Today, I feel like

Today, I feel like a tissue paper
Held close,
Fresh and delicate
And then?
Pulled out frantically,
Used viciously
And thrown into the bin,
Not to return again.

Today, I feel like a tissue paper
Always in reach, yet kept far!

Today, I feel like a door mat
Costliest in mart
Laid across, to welcome all
And then?
Whoever passes by,
Clean shoes and walk on
Keeps filth out,
Not to come indoors.

Today, I feel like a door mat
Hospitable, open and smudged with dirt.

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Deep, Flamboyant, Calm

Your smile endures love
That drips from your lovely lips
Your eyes soothe my soul
DEEP, FLAMBOYANT, CALM
Your eyes soothe my soul
That drips from your lovely lips
Your smile endures love

Written for NaiSaiKu Challenge – October 2010

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Eye

Eager to know thee
Yondering death coming close
Earth still, is my home

Acrostic Haiku written for Acrostic Only
The Earth is nearing its end and I can see death at a distance; however, I still want to know more and more about my Earth, my home.

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Granny's Bunny (Match)

My age old granny
And her snow white bunny
They make the best pair
Chasing each other's hair
Having left with no any


Acrostic Limerick Written for Acrostic Only
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Into the Graveyard (Little Bile - Part II)

[Characters: Bile (pronounce as Bee-lay)]

Bile was walking on the wet roads in Kolkata, almost unnoticed, with the rainbow colored umbrella in hand and tiny steps taking him nowhere, but away from the cold, dark and silent house. The road was bustling, but quieter than usual days, when he comes out to go to school. He walked alone – slowly, but surely enough not to return again!

The umbrella was not heavy for him, but the slippers were. They were already wet and he was not able to walk wearing them. He looked around and after assuring that none was watching him, he bent down, took both the slippers and threw them into the drain, over the culvert. He bent down to see them float atop the drain water, which suddenly became livid with the morning rain. He walked past the culvert and the big stinky drain and he left the bakery behind. Mom never let him cross this drain. Never would Dad take him there. Bile always wanted to know what there might be, waiting to be explored. Today, he would not stop for anyone. He walked slowly, but surely enough not to stop until he is made to. The roads were slippery, in this sorry Sunday morning, with the morning rain all over the place. His bare feet would not grip well and he was slipping almost with every step.

He walked down the street. The sky was already clear by now – after the rains, it looked as blue as never before. The road narrowed in and was almost swallowed by those big, heavy and hefty iron gates. He never saw such a scene, when he got inside those gates. There was a big field around him and in front of him as much as he could see; with trees on it, spaced far from each other. The place was covered with tall green grass and there were big stones and wooden planks standing on the ground – some side by side, whereas a few, afar. He could relate this place to a picture he saw in his books – this place must be a Graveyard!

Bile ran in. He was very happy. For the first time in his life, he saw a graveyard – neither did he plan for this to happen nor was it allowed. The wet grass was cutting down his pants and his bare feet smelt like heaven. He could feel it. He could touch the earth, play with the tall grass and jump over the gravestones – for the first time. He felt like a king there. The umbrella was the only thing he knew with no living thing around him. He was tired and he lied down on the wet grass. Little droplets of water and a few torn grass pallets stuck to his body, all over. He was getting dirty, one thing Mom would not like at all. But he cared not. The view of the clear blue sky through the tall grass, below the gravestone was something little Bile never tasted. He saw the white clouds hover above him and the gravestone was a perfect ally to play hide and seek with. He was happy, in this sorry Sunday morning. He forgot everything that happened back home, when he woke up today. There was nothing much to remember, though. He was enjoying his time here. He could still feel the rain drops, the grass and the earth on his little bare feet and the smell of the wet grass on his hands. The milieu was silent, calm and he would here his own heart beat. As the morning breeze blew over his dreamy and sleepy eyes, he felt serenity. He held on to the umbrella and closed his eyes. He could not tell, when he fell asleep, behind the gravestone, lying on the wet grass on this sorry Sunday morning.

Part III (The Stranger)
... to be continued

Image Source
Part I
Written For: Thursday Tales

...
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A phone call

‘I told you, I do not know you. I never knew you. And I never left you. Neither did I want to leave you. You were the one who left – you left without notice, without a word and without a reason. I would have never stopped calling you, if you would have answered my calls. I would have never stopped mailing you if you would have ever returned an email to me. Did you even check my mails? Ever?

‘I was a fool. I have always been one. I waited for you – even when you never turned up. I wrote to you, even after not receiving a single reply for months. I called your ever busy or ‘out-of-reach’ number only to end up with the voice mail – you never called back – I waited.’

‘But Mrinal, I called you today.’

‘Yes, you called me – today, after nine long years. Where were you all these years? What were you doing? Did you not remember me for a single moment? How could you stay away for such a long time and not try to contact me. Why did not you call me all these years? And why suddenly, out of nowhere, on this silly, gloomy, cursed Thursday morning? Why are you calling me today?’

‘Yes Mrinal, I called you today to tell you something. Something I could never tell you and I wish you to hear this now. I am…’

‘What do you have to tell now? I know… I know it all. I do not want to hear about your kids’ school days; nor am I interested to know about your husband’s foreign trip. I do not want to get invited to your child’s birthday party and I do not want to know about the big bungalows that you and your husband might have bought over the years.

‘Look Tina, I am a very busy man now. And I am not sure whether you care or not, but I really do not have any time to stick to this call at present. I am very sorry, if I am being rude, but this is just what I would like to be now. I do not think I am anyone to listen to any of the nonsense that you might plan to tell me here. I have had enough of all these. I have lost my sleep and many a nights thinking over you and your talks. I have learnt a lesson on my own and thank you for teaching me that. Right now, I am going to office and I do not have the luxury to spend more time on this call.’

‘Please Mrinal. Please spare a couple of minutes for me.’

‘Don’t make your voice wear that phony rag of sorrow. That would not do any good anymore. These crocodile’s tears may be good for your friends, who would also cry along with you – not me! And before I cut this line off, I would like you to know that I would not expect any further call from you on this number. Hope there is enough courtesy left in you to make you understand this – straight and clear. Goodbye!’

Mrinal banged the phone on the receiver and rushed out of the house. Nishi never saw her husband raged like this earlier. She ran behind with his lunch box and could only push it through the rising glass windows of his Maruti. Mrinal zoomed away, leaving Nishi alone in the house for the entire day, yet again. She came back and shut the door behind her, probably with a deep breath and a couple of drops on her cheeks and thinking about the long day, until Mrinal returns from the office. She went passed the telephone; took the woolen cover and covered it to avoid deposition of dust – knowing absolutely nothing about the conversation that the telephone witnessed. She did not want to know – she would never dare and try to know either.

Three months passed.

‘Hey Nishi, where is today’s newspaper? If you are done with that, may I also have a look into it, for some time? I guess this is the only day in the week that I can lay my hands on it. So, please darling, if you have gone through it and mugged up every damn article in the classified pages, please get that paper here on my table – right now!’

Nishi ran out from her kitchen, as if the world is going to end the next moment and collected the newspaper from the balcony. She ran again and got the paper on the dining table within a flash, where her husband was taking a deep sip into the coffee mug. His eyes, were as red as ever; his voice was as rough as ever and his hands and shoulders were shivering with anger – as ever. She kept the paper on the table and left, looking downwards and thanking God, that he did not utter anything else; she knows for sure that he will not utter anything else until he finished reading the newspaper in whole. That hour would be her hour of having a happy weekend with her family!

‘Thanks a bunch!’ he murmured.

After almost an hour of reading the newspaper and going through all those unnecessary things happening around him, whom he wants to alter and align but never tried, Mrinal finally fixed his eyes on this small four by four obituary note. The note said that the deceased was a woman in her early thirties, who was fighting valiantly against breast cancer for more than a decade. She worked in the cancer relief charity association of the state, since she was diagnosed positive with this lethal disease. She gave up her entire lifetime, fighting and helping others to fight against cancer. The gratifying association could do nothing more than publishing this note in the paper and urging her family members to mourn on her ill-timed death – who left her in the association, in the fear of catching that disease themselves. The association, which had both elderly and mid-aged people, who were also left behind by their families and loved ones to die this slow but inevitable death, could do nothing but pray for the peace of her soul. The note also had the picture of the dead – of someone whom Mrinal knew – closely, for years. It was Tina, his college friend turned lover, whom he could not marry, partly because his father wanted him to marry Nishi, the daughter of his friend from the village and he could not give up his father’s dynasty; and partly because Tina chose to be away from him; lost in the darkness, which this unfortunate disease brought to her.

He read the whole note more than a few times and checked the picture minutely. He could not know when the paper fell down from his hands; nor could he realize that a few drops of tears have accumulated near the corner of his eyes.

Probably now, Mrinal knows what Tina wanted to say on that last phone call that she made to him.

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Little Bile

[Characters: Sumanta (pronounce as Shoo-mon-to), Kruti (pronounce as Kroo-tee), Bile (pronounce as Bee-lay)]

Part 1

“You better go and wash your face in a pot full of shit!”
“Oh, get lost! You do not even have a face to wash anywhere.”
“I know what I need to do. Just do not bother me again!”
“Fine, I’m leaving!”
Sumanta slammed the door behind him.
“Ya, go! Damn you! I’m leaving too!”
Kruti too slammed the door behind her and left.

It has been an hour since they left. The house has been silent, motionless and noiseless too since then. The light in the bedroom was glowing. The kitchen tap was probably open, contravening the silence. The living room was dark, cold and at sixes and sevens. Nothing moved – the door, the curtains, the chairs, the fan, the remote, the sofa and little Bile on it. Nothing moved. Bile is Sumanta and Kruti’s eight year old son. He did not understand a single thing that his parents talked about. He was always quiet since morning, when his mother, wake him up in this sorry Sunday morning. He could feel the rain pouring on the terrace and on the balcony. Did his parents take umbrellas with them? He does not know and never in his life had he given an umbrella to his parents while they go out. He was not responsible for that ever! However, today, for a change, he woke up, brushed his teeth, took bath, got dressed up, ate the piece of bread and drank the glass of milk – all by himself. Nobody had to run behind him for each of these daily chores. In fact, none had the time to run behind him today, since it was a sorry Sunday morning. His parents did not have time to look at him today, because they were always cursing and shouting at each other since they opened their fiery eyes. Bile has been a good boy today. He was going through all these chores one by one keeping an eye on his parents – their fists – their high raised voices – their curses until the door banged twice as they moved out of the house. Since then, he sat there, on the sofa knowing not what to do. The sofa gave him some comfort and he almost felt asleep. Probably the rain drops on the terrace kept him awake – he somehow, likes the sound of those drops – synchronized, consistent and inexorable. It has been an hour since his parents slammed the door and left for nowhere!

He was terrified by their behavior today. He was afraid if he would see the faces of his parents again. He was too small to even think what could be the consequences of this sorry Sunday morning. He wanted to cry, but there was none around to comfort or commiserate him. Hence, he did not. He wanted to sleep, since the sofa was too comfortable and he was feeling cold in that dark living room. He was somewhat happy that he was alone in the house and he could do absolutely anything with nobody around to stop him; but he had nothing special to do. He did not plan anything ahead of time. He was feeling clueless too, with a little doubt that the door would bang open once again and his parents might comeback with those false grins on their faces, like always.

Bile spent another hour, sitting on the sofa, with eyes fixed at the door which never opened. The rain has stopped by now. Still, the drops from the leaves were making that sound on the terrace – every other second. He just wanted to cry out aloud and wished to scream to someone; only if there were anyone to hear him and attend to him. He stretched his legs – they were jammed, sitting in that one position for so long a time. This was the first thing that moved in two hours. Slowly Bile got down from the sofa, still watching the door and hoping it would open. But nothing! He stood there for some time, to decide what to do. He could not! He walked to the kitchen to see if the tap was really open. He peeped in. Yes! It was open no doubt, but he was the last person in the house who could reach atop the sink to turn the tap the other way. He just left it as it was – dripping. He looked around. The house was almost haunting to him. The walls seem to squeeze in, reducing the space he had for himself – the whole house! He was still feeling cold, and may be a little hungry too. He went to his room, quietly, as if he was punished for making noise while walking in his own room. He saw the umbrella which his father bought him from the last mela but he could never use it since it did not rain as it is raining now. Quietly enough, he picked up the rainbow colored umbrella and slipped into the slippers and walked towards the main door.

Part 2

“He is tall. He is black. She is combing her hair. He is running for the bus. She is lovely. They are students. She is talking over the mobile. She is wearing a saree. He is riding a bicycle. He is riding a bike. She is making signs to him. They are waiting for the tram. She is busy. He is smart. Those are talking to each other.”

Bile was walking on the wet roads in Kolkata, almost unnoticed, with the rainbow colored umbrella in hand and tiny steps taking him nowhere, but away from the cold, dark and silent house. The road was bustling, but quieter than usual days, when he comes out to go to school. He walked alone – slowly, but surely enough not to return again!

… To be continued.

[To my readers: I know I am not writing much these days and I apologize to all those who await my posts here. Lately, a lot of stories came to my mind which I failed to put down in black and white. This one, is one of the best thoughts that came to my mind and I would love to write this one – long and completely. Part 2 has just started. Will post the same in time! Thanks for your love and support. That is what keeps me going on.]

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Angel in Jail

In that lonely night
The moon was out of sight
I searched for it in the dark
But I could find no light.

Shackles all around me
Made me smoke, you see
Here I was in the prison,
Waiting for death to be.

Was sitting for long, it seems
Lost in my crummy dreams
As you walked in, I saw
Light coming in beams.

Never knew when you were here
You smiled at me and raked your hair
In those narrow rays of light
You could not see me stare.

The twinkling stars started to dance
The milieu filled with romance
My heart lost a beat somewhere
I fell in love for once!

With my hands tied to the iron
I could rise and call none
In the messy walls around me
I could feel, you're the one.

Never knew, when you left
Neither my eyes nor hands deft
In this lonely captive night
Never thought that love may cleft.

Your face glowed under the veil
I tried to call, but I failed
And one more night just passed
Death came closer, inside the jail!
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Love is Life

Its Life that brings us together

Its Love that binds us together

Love this Life

Live your Love

For, Life Alone is Beautiful!

Cross posted at: The Writers Lounge

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Logout (on the other side)

It was another wrathful weekend and I was stuck to my bedside holding unto the computer keyboard for almost 12 hours. There is nothing to do – not anymore. It has been a long time since he left and it has been long enough that his absence has become a habit. I was not bothered much; why would I? Nobody is bothered about me; why would I be bothered about anyone else? I work now; not like olden days when he used to earn and I used to cook for him. How damn fool I was – how I wasted my life with that nincompoop! I look back and want to slap myself. Anyways, that is past now. I am what my present tells me to be.

We married with lots of hope in our eyes – away from the families on our own all the way. We were kids that time, but we walked together. Life was a challenge and we were forced to experience loss every other moment. Still, we had love to bind us together, I guess! But with time, it withered too. The plant of our dreams wilted in front of our own very eyes. Sometimes, he did not water it sometimes, I faltered – and it wilted. Then one day, when we both ‘grew up’ and we become ‘practical’ and ‘down to earth’, we ‘understood’ that our ways would not meet again soon! It was like a railway track crossing – we were happy as the two tracks were coming close to each other and as they crossed, the distance kept on increasing forever; never to meet again. After years of being married, we realized we should not have come close at the first place. How ridiculous! And if it was so, why did I not think about it all these years? Probably, the best days of my life, that were now lost!

Anyways, we parted. And it was only for good. He never looked back – he is a man of his words, I know! He would not look back. If he would not, why should I? Why should I keep on waiting for him? He would come online but never say a ‘Hi’; but still I spend every futile weekend of mine on chat messengers – just to see if he is online. I used to ping him at times, but he never replies. So, I login invisible to him. He knows I will be online this time – but he would not ever ping me back.

WTF! What am I thinking about? Its late into the weekend night and I must be drinking more than usual that I’m getting all these worthless thoughts in my head. This life is good – no one to ask questions – none bothered for you and the best of it all, no one for whom you should be bothered! I could not go back to my family – nor could I commit something foolish. I went ahead and caught that highly paid and easily available job for me. It is a pleasure at work and I am the boss of my own coins.

I clicked on Logout and realized the world has turned a deaf ear to me. I am no longer living to anyone, anywhere. I logged in long ago and was seeing him online on messenger all the time. I had to logout and I did. He was always online, but he never said, “Hi.” Oh, damn him! Damn me! Damn these worthless thoughts of mine!

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Logout

I clicked on Logout and realized the world has turned a deaf ear to me. I am no longer living to anyone, anywhere. It was another wrathful weekend and I was stuck to my bedside holding unto the computer keyboard for almost 12 hours. I had to logout and I did. She never came online!

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Is This It?

Is this what you want me to do?,
Is this the life I should live?
I just want to ask you, O God,
Is this what I should believe?

You make me see things that I don't want to see
You show me a path I would never walk on
Still, you ask me to walk blindfold,
Will you hold me if I fall down?

I'm afraid for the first time in life
I'm afraid that I would have to do it,
Life's so scuffled and I'm so hapless
I'm afraid that I would have to quit.

There was a time, when all was mine
And I was the king of my dreams,
Life was heaven with light and music
But now, everything is so dark gleams!

Its so that I feel dull and dead already,
I dont see a ray of light anywhere,
There are not many I can cling to, to live
But I still hope, O God, You are there.

So, I'm writing this to you in hope
Maybe, you can bring some peace to me,
You know, it not at all fair and
Death should not come like this to me!
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Valentine in love

Alone at home
Nothing to do and I am bored
Come back home soon
I’ve been waiting all day…
Come and take me in your arms
Or kiss me, if you may
As midnight strikes, we’ll be together
And celebrate Valentine’s Day!

It’s been long since you’re gone
And I am just killing time just like that,
Talking to friends – old and new
Rushing through time on chat.

I’ve no plans for tomorrow
And I’m already feeling so blue,
I know you’d not say nothing
But I leave it again, to you.

Let’s plan a day, together
I’d cook and be good, if you say
We’ll do all the things that you want
And celebrate our Valentine’s day.

Let this be another day in life
When, we fall in love again
We’ll prove to this ignorant world
Love is immortal and no feign.

My love for you will always be there
Less than tomorrow, more than yesterday,
I promise again, my beloved wife
I will love you forever and a day!
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Ujaalon ki or

Ujaalon ki or, badho sajnaa
Dil ki raho me, badho sajnaa
Haath me liye sachhai ki deepak
Andheron se dur, chalo sajnaa...

Chalo sajnaa, usi raha par
Jahan dhoop ho, chhayaa bhi ho
Jahan meet ho, jahan preet ho
Jahan geet ho, gungunate chalo
Chalo sajnaa, us mod taq
Jo aaye to bas, to hi jeet ho
Jahan sur aur saaz eksaath chale
Sargam hi naa ho, sangeet bhi ho...

Andheron se tum ghabrana nahi
Andherein to pag pag saath chalein
Apni shraddha rakkho ujaalon ki or
Aur chalte raho, jahan dil le chale...

Badho sajnaa, usi path par
Jahan kaatein ho, phool bhi ho
Sirf moti na ho, sirf manzil na ho
Jahan badalon si garm dhool bhi ho
Badho sajnaa, dil ki raho pe tum
Roshni ka jahan ek jhalak bhi dikhe
In andheron se dur badhte jaao
Jahan chaaro taraf ujaalaa hi ho...

I will always love you

There is so much I want to say
There is so much I hide
But one thing is true
There cannot be a life without you
And that, I will always love you

No matter how far you are
No matter the distance in between
I will fly to you, when You need me
There nothing that you have to do
Just know, I will always love you

People will come and go in life
Someone will come to stay
You will not need me then, anymore
Then, I will leave as I came to you
But still, I will always love you...

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Summer Rain

Sun scorched day
Umbrella fared high
Molten ice-cream soothed
Mizzle intensified abruptly
Effused respite cordial
Rain drenched earth

Rejuvenated all life
All at once
It rained again
Not to stop

Written For: Acrostic Only, Jan 2010 #8
Acrostic with 3 Words per Line

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Kaash aysa ho

Kaash aysa ho, ke mujhe tu yaad kare
aur meri yaad tujhe sone naa de,
ek dusre ki bahon me bitayein hue wo haseen lamhe
tujhe yaad aye, aur sone naa de.

kaash aysa ho, ke main tujhe yaad ayun
har ahat pe tujhe lage ke main hun yehin kahin
har dhadkan se tujhe mere hone ka ahsaas ho
aur wo ehsaas tujhe saari raat, sone na de.

tere ankhon me base hue hain, jo mere khwab
tu unko palkon taq aane kyon nahi deti,
tere dil me mujhse milne ki hai jo junoon
tu use haqikat me badalne kyon nahi deti?

kyon nahi kehti ke tujhe bhi mujhse pyar hai?
kyon nahi kehti ke ye duriyaan tujhe bhi tadpati hain,
bilakti, sulaghti hogi tu bhi mere judaai me
apne aap ko mujhme samane kyon nahi deti?

kaash aysa ho, ke tu yaad kare wo haseen pal
jo humne saath guzare the, ankhon ankhon me
wo din jo jhilmilaye the kabhi apne saath
wo raatein jo humne bitaye the, baaton baaton me.

kaash aysa ho, ke mujhe tu yaad kare
aur meri yaad se teri ankhen bhar ayein
bhari ankhein ho jaaye bojhal humari sapno se
aur tu soye. jaagna na pade tujhko aur raaton me...

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Manmauji

Manmauji Manmauji
saade dil vich hai jo anand
us anand ko vekko ji
saade dil vich hai jo pyar
us pyar ko vekko ji

mere pehle bhi kitne ayein
mere baad bhi ayenge
jo bole so nehal hove
"Sat Shree Akaal" boloji
Manmauji Manmauji

dil me kuch jubaan me kuch aur
dhoka khud ko na dena
jo hai Allah wohi rakhwala
"Allah hu Akbar" boloji
Manmauji Manmauji

kehat Kabir suno bhai saadho
paap man me na le ana
bhatke hue ko rah dikhave
man me "Ram" boloji
Manmauji Manmauji

Manmauji Manmauji
thwade dil vich hai jo jasba
us jasba ko vekko ji
thwade dil vich bhi hai pyar
us pyar ko vekko ji

inna sara pyar hai dil vich
kade taan wo bhi vekko ji
Manmauji Manmauji...

---

I've put this one in English script to enable my readers, who do not know how to read Hindi. I want more people to read it; and I believe the message in this poem cannot wait until they learn the Hindi script! May put it in Hindi Script in sometime too...

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Agartala – the development in news

“Indian Airlines welcomes you to Singarbil Airport, Agartala. The outside temperature is 22 degrees centigrade and the captain feels it’s quite comfortable. Please do not try to open the overhead lockers until the plane comes to a complete stall. This might harm you or your fellow passengers. We thank you for travelling with Indian Airlines and we hope you will travel with us soon. We wish you a pleasant stay in Agartala.”

At last, the plane stopped and we landed fine. As soon as I came out of the front door, I waved goodbye to the beautiful airhostess, turned outwards and took a deep breath. Ah! The whiff of my land filled my lungs. I have fewer words to describe the feeling of it. I was coming back after almost four years and I alone knew how much I missed it.

After checking out with the baggage, I was surrounded by a horde of car and auto drivers. The first signs; so uncommon about Agartala! For a moment, it did not feel like my own land! Anyways, I took an auto after twenty minutes of bargain and only after deciding upon a price which I thought should be enough for the ride home.

The ride was not so good. I mean, I did not feel I was in the same place where I spent most of my years! Agartala had changed so much since I left it that it gives me an impression as if the aero plane went back to Guwahati instead of landing in Agartala. The roads were widened; the shops were pushed back; the footpaths were fabricated and there were small saplings planted all through the road till I reached home. One might question the objective of the authorities, but all I felt was an improvement – a step towards development of the capital which had never been of priority to the government. I liked it.

After reaching home, I took recess for rest of the day. The cool bath in my own shower and a neck-fill lunch allowed me to do nothing more but sleep. So, I went upstairs and slept in the terrace. When I woke up, it was almost dark and the quirking crickets were shouting at the peak of their voice, as if they were welcoming my return. Only then, I felt I was back – home! The sound of crickets and the dancing fireflies in the middle of the city can only be experienced in Agartala, and nowhere else, I believe.

Agartala is the capital of one of the seven sisters of north east – Tripura. Tripura is a land that was never under British rule. This is why I say that Tripura is a virgin state (LOL). The ancient state takes up a huge area including some districts of Assam, Meghalaya, Mizoram and Bangladesh and it was ruled by Tripuri Kings or Twipra Dynasty for almost 2500 years. On October 15, 1949 Tripura was merged with independent India. The state lost lion’s share of its area to Bangladesh during partition of East Pakistan and India. Tripura became a centrally administered Union Territory on July 1, 1963 and attained the status of a full-fledged state on January 21, 1972. Agartala, the capital city of the state is where I was born. I have travelled across the length and breadth of India extensively during my school, college and post graduation days and no place could fascinate me more than my own little piece of land.

The next morning I carried my age old bicycle to the nearest puncture shop (well, most of the shops here were either ‘puncher’ or ‘pancar’ shops all these years, but somehow, all of them had suddenly learnt the right word, it seemed!) to mend it. The bicycle is still a perfect ride for the city. The total city area does not go more than 60 Sq. Km and you can still travel from one corner to the other just by handing over a five rupee coin! Everything is in the vicinity. You need not travel more than 12 hours to reach any of your relatives residing in any part of the state. At present, with the inception of railways (after 61 years of independence) the travel time has reduced even more.

The bicycle ride to the only railway station in Agartala illustrated many changes in the city. I intentionally took the longer route and met many of my old friends and relatives on the way. By the time I reached the station it was noon and there were no trace of any engine. Alas! I was excited hoping to see an engine for the first time in Agartala, but could not. The railway station itself has been built in a way to depict old palaces. The look of the white station gate gave a tremendous feeling. We all were waiting for it since childhood when the then railways minister promised to get Agartala connected to the rest of India. And when it happened, most of us were not present here in Agartala. Anyways, the very sight of the railway tracks and the platforms gave me immense pleasure. I came back.

The current Agartala is situated not far from the old and original one, called “Purano Agartala” or “Old Agartala.” One can still see the erections of the ancient kings who ruled the state in Purano Agartala. One of the main temples of Tripura where the traditional Kharchi Puja is celebrated is situated in this place. Many other small and big temples can be seen there that depict the engineering and art of ancient Tripuri Kings. However, the main palace, called the Ujjayanta Raajprashaad is situated in modern day Agartala and the city is built up all around it.

While travelling back home, I thought of getting into the market place – Kaman Choumuhani and Hawker’s Corner. The moment I entered the area, my eyes went ablaze! What was there that I am seeing? Big shopping malls have come up in place of small chain of shops and the roads are not covered with shop less hawkers anymore. There were parking made for cars and bicycles and the whole place was glowing and bustling like a metro! The changes what I saw around me left me awestruck; but for the people around me, nothing at all! Maybe they were more adaptive or practical or mature. Whatever it was, I was in no mood to think about them. People change as the environment and the society they live in changes. I know, I know!

On the way back, I cycled passed my school, the hospital that I was born in, the Motor Stand, the South and North Gates to the palace compound, the Astabal Maidan, the Buddha Mandir, the Governor’s house and the Malancha Nivas, where Kabiguru Rabindranath Thakur used to stay. My school building was demolished and a big palace stands in its place now. The place near Buddha Mandir had grown up to a satellite market place. Governor’s house remained a mystery with its high raised guarding walls as we could never peep into it and see what is there to be seen. Renovation works on Malancha Nivas were still going on. A few roads were being re-laid and the smell of tar and charcoal filled the air. Sight of the circuit house, road towards Bholagiri Ashram’s field and the age old Kunjavan Quarters gave me pleasant hindsight of the olden days. Some things never change and I was happy that they do not. By the time I reached home, it was dark and Maa scolded me after years and I promised within to be late for each of the rest days of my tour.

The stay in Agartala came out to be pleasant as wished by the airhostess earlier. I could not travel to different parts of Tripura, and relished my excursions into my native – felt like old wine in a new bottle! There are many places one can visit when in Tripura – the Tripureshwari Kaali Bari, Neermahal, Shipahi Jala animal resort and zoo, Unokoti Mountains containing idols of 33 crores Hindu Gods and Goddesses inscribed on rocks, Pilak and many more small but historically irreplaceable places. Due to shortage of time, I could not visit any of those; but I browsed through the paths and roads of Agartala to my heart’s content. The next time I go there, I am sure to see many more changes, developments and shifts in overall beauty of the city but I am confident on one thing – how much ever they change Agartala, I will know it as much as I have always known and it will love me as much as it always does!

Phew! Nostalgic Agartala!
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Its almost a work of fiction, as I have not visited the place for 2 years, 11 months and 16 days; however, the facts are all true as I got to see the photos and experiences that my friends and relatives have shared with me. When I go there now, it will not be much different!
Was thinking where I should put thie writeup - in this blogor my regular blog. Then, since I have not actually gone there in years, I felt this is the right place for this to be... Hope you enjoyed...
Pics above:
1. Tourism Map of Tripura.
2. Railway Station, Badharghaat.
3. Ujjayanta Palace.
4. Neermahal, Melaghar.

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