I swim in an endless stream of words & happily drown in a sea of thoughts Author | Illustrator | Performing Artiste | Filmmaker

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  • rajibalogupta 55w


    © Rajib Alo Gupta | M-Shorts | No. 161 | 24-12-2020 | 22:00
    #nomirrors #mirakee #writersnetwork #pod
    #poetry #quote #rajibalogupta

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    I do not ponder
    I do not wonder
    I do not think
    I do not contemplate
    I merely react
    As I live only in the moment

    I do not worry 
    As I do not reflect
    For I live in the Land Of No-Mirrors


  • rajibalogupta 55w


    © Rajib Alo Gupta | M-Shorts | No. 160 | 24-12-2020 | 22:00
    #echo #mirakee #writersnetwork #pod
    #poetry #quote #rajibalogupta

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    The rustling of leaves ...
    The crashing of waves ...
    The chirping of birds …
    The whispering of a gentle breeze ...
    The sounds of serenity ...

    In them you hear 
    the echo of my soul


  • rajibalogupta 55w


    © Rajib Alo Gupta | M-Shorts | No. 159 | 23-12-2020 | 15:00
    #universe #mirakee #writersnetwork #pod
    #poetry #quote #rajibalogupta

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    You left me in a shambles
    all broken and broken hearted 
    alone in a world of strange strangers
    Now you are one in a galaxy of stars 
    that glitter in the firmament of the infinite, 
    shining your light on me 
    like a beacon of hope 
    in the darkness of hopelessness
    We may be worlds apart 
    but you will always be my universe


  • rajibalogupta 56w


    © Rajib Alo Gupta | MQ 158 | 22-12-2020 | 13:00
    #invisible #mirakee #writersnetwork #pod
    #poetry #quote #rajibalogupta

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    I’m not a man of fame
    I’m not a man of power
    I’m not a man of wealth
    I have a presence,
    but I’m not seen
    I have a voice,
    but I’m not heard
    For I’m the Common Man
    and I’m invisible


  • rajibalogupta 59w

    Rat Race
    © Rajib Alo Gupta | MQ 157 | 25-11-2020 | 16:00
    #mirakee #writersnetwork #pod
    #poetry #quote #words #rajibalogupta

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  • rajibalogupta 61w

    THE NOTE | A Short Story -

    The piece of torn paper dropped from Sudha’s hand. Tears welled up in her eyes. Her legs gave way and she collapsed in a heap on the couch right next to her. Numbing grief gripped her heart with its icy fingers. Sobs died quietly in her chest and she found breathing difficult. She propped herself back on her trembling legs and carefully cradled her swollen belly with her seven month old fetus inside. She bent down and picked up the piece of paper and read the writing again.
    It was unmistakably in Suresh’s hand and the words once again ripped her apart –
    ‘I am tired of living this life, so I am going to end it. It’s no one’s fault that my life turned out this way. I can’t really blame anyone but me …’
    The writing apparently had continued, but since what Sudha had chanced upon was only a piece of the entire document which obviously had been torn to bits, she had no way of knowing what the rest of the writing was about.
    It did not matter.
    The words which she read were telling enough. Her world, the way she knew it had ended.
    When she had a break in her sleep in the wee hours that morning, she was a bit surprised to see the bed next to her empty. She assumed Suresh had probably gone to the washroom and went back to sleep. But when she woke up for the day a couple of hours later and found Suresh still missing, she became apprehensive. A brisk search of their apartment confirmed her suspicion that Suresh was not at home. She broke out into a cold sweat, her worst fears seemed to have come true.
    She had found the bit of paper sticking out from under the couch in their living room. When she had picked it up and read it, her world had crashed around her.
    Ever since the lockdown began, Suresh who was in the habit of going for morning walks had begun to walk on their building’s terrace to keep his habit going. So finding him missing from the bed was not unusual at that time. But that had stopped when the lockdown had been extended after the initial twenty-one days. Suresh ran a garment shop in a posh shopping mall but as it was not a shop selling essential items, he had to keep it shut following the directives set by the government. Their expenses had not diminished much whereas his income had dried up completely. With salaries, EMIs and bills to pay and a baby on the way, responsibility hung heavy on his shoulders.
    Suresh’s father, who had stayed on in their native town, never failed to remind him that if he had got a job after doing a masters in software engineering and not followed his “dream” of starting a business of his own in the glitzy big bad metropolis, he would not be in the trouble he was in.
    Although Sudha was still drawing her salary from the primary school where she taught mathematics, Suresh had found it increasingly difficult to make ends meet in a set-up that was tuned to running on two sources of income. Forced to take a loan from his caustic father, his self esteem had plummeted to its nadir.
    And when the lockdown dragged on Suresh slipped further into the depths of hopelessness and despair. He started spending his days in bed, staring blankly at the television screen, hours on end.
    Sudha, much to her dismay, had realised what these symptoms were and was petrified about what the consequences could be. However, much to her relief, from a couple of days back, Suresh showed signs of recovering from the onset of clinical depression. He seemed more energetic and optimistic about turning things around. The day before, he had in fact told Sudha he had a surprise in store for her.
    But for Sudha, the events of that morning came as a chilling shock – much different from the thrilling surprise she was anticipating.
    Patients of melancholia are often known to feel bursts of lucidity before succumbing to chaotic outbursts of hopelessness and guilt which often make them suicidal.
    Fearing the worst, Sudha composed herself, left the apartment and rung the neighbours’ doorbell, intending to ask them for help.
    But before the neighbours opened their door, she saw Suresh step out from the lift in the foyer. He was carrying a bouquet of flowers and a big packet of goodies. Sudha could make out from his eyes that he was smiling wanly under the mask he was wearing.
    A rush of relief flooded her and Sudha happily drowned in it.
    On hearing from Sudha about the ordeal she had gone through, Suresh felt extremely guilty. He then went on to explain what had actually happened –
    ‘I never for a moment thought that my trying to set up a surprise would end up being such a cataclysmic shock for you. For the last few days, I have been reflecting on the financial quagmire we are stuck in and trying to find a way out of it. A week or so ago, I had reached out to my college friend Shankar who owns a software company in Bengaluru to find out if he could pass on some work my way. On hearing about my problem, he did me a huge favour. He has appointed me as his company’s freelance representative in our city and has already put me in charge of two portfolios. So our financial woes are over for now. And then when I do open my shop, I hope to put Manoj, our current manager, in charge of running our day-to-day activities while I continue to service clients on behalf of Shankar in our city.
    I had gone out early in the morning to buy some flowers for you and pick up some snacks. We’ve gone through a lot in the past few months and I wanted us to celebrate in a small way. I thought I’d be back before you woke up but got delayed as the snack-shop was implementing strict social distancing and sanitization procedures which took up more time than I had anticipated.
    As for the torn note which caused the entire problem, it was actually a part of a sort of a letter I had addressed to me to help me motivate myself to end my current life of stagnation which I had brought upon myself and to start afresh with a new outlook towards handling the adversities of life.
    I had torn up the letter and had thrown away the pieces in the trash and I had absolutely no clue that a piece had been left behind by accident, a piece which would lead to such chaos.’
    Sudha held Suresh in a tight embrace.
    They had realised, life was full of ups and downs, replete with trials and tribulations where the only way forward was through the morass of fears and problems.
    As long as they fought their battles together, they felt, they would win …


    © Rajib Alo Gupta | MQ 156 | 13-11-2020 | 20:00
    #mirakee #writersnetwork #pod
    #poetry #quote #words #rajibalogupta

    Grateful to @writersnetwork once again for the kind repost

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    Much is said through words which remain unsaid


  • rajibalogupta 64w

    Time is a wily trickster
    It alludes you to illusions
    It tells you that your tomorrow
    is formed by the actions of your today

    But what it doesn’t tell you is that
    your today has been built up
    over several yesterdays -

    Yesterdays in which, every time
    you’ve shouted ‘carpe diem’
    in the confines of your mind
    you’ve only ruptured the somnolent
    silence of complacency
    blanketing your consciousness

    Yesterdays in which, each and every
    minute, second or instant
    you were thinking
    of grabbing hold of and latching onto,
    had already slipped through
    your fingers before you even realised

    It’s because Time is like fluid sand,
    which, the harder you try to grasp,
    the tougher it becomes to hold on to

    Time is quite the prankster too,
    it builds you up,
    and leads you to the edge
    and once there,
    if you dither for even a bit
    before taking the plunge,
    it pushes you over nonchalantly

    Then when you are in a free-fall,
    screaming in morbid fear
    with not a soul around to hear you,
    Time doubles over
    in a racking laughter
    that echoes and reverberates
    in the very insides of
    your quivering shuddering self

    But Time has its moments of weakness,
    which you need to seize to survive,
    for those are the moments
    which make or break your life

    So be wary and be cunning
    to beat Time
    at its own convoluted
    malevolent game
    by making the most
    of its weaknesses …

    In case you’re wondering
    what these weaknesses are,
    well the answer
    is quite simple really
    It’s an answer you’ve known all along,
    an answer
    that has stared you right in the face
    and has been hiding in plain sight

    Still wondering?

    These weaknesses ...
    they all go by the name –

    Make most of them
    and then Time will really tell

    A work-related hiatus had kept me away from posting. Since time is of the essence for me at present, I thought of writing an ode to Time itself. Hope to keep posting regularly, though not as frequently as before …
    Thanks to everyone for your kind reads and your gracious support

    © Rajib Alo Gupta | MQ 155 | 27-10-2020 | 15:00
    #mirakee #writersnetwork #pod
    #poetry #quote #time #rajibalogupta

    Grateful to @writersnetwork for the kind repost

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    To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:
    A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;
    A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;
    A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance …
    ~ Excerpt From ECCLESIASTES

    Please read the poem TIME in the caption

  • rajibalogupta 66w

    It was written in the stars that -
    her astrologer had proclaimed to her -
    one day she was to be known
    by one and all

    Little did she realize then that
    she would have to be violated,
    abused, tortured and murdered for that


  • rajibalogupta 66w

    What is that one question which may be answered by any of the following apparently contrasting or contradicting answers?

    A feeling
    A numbness
    A pleasure
    A pain
    A sense of belonging
    A sense of possessing
    A source of hope
    A source of despair
    Something to live for
    Something to die for
    An unsolved mystery
    A known solution

    And … the question is:

    There are hundreds of other answers, I just stuck to a dozen

    © Rajib Alo Gupta | MQ 153 | 12-10-2020 | 20:00
    #question #mirakee #writersnetwork #pod
    #poetry #quote #love #rajibalogupta

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    Riddle me this –  
    what is that question the answers to which are already known?

  • rajibalogupta 66w


    © Rajib Alo Gupta | MQ 152 | 11-10-2020 | 21:00
    #mask #mirakee #writersnetwork #pod
    #poetry #quote #life #rajibalogupta

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    We all wear masks ...
    We have been, since our beginning
    We have always done it to survive
    It’s just that now …
    we are doing it openly