thing that happens to people remains with them throughout their lives. Every experience influences every choice. In case of traumatic experiences, the past occupies most of all the space available in the present.”  – Lars Kepler, ‘The Hypnotist’

As I sit in this depressing place inhabited by mundane sounds and people, I feel like an old piece of furniture from a by-gone era, occupying precious space, but kept only because of its socio-sentimental value.

Somehow, I cannot pinpoint the time factor of these happenings but I am certain that they are real fragments of my life.

I only wish I could remember when and where? But my head begins to ache if I try too hard and…

I try to reach out again…I travel.


Long bus journeys tire me and I always land-up with an aching back. The cramped leg positions trigger knee and ankle pain. Visit to an orthopaedist and eventual x-rays had revealed old fracture marks. Fractures! When the hell did I break my bones?

The bus jolted to a stop and I came out of my reverie to find a young girl looking at me with curious eyes that held some recognition. Did I know her?

Feeling a bit strange I turned away to peer out at familiar sights. Familiar? Where was I?

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February 2018
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