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Ashmita May 2013
In the hustle and bustle of a metropolitan city, I searched you down. Stalked, hunted and fished you out. Out of the 7 billion people, I found you, and that was all which mattered. You. Your hair still soft and ruffled with care, you lips still pink without usage, or so I hoped, your eyes, sparkling as always behind your thin framed silver glasses. You, with your bold look, walking across the streets like you own them. You, with you heavy and slow steps walking to your destination with a purpose to conquer. You.
And in that unknown city, so far away from the root of our existence, with mindless honks of drivers and a play of lights everywhere, I found somebody that I used to know. A face not forgotten, yet changed, eyes which haunted reappeared and a voice which lingered rung in my ears. I found you.
I would purposely bump into you, pretending to be in a hurry, pretending to not recognize the only face embedded in my soul, drop my valuables, say something like my identification card, give you a quick smile and a sorry and run off and disappear into the wave of the crowd.
You would just stare at the card. Be reminded of a life so distant, possibly a life forgotten, probably forcefully. Be reminded of how a girl, crazy and wild, young in her years, had come and gone from your life. Be reminded of the question you always used to ask yourself "what happened?"
I would hide to see your face grow white. You had just seen a ghost. A ghost of your past, who you had forcefully left behind. Now, after decades of separation, years spent not even giving it a second thought, years spent away, you were reminded again. The fire was lit again. The fire which made you pick up the card, stare at the number and automatically dial it up. I would say "hello", at which you would cut the call still unsure of what you would say. Scanning, devising a plan, you would call again, only this time you would talk.
"Hello", I would say confused.
"I found your wallet miss, remember you bumped into me earlier?"
"oh yes thank god for you sir. Tell me where you are and I shall come and pick it up."
and with that you would let yourself go.
after all, a "hi" is all we need to melt, to fall, to die, all over again right?
and with that I woke up to the alarm screaming in my ears to remind me that reality still persisted, and that it would take more than a dream to get you back.
Yeah, another one. Hope you like this though.
Ashmita May 2013
The last few passengers hopped on catching their breaths with a huff and a puff and taking the remaining seats where they could, while handling their bags in one hand and their mufflers and hats with the other. It was just an ordinary day for them. A day when work and reaching their office on time was the only thing they could think about. A day when half their time on the launch was spent worrying if the Tiffin box packed so lovingly by their wives toppled over to create a mess. A day when they couldn't stop and stare. A day when materialism came before appreciating nature’s beauty.
Kolkata woke up one fine chilly morning to a sky set ablaze. There was always something about Kolkata and its lights that intrigued me. The perfection with which every corner was lit just as much as it should be, the hidden eye candy which could only be seen if you look into your soul to appreciate. Worshipers from all over flocked to the ghats to offer their prayers. And with the mindless honking of the city behind them and the open river in front, they dipped themselves in continuously to be forgiven of their sins. As they lifted their folded hands above their heads to pray and dipped themselves, they made the water all around them make huge ripples which were lost in the vastness of the mighty river. And with that, they were forgiven of their wrong doings, or at least that’s what they believed.
The engines roared to life as one of the crew, miserably opened the ropes and threw them on board after ringing a bell. I stood in one corner of the launch eyeing Kolkata, taking every bit of it in - its morning awakening, its old red bricked buildings, or at least the ones which still stood straight, its ghats green with moss and over crowded with devotees, its icy cold winter morning, and the current of the river beneath the launch floor. Kolkata had woken up to one of the coldest days in recent history. 9 degrees and the wind was up. On the Ganga it felt as if I had come away to some faraway land, away from the hustle and bustle of the city, to find peace.  Silence surrounded me and the only sound faintly audible was the low whistle of the breeze brushing past my cheeks kissing them which felt like tiny needles poking me all at once.
The water looked like liquid glass, floating away to infinity and beyond, as far as my eyes took my vision. As the launch turned to face its destination the Howrah Bridge came into view. Standing tall with its two gigantic pillars the sun peeped from between the cables to shine on the water creating a river of gold while the sun’s reflection seemed a ball of fire just within our reach.  The bridge cast huge shadows causing a sudden darkness to arise in the water which otherwise seemed ablaze.  

Across the river the world waiting for me felt distant. Was civilization actually that beautiful? Or did nature just wrap its covers around to hide the flaws of mankind, his ruthlessness, his ignorance towards other beings and its lack of humanity? The dashes of green popped out of the corners of towering buildings, as sun cast its golden rays on them creating shadows on the opposite side.
The small boats sailed on as the launch took me from bank to bank. The rowers sat at the back on the edge with their rows half immersed in the water. And as the currents made them flow by, the ripples came and hit our launch and travelled back into the vastness and disappeared. They sailed through the disturbed water, and its shadows sailed alongside. The rivers serenity was contrasted with the blobs of **** floating by, entangled with driftwood and mixed with shiny cloths, probably the leftovers of the previous durga puja celebrations.
The sky was a game of colors by now. The sun, still a ball of fire, was slowly creeping upwards, the light grey clouds just behind it shot rays of gold down through the gaps they found on the world below, the sky otherwise was a play of grey, blue, red and orange set in order from the ground upwards without a definite point of distinction. A group of three birds, crows most probably, flew overhead enjoying the sun’s late arrival to the cold morning.
My hands reached for the railing. I gripped the rods tightly looking for security. I looked around me to spot the different lives sailing with me. Some on their phones, some sat with their eyes glued to the cold blank floor, as if they didn’t deserve to be uplifted by nature’s display of her beauty, some staring down at their watches to scrutinize each second to realize how late there were while others stood with a blank expression staring out onto the river, probably going over what they did wrong, playing the images on repeat, making themselves miserable. Me? I stood leaning on the railing looking out also. But I wasn’t in my misery. My misery was behind me. I looked forward to life. And for now I looked forward to my destination. And amongst the crowd I was alone. This was my moment and mine alone. No one could have robbed me of this moment, and no one can make me forget.  
The river gave me peace of mind. Its tranquility and its continuity made an energy of constancy flow within me. A belief that this too shall pass, that every moment shall pass. Never ending was its path. A path which life had chosen. Who are we to disrupt it? Who are we to stop? Life flowed on. And times were not always smooth sailing. There will be waves rocking you, making you lose your balance, there will be rocks at the bottom, sometimes holding you together while other times damaging your base. With time and distance the river will get polluted, but it all depends on what you want to show and what you choose to see. It will be used, to its maximum capacity, with only a handful of souls to stop and think about it and do something about it to the best of their abilities. Things varying in all sizes will cross it, sail by without paying any heed to the water beneath it making them sail smoothly, never appreciating it, and soon it becomes a part of them which they pay no attention to it. It will always be there though. Its existence will always prevail over it being ignored. And when you stop to think, it’ll be there pushing you along the way, to your destination, where you will have to say goodbye to the picture perfect moments, the soul touching feelings and the voice within you which screams in its silence to set yourself free.
A prose once in a while is acceptable i guess. Comments? :)
Ashmita May 2013
Yes its something i scribbled here and there a long time ago*

A dark night dawned upon us as i found myself on a little boat decorated with little lights and me and my heart throb stood facing the wide open sea. we didn’t speak. didn’t move. didn’t blink. i soaked the sweet smell of the sea and let the wind into my hair. then we slowly climbed into the ice cold waters. we looked into each other’s eyes and just stayed as we were. an invisible element slowly but gradually pulled us apart and no matter how much i tried swimming, my body was possessed by the unknown.
he drifted apart, away and in the dark, desolate night, and i found myself at sea. with no one to save me.

i woke up to find myself on the floor near the entrance of my house door. my eyes were heavy with dried tears and my body ached. i felt empty, hollow, like something was missing.

yes. the boy i loved was a nightmare to me. just like every other nightmare, you end up either screaming or crying.

sleepless nights are more preferred to than this, don't you think?
Ashmita May 2013
Hid away, somewhere, packed up with careless love,
We all have them, somewhere.
Sometimes filled with regret, sometimes pain and misunderstanding
We peek and nudge at fragments of our distorted lives;
Reach for what was, for what it was worth.
The unusually, unthinkably happy faces
The familiar strangers, the awkward closure,
The sudden choke of realization,
Eyes flood with recollection.
It all comes back,
As it had never left.
A sudden gush of air draws to conclude,
I was not alone,
As I watched us burn
The shadows dance on the walls
Off the fire ignited.
We turn to gray.
We die.
We burn.
Ashmita Mar 2013
Your frantic search will end in peace,
That is, if you search at all.
Blinded by the definition of what you’re looking for,
You drift, constantly, away.
The mind wonders from star to star,
If each star is a wish waiting to be wished upon,
Why do we not get what we want?
The moon lies dismantled,
Behind the curtains of floating clouds,
Aimless, towards infinity.
Its scars help us relate,
To sunken, half smiling faces,
Which define who we really are behind,
Eyes which penetrate the soul,
And with each story unraveled,
We find ourselves, having the same dark side.
With each time our hearts are lost and found,
We fear, fear ourselves of the mistake
Which an individual is bound to make,
That is, of course, expectation.
I have faith in you,
For I expect you to be there,
And with those wise words our miseries begin.
We leave things unsaid,
Switch off the lights and pack up our memories.
In fear of empting the half filled cup,
You breathe deeper instead,
Instead of saying a word,
You stand alone dramatically,
Under dismayed skies,
Pouring its pity on you,
Trying to wash it all away.
You follow the lines on your tear stained face,
They race each other,
They make you shiver,
Remembrance is painful yet a means of survival.
For even though they are packed away,
They persist.
Dizzy thoughts circle your mind,
Darkness hovers as you fear.
Fear, for you have fallen again.
And you are free falling, just falling.

You fight alone,
With skinned hearts, you bleed,
And it won’t be long
Before you find yourself
Drowning, deeper within you,
Fearing you aren’t who you thought you were.
A constant, crystal clear river of questions,
Run through your veins,
For you grew up way too fast,
Belief is now a chore,
Suffering a ritual,
And pain?
Pain is just what you are left behind with.
The faint morning light dawns upon you,
You wake with fear in your heart,
You’re so human and flawed.
So now you conclude,
That your existence is filled with hope,
You expect, hence fear arises again,
From the ashes, each emotion awakens,
The ones that once killed you,
For you had died, over and over again,
The same ones brings you back,
Only to make you realize,
That you always knew what was at stake,
And so, you knew,
That fear was your only truth.
Ashmita Feb 2013
Are those sparks I see?
I think I’ve seen them before,
Those magical moments,
When life slows down
For you, and only you.
When possibilities of skipping heartbeats arise,
When breath fails you
When your eyes are locked
Hand entangled
And you are, finally, warm.
You wake up, though,
Only to find the company who cradled you,
Lost; like the sneaky night,
Which slipped away
Leaving you behind
For reality and the bitter world
To dawn upon you.
And it all happened behind shut eyes.
You were blinded by nature,
And you will be again.
Because it takes several sparks
Several tries and retries
To get a fire going.
Ashmita Feb 2013
Do you dare?
For I see you have stopped to stare.
Do you dare, for one screams in protest,
Mind you, you are no less,
A culprit I must say.
For can you not see a soul in dismay?
Eyes, tearful, look upon you for desperate help,
Does your soul not melt?
To see innocence being shattered,
Her soul is lost; she may die,
Where does your humanity lie?
Hearts disfigured, can she any longer feel?
Numbness around, she rewinds the reel,
Of events which has scared
Her existence reasonably left to discard.
For you didn’t dare,
You only stopped to stare.
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