What I remember, what I forget

So, I will slowly get back to the time we spent in each other's arms, a parallel universe curtained from the rest of the world. I will pick up the memories, now worn off like little white pebbles on the shores of our lives. I remember the moments of bliss, when all I ever needed was lacked, and all I ever lacked was needed and there you were, fulfilling them all.
I remember the moments of hurt when my silent tears seeped deep into your skin, the cool breeze fluttering my hair, your eyes reflecting the stars above.
I remember the moments of peace, when pain numbed the beauty of love, and solace I found in you. I remember the moments of distress, of your smile that made my life smile
I remember moments like this,
And when I remember all that I remember,
I realise, life is but a moment
You wish you could seize...

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Inferno

It's only now that I realise, Decades of mourning will cease no cries. Love and disaster sewn in one, The eternal inferno I was destined to burn. Damaged was I, maybe a little more now Revived regrets into piles, and how! Like dead petunias on the sea afloat, Like blandness of a solitary piano note, I fell apart from the world to endure, The burden of a soul, impure.

'Shree'-rendipity

Most people that I have met in life have found my name intriguing, enigmatic or colloquially what you call a 'jaw-breaker'. Therefore, much to my dissent, my name got conveniently shortened to 'Shreya' or 'Shrey'. It irked me majorly because 'Shreya' is also a different name within the Bengali culture. It felt like an imposition of a person or personality that I were not. Over a period of time overstimulation forced me to accept the fait accompli until, a friend started using the word 'Shree' to address me affectionately. Intuitively, effortlessly and organically I felt like my personality fell in perfect symphony with being called 'Shree', so much so that, subconsciously, I also had started to address myself as 'Shree' soon afterwards. Needless to say, the shift in cultural paradigm as I immigrated from India to USA was vast and diverse. Surprisingly however, it made me cling on desperately to the vestiges of my roots and identi...

Born in a man's world

'Reclaim the night'- As I sit in my cluttered desk in a chilly lab eight thousand miles away from the city, the people and the culture I call my own, thousands of Bengali women are out on the streets of Kolkata protesting for the rape and murder of a resident doctor at RG Kar hospital. How do I feel? Claustrophobic. My eyes are welling up, with every bite sized news that I see my friends posting on the social media. A good advice would be to just shut off that source of stimulation and regain the calm. But you know what the problem is? I have always felt terrible like this whenever there is a crime against women, even in the movies. So much so that, it has become like a version of me that surfaces at adverse circumstances like these. It is so emotionally daunting, that I cannot even explain in words. But why are we so fragile and exploitable as women? Why is the world unfair to us? Do we deserve to be just secondary to the world whereas, if you really think about it, we are th...

Whispers To The Oblivion ...

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