Ink In My Life I am the eye of the storm, when you live in me, I am at peace; I am calm. When the dreams of living are tossed aside, the spirit of survival cranks up the muse. I pick my pen and put you to good use. Winter of Discontent Some day we will connect again. Pick up the fallen pieces and glue them up again. What shape the future holds I already know. The pieces that we left behind in the snow, someday, they will thaw.
Just completed a two day stay at Kolkata, the so called “uber-conservative”, “stuck in time” capital of West Bengal (a state in eastern India). The city seemed lot cleaner that what I remember from a decade ago but retains the essential spirit of a market place that somehow got too big and had to be called a city!
I was coming into Kolkatta from a place that had below par road and rail connectivity and was quite tired from all the traveling through the labyrinthine intestines of India, but the belles of Kolkata changed it all. This is my tribute to some of the most beautiful women to populate this universe, the women of Kolkata! Early into the day, I was waiting somewhere near a Metro (tube) station near Central Avenue for a business associate to pick me up when my eyes first popped out. There was this beautiful Goddess Durga-looking female crossing the crowded street full of rickshaws, yellow taxis and pot bellied traffic policemen. It was a typical freeze frame moment, every other vis…
The life that oozes out in small strips of minutes often gathers courage, braces up, chugs, and starts a soft run home... and then the wind blows. Time heals old wounds and makes ways for new ones to grow... and then the wind blows. In hurried glances, I look at those who chose to stay behind, ensuring that they stay there... and then wind blows. Every time I have a page inked, I turn a new leaf to begin anew, and the wind blows. Every time I keep the beads aside and chose to bury the dead, the wind blows!