A Rainfall

The cold gust of wind, a jacket wrapped all around the body , a man is walking down the road, a few people come from the other side, they pull at his jacket, tug at his muffler and poke at his existence, he doesn't recognise them! Few things in life come absolutely free, unasked irritation, nagging and pestering also a pinch of jealousy and anxious attacks are included here. Some people go places, like an institution to study, to recognise their abilities in life, unless they come across goons who hate simple living and healthy thinking...the goons don't know the guy either, the guy simply enjoys here the wrath of his existence in that situation, that class and that converts into a tragedy. He can be paraded naked, he can be punched hard all areas without knowing he is human,he can be mentally tortured so as to forget what he primarily had in purpose inside his mind. The time ticks by and only thing he knows is fear and any means to run away or give up. Everything needs a limit

One day Prabhat came out of his house and started walking on the roadside heading towards his office, suddenly his eyes fell on something unusual, a Rs. 500 note was lying infantly on the road, he gazed beside and backwards analysing the anxiety of a yes or no, telling his limbs to be with him. His mind was getting overjoyed by the fact that it was a no mans land and he was a complete winner but still his internal atmospheric thermos was telling him that it may not be a wise decision. It can be anybody's currency, a beggar after a comfortable night snooze off to a new day carelessly maybe. Or a man whose wife has been expecting her husband to get her some smiles back home in the evening. It could even be a father's happiness for his son or even a colleague who had lent him this much in bad times. There maybe many a reason for other's to be happy and deprived as well since they will now know its not there in their pockets. Prabhat scratched his head and felt lonely money may

The clouds have come belated though for yesterday, still we expect some drops to moisten the souls of this dried state, the roads are charred with dry pores opening jaws to gulp down the heavenly blessings of water droplets down the routes of the earthly sutures...there was a sunny morning, blatantly displaying its bright warm teeth, and as time has moved the warmth has transformed into sweat belching heat unbearable to the crying skin...man has moved down stairs, wiped his forehead with that dry kerchief fresh from the hands of that worried wife's hands who had made a breakfast just not tasty enough for her husband this morning. The crowds on the pedestrian path and on the bus and trains are thinking what a place is India...we can overcrowd ourselves yet don't cry a no when we are in the biggest struggle to exist and go forward everyday. Two people, a girl and a boy will fall in love in that weary dusty afternoon in a shady park or a lonely abandoned bus stop and say, oh yeah,

It was the times of the lakes, the trees overlooking the waters and thinking well where has that red fish gone today? When the grasses are telling stories to each other and giggling at the birds who are snoozing in the branches, yawning in the raining morning rays from the bored sun who thinks well, life is sooo monotonous...the boys are walking towards their schools some pelting stones at the innocent quiet waters of the lake and yelling out wishes of the bouncing stone which they might visualise in the afternoon breaks...the clay road is thinking what more weight can we expect today that might distort my surface and make me realign into unknown structurals...the lake is still now waiting for some ripples to happen either from underneath or from the skies and the wretched tree gaping at its natural existence and weathering and dropping into it its dryness as leaves...at times there is a joy and at times it a curse being a part of this world, sometimes we feel that we have earned somet

I wish I can run back to my early days, the days I used to get up early in the mornings brushing my teeth and the other routines just to catch a bus to office or a cab, the pleasures of meeting my office colleagues, becoming busy with the work at hand and going out to lunch together at the one hour break in the afternoons, I wish I can run back to the days when I used to pedal on my cycle slowly and steadily seeing the road run past me and viewing other people get busy reaching the college gates and thinking of a great day of studies and enjoyment together with friends...the rooms of lectures were all we knew togetherness was the penultimate destination of the moments, there used to exchange of notes and fighting over a petty mistake or solving a horribly looking easy numerical in Chemistry...I wish I can run back to the days when getting up early in the morning would only ask me to answer few really silly questions of what would be there in the periods to come in the high school days,

hum doobna chahte thhe par insaan sahara de diya, dushman samajh ke andhere ko gale mila liya, aap hum sab kahin kisidin milenge bichhar jayenge, isi beech me gustakhi hum thhori si kiye jayenge, maaf karna dost yeh sabse hota hai, waqt ke saath saath aayna bhi muh mor leta hai... By Nirmalendu Mukherjee

main aur meri tanhai...yeh lavs kahin suna hoga...raat ke andheri ghar me aankh kabhi bhara hoga...kabhi socha hoga ke waqt humein kya kya naya tasveer dikhate hain...kabhi subah ka suraj kabhi shaam ko gumsum chandni banate hain...koi hasi se muskurahat tak jee jaata hai, koi aansoowon me zindagi bhar pee jaata hai, aise hi zindagi beet jaata hai, ek masoom ungli kabhi bara per bankar chhaya bann jaata hai...By Nirmalendu Mukherjee