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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.



​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


The Shadows

(It took me an hour to weave  this  true story into a poem. I would love to know your thoughts in the comment below.)

The dark shadows in her lips

A massive discomfort

Had her heart


She could not 


But hum

The tunes of


Printing her every


Jailed in

The gown

She wore

When excited

She stood

To taste the love

Which now grew

Beastly and Bitter
The dark shadows in her 

Lips remain freezed

For she refuses

To let the black clouds

Pour over her family

Some thick mascaras

Shades of foundation

With a smile she fakes, she clothes herself

She sails in the river and deceives so well.





My ear is accustomed

Not to the hooting of the owl

Or loud chirping noises of the birds

But to the pleasant music

The roads and highway plays

Without dropping a single sweat

From sunrise to sunset,

From sunrise to sunset.

Accompanying and delighting 

every person on its way

That tring- trings of the cycle,

The Vroom Vroom of the bikes

The  honk – honk of the buses,

The different horn-tones of the cars that is preset

Like a mobile ringtone that vibrates on your way….

They are magical ,musical instruments

And music is what they play

Its pure music I say.

But in the evening

When their music fades

And silent prevails

It is the annoying sound

 of crawling reptiles- hissing, insects -buzzing,

Sometimes screaming,

Their high pitched voice,

O,that disturbing ,irritating noise

That deeply hits my brain.

It digs my brain

It is not the view of the tall trees,

But the mountain high skyscrapers

That I enjoy.

This is me

Yes me

My body 



More towards superficiality

More towards artificiality

My body so much latched to it

Locked and I have already lost the key…

As I go far, more far from nature

And come close, more close

Towards this ‘madding croud’

More close to this ‘mad-adding crowd’

<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/brave/”>Brave</a&gt;Brave“>Brave

writings on the wall



A warm hug 🙆and Namastey🙏 to all my WordPress family( the blogs I follow,the blogs who follows me and the future blogs I will be following and vice-versa). Lately I haven’t been able to paint the WordPress wall with my words because of my busy schedule( college, classes and my Ama being quite unwell) . But still I have managed to write  quite a few lines before bed or while travelling by bus. So these are the pictures of my work.👇👇👇👇 Happy writing and reading.💗💗💗💗💗💗


Thank you for visiting by blog an giving a minute or two reading my simple writings😇I hope it was worth reading/ worth taking your time. Hope you all enjoyed. Check out my other posts -articles/poems. Wish you all a very happy today / tomorrow. Keep praying and do not let your smile die.

With  infinite 💗💞


P.R_ timeandreflections