All posts tagged: Mother

A date with Pluto

Lets start from where we ended. For twenty-seven nights, I was the only one living in a wooden balcony that hung facing the jungle on a whole mountain. The moon that I saw on the forehead of a mother in the town, i saw a similar one on my lover. But her eyes were set against the only window the first night. Pink walls. She told me she wants to scream. Now! I said. She smiled. Fire. She kept looking in my eyes and started screaming. I closed my mouth. I opened my eyes. It was winters. It was cold. And you know when it is winters and when it is cold how heavy the rains hit. It confuses the heart. It was sunny next day. Pluto arrived. Nara, let’s go meet the man who sneezes forty times. He does that once daily. We left the two limping dogs behind. It was a beautiful walk. We reached. We sat outside Daulat Ram’s home in his garden on uncomfortable plastic chairs. An old brown cow whose …

Shoes and the Sage

I arrived home. Home is where mother is at least for an Indian traveller. I arrived home after forty four days. When I started I wanted to buy new shoes. I even spent a good second half of the day in trying to get closer to what my wandering feet wanted. I had bought a pair of black trekking shoes in early August but even though there is nothing as such as over walking in the mountains but by the time I finished my journey they seemed done. Any ways I could not find new shoes and left India with the same black shoes. I traveled around Thailand and more so in Cambodia. I came back to Kolkata and while spending my ninth evening in Kashi on Chausathi Ghat I met an old man whom I felt kept looking at my still walking feet as I followed his gaze and later worn out feet. I offered if he would like to use them, winters are here and so is Kumbh. He smiled. These forty days …

Digital mind

The world has long gone past finding comfort for humans. Comfort seems secondary. They might only say it has only started. Facebook and Google will leave no stone unturned to get even the last human trying to hide in his cave to the world. The momentum of the world trade and news constantly travelling is like making too much noise standing. IIam certain the race is not to find god but to become formless while living. One can argue, we are our own god and only us can stop ourselves from doing or not doing. In doing they might have exceeded their own expectations but every achievement is not the end of the story. The story keeps becoming. It is neverending. It merely adds another layer of truth, another variation of the result. How ever much our minds become digital, we are still a long way to forget our mothers.