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richasmukherjee.com

love, laughter, pain, joy, life and its lessons, one word at a time

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feelings

A grand love


She ran to you and nuzzled her nose in between your knees, shutting the world out.

You caressed the fluffy tuft of hair on her head. She looked up and gave you that smile.

The smile that’s reserved only for you.

You smiled back and shut out the world that existed beyond the both of you.

I wanted to lock this moment in my head and throw the keys away.

So far away, into the depths of the ocean,

Where no one could touch this memory, nothing could change this moment.

Not age, not distance, not the cruel talons of time.

I’ve looked deep into those small twinkling starry eyes many times.

When they open, they search for you till they can find that old familiar figure extending an unwavering hand that is always searching for hers.

When they become heavy with sleep, they push and fight to just drink in one last smile , one last picture of you.

When they dream, it’s always a sunny day where a head full of silver and a tiny black one, Bob up and down along the beach, holding hands and exchanging fantastical tales and silly jokes with equal fervour.

The dreams have travelled a lifetime now, from my eyes to hers.

But the common and the constant is you.

I will never know your secret games, your endless conversations, your special communication even when no words are spoken.

But there is one corner of my heart which will forever be lit up with the memories that I have locked away.

Of an old man and a little girl and their little world.

Wings

One foot in front of the other. 

And the race begins.

They are racing each other, time, the phone calls, the appointments and the chaos that I’m leaving behind.

There is no finish line, and I don’t care if I come back.

All they know is that they are the wind that will lift me and take me far away.

The adrenaline pulses,keeping time with my throbbing temples.

The tributaries of sweat, charting a new course every few minutes.

My heart beats drum into my ears, drowning out the rest of the world.

My hair billowing in the breeze, trailing behind me like my very own superhero cape.

I really do feel like a hero right now.

I’ve conquered hunger, pebbles, potholes, rain, grime, sweat and pain.

I’ll feel like giving up a million times, but I know in a heartbeat I could do it all again.

My legs will find me a new world everyday.

I don’t need a map,

A road,

A compass to steer me,

Today, every obstacle will stay out of my way.

Noise


I feel like a misfit sometimes.

Like I’m a pair of trousers one size too large or a glove too tiny.

In this world full of strong and heavy opinions, so many of them, of all shapes sizes and textures, where do my ambivalent, amorphous, wafting thoughts and ideas stand ?

I think these opinions stalk me.

I wake up and open the newspaper, there they are.

I’m making my hearty breakfast and they come floating in through the window from the neighbours yard, right above my crispy bacon.

I switch on the television and they fill my nostrils.

God forbid if I ever pause at the coffee machine at work for more than a second, they’ll hunt me down.

Without even being mine they weigh me down,crowd my mind.

Everyone else seems so decided on just about everything that moves on this planet.

Why must I remain fluid then?

Maybe I still have more to learn.

Maybe I still have more to see.

Maybe I still have more to hear.

A time will come, when my mind has all the answers I seek, even as I sit aimlessly, perched by the windowsill.

A wise man once said that a glass half empty is much better than when it is too full.

Feelings in transit

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I get the distinct feeling that I am forever pining.
It makes me weary, melancholy,but it is often a sweet pain.
Sometimes it creeps up on me at a coffee shop.
Swirling along with the steam from my mug, flashes of another one shared with someone a long time ago.
It follows me down a familiar street, where our carefree spirits roamed.
Our laughter, ennui and immaturity bringing a knowing smile of rememberance.
It seeps out through a familiar handwriting.
Bringing with it black and white peppered pictures of a faceless someone who made reading something somewhere very special.
An old tattered place that was home, grips my heart with familiarity and joy.
The halls echoing with muted shrieks of laughter and admonishment from loved ones,my heart echoing the deafening silence in the absence of those voices.
A rough old weathered hand makes me think of someone who made me, I want to hold on, never let go.
There is happiness all around, fireworks in the sky. Then why is it that there is a corridor in my heart always trapped in the memories of years gone by.

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