My short story "Her favorite pupil" is a part of Writersmelon's Jukebox!

How does it feel when one of your favorite authors writes the foreword of the book that you are a part of? How does it feel to be one of the 15 winners of a nationwide writing competition? Fascinating. Exciting. Fabulous. 

That's what I felt when I saw that Preeti Shenoy has written the foreword of Jukebox, a collection of 15 winning short stories of Melonade, a nationwide writing competition organized by WritersMelon. Melonade, 2016 was judged by a panel of eminent writers, one of them was Preeti Shenoy.  

My association with WritersMelon is a long one. I have been reviewing books for them since 2015. I appreciate the wonderful platform that they provide to authors and bibliophiles to showcase their talent and promote their work. 

When WritersMelon announced their nationwide writing competition "Melonade" in 2016, I couldn't stop myself from taking part in it. I wrote a short story titled Her favorite pupil which is about the relationship that a speech-impaired student shares with his mentor. It is about the teacher's unwavering faith in her student and how the student restores that faith after fifteen long years.

Sometimes all we need in life is a person who has faith in our potential and talent much more than we have in ourselves. Faith is truly magical. It can move mountains. 

This short story is very close to me as I have seen such a relationship between a teacher and a student where the teacher's faith gave the student the courage to chase his dreams. My paternal uncle runs a deaf and dumb school. I have seen him working day and night on speech impaired children and change some of their lives. 

I was thrilled when I learned that my short story Her favorite pupil is one of the 15 short stories that will feature in the anthology by WritersMelon. The book is edited deftly by Priyanka Roy Banerjee and it was amazing ti share writing space with some very talented writers. Jukebox is the 10th anthology that I am a part of. 

Jukebox is divided into 3 sections: 
-Spine Chilling Drama and Suspense
-Quirky, funny and awkward moments
-Poetic love of hopeless romantics

As a reader, I am having a great time savoring these winning stories. I am sure you will have a great time reading this book too. As WritersMelon say, it is a book about life choices that will compel you to think about the choices that you have made in your life. 

Check out the trailer and grab your copy! I am sure you will enjoy the reading experience. 

"The true alchemists do not change lead into gold; they change the world into words."~William H. Gass

On loss, changes and adapting to them

Isn't life a series of painful losses? We lose some people to death and some people to life (misunderstandings, ego, destiny). 

The more we love a person, the more the loss affects us. The pain becomes so unbearable at times that life seems like a merciless struggle to cope up with the losses that life throws at us in the most unexpected times. 

Yes, there are gains too. There are blissful moments of togetherness and love when we laugh so loudly that tears roll down our eyes.

There are cuddles that are so tight that the feeling lingers on long after. Within the blinking of eyes, those moments become memories of beautiful moments spend with our loved ones. And I believe only those memories prevent us from drowning in the sea of life. We stay afloat, clinging to the memories in our heart and believing that our loved ones are there with us, even if we can't see them. We can still feel them even when they are not around. 

Life is unpredictable and changes are an uninvited visitor 

Last month, my life changed completely as I lost someone whom I had loved more than my mother. In fact, she was the mother figure of my life. My grandmother, my darling Dida, who had loved me unconditionally and had raised me after my mother passed away when I was twelve. She was my mom, my granny, my sister and my best friend. Yes, she played all these roles in my life with deftness. And losing her was like losing a huge piece of my heart. 

The only consolation that I could give myself was that she got relief from the unbearable pain. It was arduous to see her every day writhing in pain in front of my eyes. She suffered for one whole month. She had a brain stroke. It was heart wrenching to see her battling with the loss of memory and tremendous pain due to secondary infections. She was at home for the last 14 days and I feel blessed that I could care for her like a baby. I got the chance to mother her for those 14 days. 

My grandmother was a very fit lady who did all her tasks herself. She made tea for me whenever she made tea for herself. Last year, she went with Dad and me on a trip to Darjeeling. The manager of our hotel was surprised to see an old lady like her bubbling with enthusiasm. Despite getting much less than what she deserved in life, she was so full of life. She was the epitome of goodness and cheerfulness. 

Adapting to changes because life goes on...

Now when I have to spend every single day of my life without this magical person who was my mother, grandmother, best friend, and sister rolled into one, I feel lonely beyond words. When I lost my mother, I had a mother figure in my life. But with the loss of Dida, I am completely motherless in this huge world. 

There are days when I cry, scream and feel that I can't take it anymore. But thankfully my habit of writing saves me in those times. I record all the beautiful memories with Dida in my journal. It feels great to relive those moments in the white pages on those dark nights. I am planning to start a memoir section on my blog too. 

We, human beings are great at adapting to changes. No matter how painful the change is, we ultimately find a way to adapt and start again. And when I get drowned in the overwhelming emotions, I feel Dida is telling me how much she misses that twinkling smile on my face. She hated my tears and always blackmailed me emotionally by crying more than I cried. 

This is the last picture that I had clicked with Dida before she had the stroke. It was taken in March, this year and how crazily we were laughing our hearts out that day. I had no idea that after two months, I will be writing this post about losing her.

Dear Dida, 

My moonshine,

I will always look for you

In the starry nights,

In the goodness of the world;

I will always feel you

In the autumn breeze,

The cardigan you had woven for me;

I will always remember you

While having tea, 

And listening to old Bengali songs.

I will always miss you,

Cherish you, admire you

And love you!

Sandcastle Dreams

Do you remember the two kids

Building sandcastle dreams

With love and innocence so sublime?

Reality has left no room for dreams

The love extinguished in monotony.

Do you think it's too late?

Let us rewind and pause at the moment

We started taking each other for granted;

Holding hands gently, let's wipe the dust

That had slowly blurred our love,

Paint it again with unadulterated emotions

Who knows we might then

Rediscover the treasure of our sandcastle dreams!

-Purba Chakraborty

(21.08.2016)

Linking this poem with Poetry Pantry #316

Image Source 

Summer Shadows

Sometimes, the thought of the person whom we love the most is enough to free us of all burdens of reality and chains of fear, albeit for a few minutes. 

I am taking part in the #AugustFalls poetry challenge in Instagram where participants have to write a 5 line poetry on the given 31 prompts in the month of August. The first prompt was Summer Shadows. 

You can also take part in the challenge if you love writing poetry. You can follow me on Instagram (@purba_chakraborty) where I will be posting the 5 line poems everyday on the month of August. 

Thread of acceptance

I saw them first in the park

On a beautiful spring morning;

A very good looking couple

That grabbed everyone's attention

The man looked extremely polished

Reserved and quiet

The woman was a wild bird

Laughing loudly, without any restraint

Fleeting here to there

Always up to some mischief.

I could often hear them

Bickering with each other

On silly, meaningless subjects

Till they were worn out

And headed towards home.

I observed them every Sunday

Month after month

As they bickered and debated;

I frantically searched for the glue

That held them together

Despite the silly fights.

It was after my chat

 With the lady one evening

I learnt that there was no glue.

It was the pious thread of acceptance

That kept them together

They loved to fight

As much as they loved to love

None wanted to change anything 

About each other.

-Purba Chakraborty

(27.07.2016)

Linking this poem with Poets United Midweek Motif ~ Acceptance

Image source 

Spring and Autumn

Life of a person

Often resembles the seasons;

Love colors your life in spring

You bloom in joy and delight

Your beloved adores the flowers...

....Then suddenly autumn visits

And the flowers depart with the leaves

Leaving behind the branches.

You slowly adapt to the change

Compromises are inevitable in life,

But what happens when

Your beloved cannot adapt or compromise?

You sigh...till spring returns

Only then you realize

May be, he loved only the flowers

There is no space for

The barren branches and the dull roots.

-Purba Chakraborty

(06.07.2016)

Linking this poem with Poets United Midweek Motif ~ Compromise

Cup of Nostalgia!

(Image Source)

She sits by the window

With an old letter

And a cup of nostalgia;

As she savors them,

Voices and laughter become audible

The addictive smell of cologne, prominent.

She closes her eyes

To feel the softness of roses

And the enticing warmth of his breath.

Once she revels in the cup of nostalgia,

Nothing seems subtle and distant

Every smell, sound and touch

Is vivid and pronounced.

She has done this every year

On their anniversary

It has been a decade now

She has learned to find

His esoteric presence in his absence.

The cup of nostalgia slowly engulfs her

As she gazes at his last letter,

She can feel his soul

Caressing her and holding her frail hand.

She hums their favorite song

To celebrate their togetherness;

Time stays, people go

Soulmates are never apart

Be it death or worldly separation.

-Purba Chakraborty

(31.01.2016)

Linking this poem with Prompt Nights – A Cup of Nostalgia [4] and Poetry Pantry #287

An Invisible Thread!

(Image Source)

Her heart was laced

With fog and mist;

He wiped it clean 

With his amorous touch

And showed her 

The sparkling dreams

That languished there

Since years.

The gesture didn't demand

Ounces of intricate words;

It all happened in the

Canopy of a magical silence

With an assuring look

And an invisible thread

That bind their souls together

Since ages.

-Purba Chakraborty

14.01.2016

Linking this poem with Prompt Nights – On Popular Demand [1] and Poetry Pantry #285

Unsaid...

(Image Source)

Perfection is when

You grasp all my baffling words

Before they escape

My trembling lips; wonder how

You hear all that is unsaid... 

-Purba Chakraborty

05.01.2016

Tanka is a classic form of Japanese poetry related to the haiku with five unrhymed lines of five, seven, five, seven, and seven syllables. (5, 7, 5, 7, 7)

Linking this poem with Prompt Nights- Perfection hosted by Sanaa Rizvi and also 
with Poetry Pantry #285

Sunshine in December

(Image Source)

The chilly winds of December

Winter blues all around

Gloomy

Ashen

Pallid.

She digs out the box of memories

Wears the cloak of thoughts

Enamoring

Warm

Crimson.

Now, she can see sunshine in December

A thousand sun rays illuminated her snowy heart

Of his love

Of her love

Of their love.

-Purba Chakraborty

(20.12.2015)

Linking this poem with Poetry Pantry #283, the last poetry pantry of this year :)

Colors: Key to the Book of Memories

(Image Source)

Colors of love are bountiful

They don't fade away.

Rather, with the passage of time

They become the key to our book of memories.

The silver glimmer of his eyes

When he proposed her decades back;

She finds it in the shimmering stars today

The color opens her book of memories.

The delicate pink of her cheeks

When she shyly read his first love letter to her;

He finds it in the twilight sky today

The color opens his book of memories.

With every single color,

An enamored memory is associated.

Be it her black kohl-lined eyes,

Or the lilac shirt she gifted him;

There is a story that every color whisper

To the people who are in love

Year after year.

The same colors reflect in other objects

Be it in the black, monsoon clouds

Sheathing the pretty moon,

Or in the blooming of flowers

On a bright, spring morning.

The colors tug at our heart strings

Opening the book of our memories.

Linking my poem on Colors with Poets United Midweek Motif ~ Colors 

The poisonous FRUIT of GRUDGE!

Yesterday, I came across a short poem written by William Blake. It goes like this:

I was angry with my friend;

I told my wrath, my wrath did end.

I was angry with my foe;

I told it not, my wrath did grow.

And I watered it in fears,

Night and morning with my tears;

And I sunned it with smiles.

And with soft deceitful wiles.

And it grew both day and night.

Till it bore an apple bright."

So, this is how the poisonous fruit of grudge grows. The truth is that everyone in our life, no matter how close he or she is, would hurt us and let us down, someday or the other. No one can meet our expectations to keep us happy, every single time. It is really impossible. 

Sometimes, you might feel that you are terribly wronged by the person you thought would never hurt you. Thus, a small seed of grudge against the person would erupt in your heart. You would find yourself complaining again and again, "How could he/she do this to me?"

This kind of thing has happened between me and my close friends countless times. The thing that has saved our friendship, each time is that I have directly talked to my friends about the things which has hurt me. I have not let the grudge grow in my heart, by watering it with tears and nourishing it with anger.

I have noticed that after I tell my friend how much his or her actions have hurt me, my friend is also able to point out where I was wrong and where I had also caused pain. Thus, the tiny seed of grudge dies that very moment we talk about it with each other. 

Honesty and forgiveness smash the seed of grudge totally and saves a long-term friendship from a bitter misunderstanding.

If we really care for a person and if we know deep down in our heart that the person also cares for us, we should never tame grudges in our heart. We should rather talk about it openly with the person concerned and resolve the conflict. 

Else, just like in the poem of William Blake, the wrath would grow and grow until it bears the poisonous fruit of grudge (bright apple) in our heart, destroying the closest relationships that we have formed in our lives.

We should always value our relationships more than the seed of grudge that has newly erupted in our heart.

What do you think?

Image Source

The dried, red rose ( 55 Fiction )

Image Source

As she dusted her bookshelf, a book at the corner grabbed her attention. She opened it and found the red rose, which she had kept there, three years back. 

Dried and tattered, like his love! It smelled betrayal.

Holding her breath, she threw the rose in the dustbin, never to look back at him again.

Tweet: Dried and tattered, like his love! It smelled betrayal. #TheDriedRedRose #55Fiction http://bit.ly/1L8IhL2 via @Manchali_purba

Goodbye vs. Let go

(Source)

Goodbye vs Let go?

Earlier, I thought that these two terms are synonymous. But, with the passage of time, with my own set of life experiences and observations, I realized how different the two words are. Both imply separation but there is a huge difference in the two kinds of separation.

Goodbye is bidding adieu to someone, without knowing when you both will meet again, if you both will meet again ever. But, if you ever bump into each other again after some months or years, you both will hopefully greet each other with a smile and reminisce about the fond, past memories. You will shed a tear or two over the distance that prevailed for so long. You will perhaps apologize for not making an effort to get back in touch. You will be curious to know how the other person's life turned out after both of your paths separated.

Let go is something completely different. It is saying goodbye without hope. In let go, you have to replace hope with acceptance...acceptance of the fact that this person is gone from your life forever either by mutual decision or by any one of your decisions. It can be that both of you would never meet again in this life. It can be that even if you both see each other in a cafe, you both won't acknowledge each other's presence. Let go is lifetime silence from the person, who once meant a lot to you. Let go is being okay with not being able to find out how the other person is doing even after say, twenty years or more.

Goodbye is bidding adieu with a tint of hope. Let go is saying goodbye with a tough acceptance that it's over, shedding all hope.

In our life, we meet so many people. We get extremely close to some of them and then after some time, our paths separate. Only a few people stay with us, year after year, decade after decade. They are so rare that you can actually count them on your fingers. 

Dealing with separations gracefully is the art of life. But among these two kinds of separation, goodbye sounds a little easier and kinder to me.

What about you?

Tweet: Let go is saying goodbye with a tough acceptance that it's over, shedding all hope. http://ctt.ec/FX9bf+ #Acceptance via @Manchali_purba

Stupid! I hate you (Flash Fiction)

After tussling with her mind for more than three hours, Naina finally decided to make that call to her best friend, whom she has lost in the hand of misunderstandings, some eight months back. They never talked after that. None of them even tried talking to each other. When hurtful words hit our psyche, they ooze out tears which cause more pain than blood. She knew it was neither of their fault; it was the situation which was faulty. 

(Image Source: here)

Life kept her extremely busy and one day, when she finally cleared the clutter, she could see her missed connection. She did not just lose her best friend that day; she also lost her brightest smile along with him. With tears and a pulsating heart, she dialed his number. The phone rang and rang for what seemed like eternity, but no one picked the call. “He would never talk to me again”, Naina mumbled. She felt the ground slipping beneath her feet when a message popped up on her mobile screen.

Stupid! I hate you.

Naina could feel her brightest smile returning back to her face and she ended up giggling. 

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.