De Mourir

Things they say of the dead
Whispering in shades of monochrome

Once one is gone
One can never come back

Through rainbow tinted glasses I peer
In dirges tones that i hear

Things of the dead that they whisper

They say that the climb is taxing
Not taxing enough to pay heed
The shadows on the other side
are the only friends that i have

Their friendship that binds me tight
like a czar’s iron fist
their grip is like vice
the vice like the creeper’s lust of poisoned nettle

Trapped in time’s hourglass
the passage of an era passes
unnoticed by our tired eyes

The yellowed pages of my parchment
long forgotten, long abandoned
wither with burdened age,
the innate scribbles gone, forever.

The smear of the crimson ink
staining my pale hands
accusing me of murder.
Poor murderous souls of ours.
Are they so?

A lone ghost from the shadow
Whispers in tones somber
Once one is gone
one can never come back

Shadows that swirl in
the brightest of illuminations
Haunting, forever.

The view of the other side is gratifying
The sky in painted
in brilliant shades of blood and grime
The ground is teeming
in blackness, a blackness that crawls

Corpses,shrouded by the darkness, stare
glassy eyes that hold no fear.
Driven by the force of shadows.
Driven by whispers of insanity.
Crawling, dauntless, forever.

But beyond the shadows
But beyond the ghosts
But beyond the corpses
But beyond all the lost souls
There was a part of me

A part of me that
Fell in quiet sleep
Awakening only in oblivious eternity
A part of me that died,
With you, without you.

And I recollect that
you had whispered vaguely in my ears

Once one is gone
one can never truly come back.


My kind of Peace and the value of Silence


We live in a noisy world and are never left alone.
Every morning I wake to the sound of utensils clanging, people quarreling, cars honking and every basic element of noise that constitutes a metro city working like a particularly annoying alarm clock that derives some secret inanimate pleasure in disrupting my true love- sleep. Pretty sadistic eh? I mean for an alarm clock that you don’t even set!
Then there is the ‘smart’ phone, suspiciously smarter than it’s owner, it’s become some sort of a lifeline for people to escape self introspection and insecurities which, is really sad, because the best times I’ve spent or the memories that really stay are not the ones directly involving your smartphone but rather, ones I have had while conversing with people and with myself.

In the chaos that is the 21st century we all are plunged headlong into a fierce race for survival and ‘peace’,ah, my favourite part, the elusive term ‘peace’ that has been used and abused but never really, really felt.
So today I took the leisure of asking my peers a seemingly simple question and one thing led to another.

‘What is your ambition?’ and oh didn’t they have a lot to say! A high paying job, status, living in excessive comfort and a ‘happy’ life was what I could hear in all that they had to say.
and then I asked
‘What is happiness?’ and they were ready, describing how wonderful it would be if they had a fulfilling life and that would only be possible if all of their desired ambitions were reached and so on and so forth.
‘So what is the point of it all?’ A philosopher friend was bold enough to state ‘Oh it is all for everlasting peace’
and that gave me an idea, so what IS peace? an absence of war? a state of numbness? detachment? love?
and all of them were suddenly nodding their heads, furrowing their brows and discussing in all seriousness ‘how one can find peace’.
Today I was an observer, and I realized that what we lacked was peace, by peace I do not mean a state devoid of symbolic or literal warfare, nor a state of numbness or detachment, for me the terms of ‘detachment’ and ‘numbness’ seem but a bit harsh. What we lack is reconciliation, acceptance and courage to be who we really are.
Carl Jung said “The most terrifying thing is to accept oneself completely”
The hypocrisy runs so high everywhere I go that people are always vigilant, concealed behind a facade of false bravery and deceit, afraid that someone might just come along and break those walls down and see them for who they really are, insecure, lonely and needy.

I will be lying if I say I’m at peace, because I’m not, the age that I’m in, at 17, there are certain degrees of insecurities that I have to deal with and dealing with them I am. I’ve accepted the fact that I cannot be someone else’s definition of perfect when what matters is that it is my life and I, and only I am burdened with making it a fulfilling journey, not a destination to be reached.
I read a wonderful saying “Those who live fully are ready to die any moment”, so is that what I’ve become? living fully everyday, enjoying whatever work I have at hand and hoping for another day but ready to give it up all at once? I’d certainly like to think, yes I am. but I’ll be honest, no, I’m not, not living fully, not enjoying everything that I have at hand and definitely not ready to give it up all at once. But yes, I would definitely like to get there someday. Maybe as soon as possible.

However there is something I am self assured of, that is, a new level of peace, and that does not come from any kind of enlightenment, but from the mere fact that I’ve learned to truly accept myself with my many differences and have reconciled with the reality that I can never be anything but myself. That is my reality. This kind of a peace brings a new level happiness, and you no longer are self conscious or anxious about how you might be doing things the ‘wrong way’, you listen to your conscience and be who you are, it is that simple a peace for me. Ah this reminds me of a quote from Hamlet on which I was supposed to write an essay but never got around to finishing it.(sheepish grin)

“This above all: to thine own self be true,

And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man”
      – Polonius to Laertes, Hamlet Act 1, Scene III.

The new kind of peace brings in Silence, a full silence that is so tangible that you can breathe it in and bask in it’s warm glow. Silence is not merely the absence of noise but combining the inner peace that one may develop. Silence is that state of mind when you are one with your conscience, accepting yourself for what you truly are and learning not to keep regrets.
Insecurities and chaos will always be there, in the vicinity, waiting to rupture that bubble of peace and silence you surround yourself with, but then isn’t that the way of life? isn’t chaos the reason we can appreciate silence? therefore we must learn to accept both black and white, and that is only possible if one is grey, truly balanced.

“The privilege of a lifetime is to become who you truly are.”
― C.G.Jung

Severus Snape Does Not Deserve Your Pity


Can I say this out loud? Well… here it goes: it really bugs me when people get all weepy about Severus Snape and his somber, torturous tale. As a Harry Potter fan I usually keep this to myself because Snape fans are a little rabid and also he’s played by Alan Rickman on film, and speaking poorly of any Rickman-played character is probably a criminal offense in most countries.
But it really does bother me. And maybe not for the reasons you would assume.
Important disclosure at the fore: I think Severus Snape is a great character and it does hurt to learn how isolated and lonely he has been his entire life. I understand why he has the following that he does, why he garners so much love and empathy. He’s tortured, which gives us an emotional investment in his progression. He was bullied in school, which we can all relate to—most kids have born the brunt of teasing at some point in their lives. And he’s an incredible double agent, toeing a line between Dumbledore and Voldemort that no one else in the books is capable of, which is outright flipping cool.
But there’s a disturbing skew in Potter fandom, one that sees Snape painted as some sort of pitiable, tormented martyr. That contingent usually also seems convinced that Harry’s papa, James Potter, should never have been given a shot at that title and ruined Snape’s chances at happiness. Which causes me to give them the side-eye and wring my hands awkwardly.
Because it makes more sense to me to see Severus Snape’s tale as a cautionary one, a list of “What Not To Do” when life deals you the bottom of the deck. He suffers a great deal, absolutely—but every time chooses to handle his pain and grief in a way that is further damaging to others.
But love! Unrequited, abandoned love! His Patronus was a doe! Yes, I do remember. And it hits home because we’ve all been there, all know what it feels like to care for someone who isn’t giving you the time of day, or at least not the kind of attention you’d prefer. But for those who are somehow under the impression that Snape had his dear love Lily Evans stolen away by that stuck up, rich boy cad, James Potter… I’m at a loss.


Rowling’s use of flashback in Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix is meant to offer us a lot in one go, giving readers the only sequence of the infamous Marauders that we can experience in real time. We find out that teenaged James Potter is quite the insufferable show off, that he and Sirius were cruel to Snape, and that Snape’s idea of a good comeback to the bullying was to rebuff one of his oldest, truest friends in a way that was unforgivably prejudiced. What is contained in that unhappy memory is the moment where he loses Lily forever; though they obviously were not as close at that age as they had been as small children, she was not willing to cut herself off from him until he threw the word “mudblood” in her face.
But because we don’t see the in-between, the line that runs from there to James and Lily’s happy marriage, that might read to something like: Lily got angry at Snape for shouting something awful at her and decided that the ultimate way to “show him” was to marry that guy who’d made his life a living hell as a teen. Which is clearly not what happened. James grew up a little and stopped being a jerk. Lily noticed. (We hear specifically from Sirius and Remus that Lily didn’t start dating him until their final year at Hogwarts, giving James a couple years to sort himself out.) Snape made some bad friends and started dabbling in things he shouldn’t. They went their separate ways.
Except Snape kept carrying that torch for Lily. On paper it sounds sort of beautiful, but in actuality… that’s kind of creepy. More creepy for the fact that he gave up trying to make amends, and never attempted to form a similar relationship with anyone else. He kept a specific version of her in his head, built out of childhood memories and the moments he watched her from afar, and decided that was good enough. It didn’t stop him from offering Lily and her family up to Voldemort the instant he heard a helpful prophecy regarding Harry’s birth. He backtracked, because apparently he was fine with Voldemort killing Lily’s child and husband, the people whom she loved more than anything; he was only horrified at the thought of her death. And that’s not real love—caring for someone without considering their happiness is the exact opposite of love, in point of fact. It makes them an object of your affection rather than a subject. Perhaps his feelings for Lily were the only thing that prevented him from truly going “dark side” with his Death Eater pals, and for that we can be grateful. But the damning aspects of that love show up the instant Harry hits Hogwarts.
Sure, Harry looks more like James than Lily, sure, he’s got a bit of that Gryffindor bravado, but here was the perfect opportunity for Snape to make peace with his past. It’s true in more ways than one, specifically because Harry had also come from a home where he was ignored, abused, treated like less than a household pet. If Snape loved Lily so much, you would imagine he would want to do right by her son to honor her memory, wouldn’t you? But it seems that his hatred for James was much stronger than his feelings for Lily.
Well, if it weren’t for James, Harry might have been his son! Except there is no evidence to support that belief whatsoever. Even if he and Lily had remained friends, even if James Potter vanished into thin air, there is no reason to think that Lily would have ever fallen in love with Snape. And that misdirected anger toward James leads him to use his position of power as a teacher and a guide to take out his schoolyard grudge on Harry in any way he can manage.


Which brings me to perhaps my biggest peeve with Snape—he’s a terrible teacher. Rowling herself has said this as well, that on the teaching spectrum Remus Lupin was supposed to represent the absolute best experience you could have, and that Snape represented the worst. People can gripe all they want about Snape being right to give Slytherins an unfair advantage in this class when they receive no such advantages anywhere else in the school, but it doesn’t change the fact that the kids he favors most are not good students. He favors Draco at first because he enjoys Draco’s ongoing cockfight with Harry, and later (more appropriately) because he knows what Draco is going through as a result of his family’s Death Eater status. But the ways in which he constantly belittles Hermione for actually caring about the subject he teaches is reprehensible, and furthermore, damaging to the very cause he’s fighting for by potentially leaving students ill-equipped. It’s even more disappointing because Snape has the ability to be an excellent professor; he simply chooses not to be out of bitterness.
Is it understandable that Snape feels the way he feels? Absolutely. Is it acceptable that his actions in response to his own feelings continually harm others? Not so much.
The point is not that Severus Snape was a monster and no one should ever think well of him. The point is that Severus Snape is not a hero, and wouldn’t want to be called one. He is a man burdened by real demons, who makes the wrong choices, who pays for it with everything that is dear to him. And he’s the one who makes that bed. He knows he has to lie in it, knows that’s what he earned for himself, and that’s why he does everything in his power to make it right.


It’s what makes Severus Snape such a mesmerizing character in the first place. He doesn’t want to be coddled by anyone who feels for him, who wants to ease his pain. He would probably feel pretty awkward about Harry using his name to christen one of the Potter brood. Severus Snape doesn’t need pity because he’s not meant to be pitied—the owning of his failures are what make him exceptional.
And that is far more interesting than being a martyr any day.

The Day Time Stood Still

What is life, if full of care
we have no time to stand and stare

I’ve always dreamed of being an explorer and to put it in grander terms a ‘globe trotter’, of course that dream as of now remains unaccomplished but I’ve started small, very small.
Most Bengalis (Natives of West Bengal, India) follow this tradition of holidaying at least once a year, rich or poor, young or old, one holiday trip in the summers and another in the Durga Puja vacation is a must.
The year 2012, was the first time when my desire to travel began taking a distinct form.
I, along with my mom and dad were holidaying in Puri beach, Odisha in October 2012.
I’ve always fancied myself to be a nature-lover with poets like Wordsworth, Henry Davies predominantly shaping my outlook as an ‘idealist’.
I was 16 that year and we were strolling along the length of the beach, and I was feeling particularly adventurous that evening.
I walked along, by myself, as long as I could go and came across this lighthouse at a secluded end of the beach, this place beautifully quiet and peaceful and this is where I knew I had found ‘my spot’.

Light house at Kapu beach near Udupi The Lighthouse.

So, I was there, present in the beach in this part where no one was around with my feet digging into the moist sand and the warm sea breeze with the occasional spray of foam from the waves that lashed at my feet.
PURI2 Sunset, 5.38pm
PURI3 5.55pm

It was as if time had stopped, for one precious moment I felt exuberant, there I was drinking in the setting sun, the deep hues of orange and vermillion colouring the sky, For that timeless moment I had no worries, no responsibilities and no one to please but myself. That was one moment I felt what it was like to be truly happy.

No time to turn at Beauty’s glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance.

No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began.

A poor life this is if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare

And more importantly, that was a day of realizations.
That happiness is found in the least of things, they gush in all of a sudden, catching you by surprise and then leave you, fulfilled and at peace, making one realize the value of the small things in life, which ignored in the daily bustle of life add up to be of the greatest importance in the end. Because in the end, peace and quiet is all that matters which no business-class trip, no amount of money and no five star hotel luxury can offer.
True peace and happiness is that tiny key in your bunch, waiting to be given a chance, waiting to unlock the floodgates of intrinsic bliss. Notice it, open the lock with the seemingly unimportant key before it gradually rusts to nothingness.

Five Ways to End Your Post

The Daily Post

Many of you devote a lot of time and attention to your opening sentences — and rightfully so. Considering how important it is to hook your readers from the get-go, you want to get that part right.

In writing just as in music, though, our lingering impression of the piece we’ve just consumed depends just as much — if not more so — on the finale. Yet so often, by the time we reach the end of our post, we’re too tired, too unfocused, or too eager to hit the Publish button to care too much about how we bid farewell to our audience.

If that sounds like you, it might be time to rethink how you approach your post endings. Here are five ideas to make the tail end of your post just as engaging as its first note.

Throw a teaser

Why not use the very end of one…

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Stood tall the tower of her confinement
far far away from mortal reach

The patch of vivid blue from her window
was forever clear, so vibrant, so distant.

Her tower stood in the heart
of a forest forbidden,
where dwelt the creatures of magic
and creepers and trees that breathed
of treachery.

She longed for an escape
and escape that would hold her up
like a man’s strong arms that held his daughter
or that his lover is lifted by,
up to touch the distant patch
of forget-me-not blue
or lay her down,
down in the dew kissed meadow below
where a soul, laid on the
lush green ecstasy would soothe.

But desires don’t materialize into gallant princes,
princes that will come galloping, to give in
to her whims and fancies then
galloping on horses to whisk her away

For passing of time she used to sit
by the lone window and does so still
immersed in thoughts of unfathomable depths
swirling images in her keep

A silver paintbrush in her hand
drawing miracles on her walls of confinement,
An unconfined spirit,
A high waterfall, exuberant freedom
A blazing sun, righteous anger
A sole ship sailing on high seas,
Tides in her heart
A woman on horseback
an escape, her escape.

Midst sighs of defeat, exclaims of bliss
She planned it, in careful wit.

Then the dark head with endless tresses
like rippling waters of a black river,
unending, winding, unwinding, looked up.
The plan was drawn – fully bloomed
’twas reflected in the spring of her dark eyes
in the summer of the dusky skin
in the flush of her cheek
and in the tremble of her lips

That night by her window
not in contemplationbut in disquiet fervour she sat
holding her brush and hair
she let her breath upon
her bosom splay, her head bent
o’er the casement’s ledge
anticipation writ large
across her poignant face

A trembling palm enclose
the shaft of the silver brush
A stroking move, an intense flash,
A blaze of red hot light
The enchantment had not broken.

A hundred silver fragments lay
in the open of her palms
The gleam of the moon
in the northern sky failed
to camouflage her tears
that now pooled.

Mother Gothel’s enchantment had worked well;
keeping her in this wicked confinement
for eternities to come.
bent double, she curled up in desolateness
and the warmth of the moon seemed cold.

One white landscape away
She was sitting on her ledge
knitting time away
in strands of brilliant rainbow

When came a call of her name
A call that seared through her wintry heart
to touch the softness that still flamed
and thus in secret, she let down her hair.

He was up inside her tower
beside her, spreading his warmth
She was compelled under his tempting touch.
Her lamp ebbed so did her coldness
The darkness grew but only outside
within her there was only light.
The year long frost had melted away

Now she sat in the darkness
The night still young.
Awaiting his arrival.
waiting for his touch to
drive away the coldness
waiting for his kiss to
make the world disappear
waiting to lay in the heat of her bed
a space where only they belonged
a place which held secrets
secrets that made her blush scarlet.

She waited a long while, no call came.
Her lamp was ebbing away
She held her breath
A soft murmur reached her ears

Picking up the slight sound
she ventured into Mother Gothel’s
The key space showed her, two figures
Two figures entwined in intense familiarity
Two figures she knew well. Perfectly well.

The light was out of her by the time
she reached her door, into a tower cold.
no heat to warm her the slightest.

Summer had gone away too soon.
The fire that once blazed in the hearth
had been doused forevermore.

The tears of sorrow never came,
nor the excruciating pain she had expected.

Her entirety had been replaced by an emptiness
A gaping hollow she felt pleased to have.
The fire breathing dragon beneath her tower
had taken her heart, never to return again.

It was then she knew what to do
it was then the key to the lock was secured
it was then she knew what she had to make
it was then she knew she only had to make a Choice.

Apolectus! Apolectus! she cried in bittersweetness

Then she slashed at her mortal bindings
tore away the ropes of immortality
freed herself to fly away or to sink
to oblivion or to eternal bliss
that I cannot tell for sure,
for, it was Always her choice.


You are a Bird, freedom is your name
and you were born to fly.
Chaining you down will dwindle
the ethereal beauty that is yours.
Caging you will erase your charm.

As hard as it may be,
I will let you go, let you soar,
fly away, out into the open sky.

Dill your delicate lungs with laughter,
the freshness of then new dawn;
Sing out in your sweet melody
Sing till the cup of your heart,
brims with eternal bliss.

Spread out, spread out your rainbow wings
and colour the monotonous sky with
your myriad variety.

Let me watch you fly,
Look! the Sky is awaiting your flight,
Her arms are open to take you in
Freedom. Finality. Eternity and Hope.
Remember to fly, Bird, dearest,
for you, were born to.