CRAZY TALK

CRAZY TALK

I do not remember from when I thought it necessary to calibrate my position in a mentally created continuum between any two states. My present attempt to annotate the same with a confessional monograph is a difficult endeavour because I dwell on incomplete knowledge. Even a simple question to myself like, ‘Am I happy?’ would require an agonizingly long time to decide what should be my answer. The uncertainty is about where to correctly put the dot in the measurement scales. If it were another person’s question, the process gets still harder. There would be the additional consideration about what I want him or her to understand.

There are many differentials. Every part of any dialogue is not necessarily correctly appreciated. Some part of it remains unperceived. This may be unintentional for pure lack of attention or an embarrassing incongruity of intelligence quotients. The vexing fear is of being misunderstood. A few pertinent points are the constraints of vocabulary and convolutions of the thinking process and discrepancies so forth. It is ego-hurting to not being able to make one self clear. There may indeed be such premises where no matter how hard it is tried complete comprehension is never the end result.

At other times, it is a hide-and-seek game. This is to see a person not catching the drift of what was conveyed but not for him or her to understand. The pleasure is in finding out someone who succeeds and employs a counter in tandem.

COLD

COLD


Artwork: by Krishanu Kakati

Rov was down with a forlorn feeling. He also felt old because he was tired and devoid of any energy. He was sitting on his bed wrapped in a blanket to avoid the cold wind blowing into his room through the open windows that also let in the moonlight and the shadow of the withered tree, which happened to be positioned between the far away serene luminescence of the moon and the desolate darkness in Rov’s room, in the witching hour. The branching shadow grew longer every passing minute, until it silently encroached on the bed and then fell upon the motionless form of Rov, hiding under the cover of the impenetrable blanket, his face turned away from the direction of influx of light and wind, and also forming part of the otherwise uniform all-pervading darkness. No feature of his countenance was thus discernible and he lay still in unfathomable pensiveness, in synchrony with the bleak black surrounding which was overwhelming any transferrable resilience against the wishful decadence! It was the “Pinnacle of Solitude!”

THE GUILTY

THE GUILTY

Artwork: by Dr. Krishanu Kakati

Rov woke up worn out with worriment and with a heavy heart that thumped with an unshakeable mysterious feeling which he tried to fathom attempting to bring back to mind all the frames of his unwelcome dream, and only moments ago he was watching from a distance, a particularly fair but pale, almost wraithlike, female form fall to her knees with both her hands tightly pressed against her face to hide wounded emotions she was unwilling to reveal, or maybe otherwise she was trying to prevent searing tears from falling on the carpet of snow she now lay on while Rov wondered if he recognized the visage he was not let to have a look at by the quivering hands and the growing mist slowly engulfing the wistful figure and the seamless horizon, until everything became a uniform evanescent white, except for the dull pink of the dress she wore; a restrained Rov still pondering on the little understood mysterious feeling without being able to reconcile with the vague hint of guilt which he could soak no more!

A Storywriter's E-mail

I write a story and send it to you

Do you want to know if it is true?

In it I speak of events, old and new

Would it delight you if it is true?

Or would I rather screw

Myself if I go through

With this, but I don’t want to rue

To be unable to start anew

Coz I can’t rescue

Myself from my unbridled thoughts, that are not just a few

But many and multiplying and every passing moment accrue

I little understood as time flew

That I took without questions whatever life threw

At me, but as I review

Whatever has passed as I grew

I don’t know if I can speak and be true or untrue…