Fair whale I

It is impossible to tell how my journey or your journey was starting from the 1st January 2018. It was an incredible journey of love, happiness, loss and sorrow. And when someone asks you. How was your 2018? We end up saying, “It was good”. We hardly describe the tumultuous ride we had for 365 1/4th days. The long hours we spent sleeping, working, eating, running, laughing and even crying. But we are the same person yet changed in so many ways. Shed are those shells we wore in that old year. And today standing on the threshold, we all are about to do the same. Who would have thought that my year would be like this or like that. And so many hopes and aspirations are seeded on the floor and we wait for their germination. Patience……

I have learnt so many things. Yes so many things. New experiences, new faces, new phases to become history and in my case his-story to her-story, my story. 

The experience of teaching was by far the best. For the whole year I mothered myself. I became my mother for the whole year. And I certainly think I passed….

From waking up early in the morning, preparing breakfast and lunch; washing clothes to doing dishes, taking medicines at home to visiting doctors in the clinic; Carrying myself dressed as a teacher, helping myself sometimes with Kohl pencil or with some coloured lipstick to look mature. Getting on the school bus that took a long ride of like 45 mins to reach the school which now was my workplace and second home to the students, learning new things every single day.

The most tough part was when I was given the responsibility of class 8. The first time I entered the class, every one was silent even the wall. I could see few girls and boys all at around the age of 13-14. It was a tough task to be dealing with adolescents, I knew. I then began with my introduction and asked them to follow the same. Everyone looked shy and awkward, except the fact that they smiled looking at my face. Residing in North Bengal, with different features and colours than the majority of people in this region, students even asked me if I was a Chinese. I smiled and said, “I am from Darjeeling” and they understood immediately. It didn’t take much time to adjust their language with mine. They smiled till the class ended, even uttered some Nepali words.

Time passes and it passed, who can held Time’s running hand. Who can chase her everyday, who can meet her everyday. And Time yes it flies changing every constant thing. 

With Time we became comfortable in the presence of each other in one single room. Change was constant except the walls that stared at us. I teaching, them listening, I scolding, them laughing, I uttering, them silent yet thinking. Sometimes they created nonsensical jokes, sometimes the same faces looked dull, something untold. I was strict especially with the boys. Still I opened the doors of my ears to listen to their unsung, unheard stories, giving suggestions when necessary. 

They learned from me and I learnt from them. I noticed that the world was a galaxy of storytellers. I noticed the world was a little I and a big them. I noticed that I was just a small tiny fish with flesh and net caging around me, with big and large ‘Whale’ of stories swirling and waving around me, many of them decaying under the weight of brown dry mud, pebbles, bushes and trees, departing from the connections they built so far when the breathed. I wish if this snowy winter could freeze the year forever or even the infinite time, but no, it can’t… And surely we do not want the same season to cast it’s magic forever, because our genes are accustomed to the constant change, mutability, mortality, so on and so forth.

“If winter comes, can spring be far behind”. So with stream of memories knitted beautifully, not only me but everyone will be bidding FAREWELL to the year 2018 whose FAIR- WHALE of stories and storytellers somewhat modified and mutated our growth.

It was like the same old days repeating it’s same usual speed, and I woke up tired to cross a path inch to reach the door leading to my bathroom. The sun slowly began to smile, as if she was playing a game of hide and seek, 12 hours a day and 12 hours a night. She blushed and turned the clouds nearby her, all red and scarlet, slowly trying to open her eyes, still filled with the softness she had left with….



Every eye is a mystery

Every eye has a creative fantasy

Every eye has created its journey

Sometimes rational

Sometimes superstitious

Sometimes fictional, sometimes a liar

Every eye has its  deleted story

To walk, to work, 

To talk, to learn,

Mobile and laptops

Tablets or iphones

Eyes, poor  little eyes


Spectacles or lens

More pressure


Until it reaches its expiry date

And earth?

She remains blinded

Blurred with 

billion eyes.

Be Aware

“Beware of Dogs”

No, I am not afraid of them

Nor with the barking dogs

In the street

I am afraid

More terrified

For the flowers

Blooming in every house

Flowers still inside that

Pristine bud

So today I throw out the board

Hanging outside my house 

Where it’s written

“Beware of Dogs”…

Instead I put another one

And I write with my blood

‛Beware, Beware’

Beware of the Mask they wear because

They do not say, “you are such a sweet  little girl when they Rape.”

They do not care about your age or your sweet innocent smile

Because they are a carnivore with a human dress

All they want is 

To feed upon your flesh

So I shout

 Beware, Beware 

Just be Aware

Less of animals

More of the humans

Walking by your way.

#JusticeforAsifa #justice

“I just want to end this write up with a short prayer. Dear God don’t put away your eyes from the little gems on the earth. Please, keep them under your safe shadow. May they always bloom safely in each home….”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/bestow/


​I wear a bra that delights their sight and troubles me more

A bra that tortures and imprison my chest

A bra necessary to provide a shape.

I wear a bra that focuses my feminity ,my cleavage

A bra that locks the first layer of a female skin

A bra that channelises a mother’s love to every child after birth…..

But I wear a bra that has suffered every dark roads, sometimes inside the safe home

Yes! We wear a bra that they wish to unlock.

A bra that dresses  but undress their lustful thoughts

A a bra that is critical
A bra that is censorious

I had once thought 

Of giving farewell to my bra 

That asked me not to step outside the women’s room….

Today the same body accepts my bra affectionately

A bra that is well experience, understanding patriarchy and the female strength,

A bra that confirms the vital difference

A bra that affirms the existence of a womb, its significance

A bra that defines our sexuality

A bra that illustrates our individuality



Do you know?

That inside me rests a chaos

Like a galaxy in the space

Like the diverse species of plants on earth

Co-existing without a battle for soil, religion or race..

It is there like the varied words weaving to produce a melody

The chaos rests deep down inside my skin

Like the million atoms present but invisible

to the sinful eyes….

But do not panic

They are at rest

And at perfect peace.

Thank you all for taking time to read my poetry.


I am

The clay in me

Is still soft

The air so easily

Or maybe

Gently whispers through it

I am still inside that grindle and pestle

small pebbles are on their way to be fine…

The water

The air

The sunshine

The morning breeze

Or that morning dew

Has their big or small task to do

They still have a little more to give

To me and to the rest of humanity…

I am a plant

Still growing,

I am a species

Still breathing 

I am an animal

Still moving

I am a human,

still more to work

I am an unshaped pottery

I am an unshaped poetry

still in an artist’s hand,

Young and dwelling outside

 my mother’s womb

With the composition of colours

Still undefined.

I am,

I am…

Yes, I am

still an unborn art

I am yet to be born

The dawn is yet to come.


© pr_Timeandreflections

Took me half an hour, to compose this one. And this becomes one of my favourite. I don’t know why but I just loved my own poem. Please comment and share your thoughts. Thank you for reading my works.

💓 Timeandreflections.



I have locked my

Arms in your arms

My hands in your hand

My eyes in your eyes

My heart in your heart

I have chained 

Myself into you

Not lost

But found

What was lost inside me

I have locked

Even my soul

And renewed

My existence

We are but one

We give out

The same fragrance

And with you

I find my freedom……. ©lil_timeandreflections


​A hot cup of Darjeeling tea in my hand

Grandpa’s unending ancient stories,

It’s our forever company

Grandma’s moral proverbs – immortal

Her sagacious hand, anointing us

Baba’s jokes, humorous, filled with laughter

Ama’s scolding vaporising in the air

Kaka’s slow and gentle talk is healing

Kaki’s sweet songs echoing everywhere

Sisters narrating and

exchanging their lives in a voice so soft, Motif – 

not to disturb baje or boju at night

Functions and festivites,

Paranomal activities, haunted histories

Gatherings and meetings

More than a twenty cups filled with tea

What more!

We grew binded like a branch of a big tree

We are what people call a ‘family’…