A Final Embrace: The Most Haunting Photograph from Bangladesh

Photographs are said to be often expressions . This photograph breathed existence . Existence of love beyond death & existence of human ignorance ….
I wouldn’t say it’s well clicked….I would say it’s eloquently haunting .


Love makes Life live….

There are very few things in this universe that actually interest or move a writer / poet. It’s no different with me. For me, things are never like,


WOW! I am so happyyy!!!

OMG!! I feel on top on the world!!!



That’s why when I watched “Aashiqui 2,” my heart skipped a beat. It was like me waking up after a long slumber. Hibernation.

The film was not just another film .

For me , it was my perfect love story. PERFECT. I am not here to review the film or flatter myself by announcing to the world on how outwardly moving I  thought it was. After a very long time, I saw a film that had me crying, not from my eyes, but my soul.

After a very long time, I saw a saga that was based on just love. No bloodshed , no unrealistic promises and no hogwash dialogues . The film hit that chord which no film had strung in a long time in me.

It beautifully spoke of how much and how madly two people can love each other. It elucidated how fragile that feeling is when you see your loved one crumble there in front of you . At some point we all have must seen that or gone through it .

The ethereal moment when Rahul Jayekar confesses his love for Aarohi Shirke .


That feeling of anger when Rahul Jayekar overhears people gossiping on how he used Aarohi for his own fun and frolic, that helplessness when a woman cannot help her man or that man who could not help himself.


Aashiqui 2 is all that. A painful, emotionally loaded drama with music (links below) , or should I say odes to love, that illustrate how love triumphs not only through physical journeys but also often comes out in flying colors through distances or loss.

Sometimes….love doesn’t need presence. All it needs is ………..Aashiqui . 

Here is the link to my personal favourite song(s) :



Parchness of the Soul

Lucid emotions,

Asking for a podium of hearts,

Enabling the viscose of nests,

Hence, the yoke of love ascends.


She chains her wings to halt the flight,

They flap, they tither …

Surely, want to fly.


The reception around her boundaries,

Weakens at the prime

She tends to mold her caricature

But alas, it costs a dime!


Butter her hands,

They have endured deserts parch.

Tingle her heart,

For the placid waters have been calm too long…

Surrendering Hope

These past few days have seen the worst of me, in terms of my mood swings. They have swung like a gong!!

From being irritated to angry to just being pure helpless, I surrendered.


I look back to the times,

Humanity wasn’t a necessity then.

Too good to be true,

It was a practice then.


No broken down hearts,

Not a single tear of deprivation.

The mornings dawned with the sunlight,

All I now scan is the red night of the past.


Where is lost, armistice?

Let those swords adorn the walls,

Those nozzles rust, and

Our souls live.


Adamant I stand for mortality,

My requisite will not halt

Time needs no time,

Those cuckoos have long died !! 

Life…The Way it is…

To say a few words when the time is not right…
To feel a few moments when the days dont go well…
To count the few minutes when the hours fly by…
To cry the few tears when the laughter doesnt come easily…

To apprehend when the mind doesnt think ,
To love when the beloved parts ways,
To hate when the love within is still strong,
To escape when the will to live is much stronger…

To forgive when the wounds are still fresh…
To live when death is in line…
To smile when the tears dont stop…
To be worried when the pleasant happens…

To be alone when the world is with you ,
To be with them and still miss them,
To sleep when the eyes dont want to obey ,
To be awake when the heart and soul just want to sleep ,

Is Life…

Romancing the Trance

The trance of time waved over the limited

She was needed where she was left off

Yet unaware were her tresses,

Of the strong wind that blew past by…

Her lip balm was still wet…

 It’s color, motionless anew.  

 See-through reality,

 A mis-guided reverie,

 Both combined…aaahh what a treasury!




Leave her bosom; he no longer clutches it,

Don’t, her heart, he plain dutches it.


She swears at the sea,

The waves gave her hope,

Her intense words now foul,

His poetry was dope!


If, every tomorrow is a new day,

Let every tonight become nostalgic.

Run your fingers through my hair,

And make this ending tragic….


My hunger had gotten the best of me and amidst unobtrusive and almost dead streets; I swerved my car to the nearest Subway, where upon entering, I saw, what looked like a well-educated man in shorts; ranting away to glory about how the staff had charged him extra for 2 pieces of turkey slices and blabbered on about how he had been coming over to Subway for 8 years, but nobody had dared charge him extra for 2 slices!! His screaming, disgracefully insulting the staff reminded me of this simple fact:

“If we, as civilized humans, cannot treat another human with the same basic respect, what expectation can we keep with ourselves to run our country? Who do we blame if not ourselves?”

This incident happened with me today.

Satyamev Jayate came on air some odd 8-9 weeks back and awakened the ME in myself.

Like every other emotionally drained Indian, I had a lot of expectations with the show, with Aamir Khan.

I could hear whispers …. Silent musings and often ignorant comments:

“Salman bhi aaya, Shahrukh bhi , ab Aamir toh aayega hi na.”


“Another TRP Hungry show!!”


“ Isko kya deshbhakti ka bhoot chad gaya .”


Everybody was talking. Curiosity killed the cat and it ate us up too.

On May 6th 2012, when it debuted on TV, with it’s baby steps on Female Foeticide, SMJI , had managed to subtly but bluntly crush my conscience . It had done nothing new, nothing novel. The show was just showing me a different angle of what news channels had stuffed down my throat from the past I-don’t-know-how-many-decades.

Female Foeticide!

Untouchability .

Old age




These issues were not new ….these problems didn’t germinate today and neither did their victims. They were there…always there. Just not exposed. Never spoken about or rather, spoken to

Our holy books talk about Untouchability.

Our culture still thrives on the fact that it is the Son who carries the family forward. The daughter is just to be passed on from one to the other.

No matter how modern we say we are, but “HUM AAJ BHI BETIYO KO KHAALI HAATH VIDA NAHI KARTAY.” If that’s not dowry, what is!! 

 I, as an Indian, was sick of it. I, as an Indian, was handicapped. I, as an Indian, felt that what I, alone could do.

Satyamev Jayate entered as the perfect guru in my life. It taught me that like every   country that had problems, within those concerns, were people who may look miniscule to the outside world, but they, had made gigantic contributions to the society around them.

For them, the paparazzi didn’t count. They did not need any blah news channel to  propagate them to finish their task.

Satyamev Jayate was the epic saga of those individuals who believed that if one has ONLY determination to change, they could.

SMJI made me realise I could do that too.

For some, the show became a Daily Sunday morning ritual. For me, it was my Sunday night prime time. A 1.5 hour long reality show, where reality was shown as it is. No editing or tweaking promos & no over-the –top “Maine tumhari chaddiyaan tak dhoyi hain .” Excellent research supported with current figures, a heart-warming chat session and extracting what was missing within us. AWARENESS.

Yes, I agree that the show dwelled on what is most dear to us Indians, our emotions. Aamir Khan knew the quintessential manner to manipulate them and he did. I thank him.

We needed this jerk. We needed a brain teaser to actually shake us up and tell us,


“If Dasrath Manjhi can single-handedly carve a 360-foot-long (110 m), 25-foot-high (7.6 m) and 30-foot-wide (9.1 m) road by cutting a mountain of Gehlour Hills with a hammer, chisel and nails working day and night for 22 years from 1960 to 1982, reducing the distance between Atri and Wazirganj blocks of Gaya District from 70 km to just 7 km, all for his wife. I can do it too”

“If one little girl can tell her mother, what her uncles did to her. You or I can too.” 

The problem with SMJI was just one. It forced me to think. Made us realise, sitting in our sofas or bean bags that there are people who may not have the comforts we have, but surely, have a more meaningful life than us.

The problem with SMJI was just one. It made me understand that no matter how many issues we have, how many different troubles surround us; a small step can bring about a huge change.

Take the case of that 70 year old lady rifle shooter. Her old age gave her a new hobby. I am only 27, and sometimes I am already bored of my surroundings.

For many journalists , SMJI came as a shocker. Aamir Khan was doing what they failed to achieve. He was digging out the dirt that many Sagarika Ghosh’s or even Deepak Chaurasia’s couldn’t do in these years… His whole planogram was just to wake up the India – emotionally or physically, that was just whiling away their time munching on caramelised popcorn in those multiplexes!

I can writhe my frustration through my words…somebody else can through music…Aamir did it through our inner nerves.

Let’s not wait for a time when the only “I” we can relate to is our “i” Phone!!!