Just a question.

He requested me to chuck the perennial melancholy aside and write something different. A departure from the characteristic cynicism.
I wonder why people are so opinionated these days. People, increasingly lacking in empathy, quick to judge, sneer and act as a critic. Who and what made us one only god knows.

It reminds me of Gulzar Saab’s lines:
Aao hum sab pehenle aaine
Saare dekhenge apna hi chehra
Sabko saarein haseen lagenge yahan.

Let us all wear mirrors, everybody will see only their own face. And all will thus appear beautiful here.

From my go to raconteur, I heard the story of two strangers who met each other at a hotel lobby, in for the same seminar as luck would have it. I’m purposely being terse here; each thought they fell in love and confessed to one another before dawn broke in. I didn’t know conversations, of certain types perhaps, could be so profound, important and intimate to elicit whatever combination of feelings and hormones are required for two people to call it LOVE. It sure couldn’t have been an epiphany.
However, they decided to part as destined, although both content in having found Love once in their lifetime. What happened next is better left to one’s imagination.

They both fought hard not to reveal their growing love for another. Reveal that Achilles’ heel. I got confused, which battle was more consuming – the one that made them give in to love or the one that made them decide to cut the red string and give it up for life.

The story would make me ponder for a long time I know. My question however would remain the same, does one really give up on the person they love? Without a fight or a claim? Let them fade in oblivion?

I would love to hear back from you. Do write!
amrita.gangopadhyay1@gmail.com

 

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Don’t.

Don’t meet me on the same road
In the same cafe
Traveling by the same metro
Homeward bound.

Don’t hum that song ever
The one you sang before some exam
No one else’s ears can identify the language
The way it tug those weird strings

i wish

I wish

.

Never again book those seats
In the theatre I call my second home
Dare try and talk to my friends
Just beat it and vanish.

Don’t exist.
Please don’t.

Amrita Gangopadhyay

Stupid 1.

 

How condescending would it sound to call somebody stupid, on the basis of how easy things appear to you?

Why must this ego-exercise not be antithetic to a sensible mind?

 

They both told the world in their unique ways that they do not enjoy being anywhere other than the place they call their shire. I don’t know if this feeling of theirs been any different had they explored the world together. I don’t know if their young minds ever dreamt of backpacking together some day to Tibet! All I recollect is their thrilled faces in the company of one another, in their beloved shire. She tells me it never appealed to her so much to pay heed to the fact that you grow rich in experience, awareness and what not when you witness the wonders of the world. Outside her shire, it is all of the same conspicuous & unexciting tint to her.

Ambitious as he is, and having been lucky to visit a few exotic destinations himself, he never quite felt the contentment that comes with achievements. Ironically, he feels more restless as ever. When he closed his eyes sleeping on a queen bed at the Hilton’s London, he could visualize a certain busy lane in South Kolkata. Walking side by side with her on the road that led to a cemetery. Any sense of satisfaction would then again be unsettled. He would long to go back to his shire that has given them nothing other than the sheer joy of a shared existence.

I wish they weren’t on such parallel tracks. If only they had forgotten one another and their love for this place… if only they realized this truth together, if only they un-loved.

People call them stupid since.