Tag Archives: Writing

Unsaid Parting

I think the separation that hurt the most is when people drift apart without knowing the reason? Reticent mind, painful silence, and arduous vagueness, all teasing the worn-out heart, making parting such a devilish experience. Then there exists this pretentious thought, which peeps from the grayness and through the hazy window of a murky mind, giving the delirious heart to raise a tender chance of a fast diminishing hope, ironically making egress a difficult task to fathom.

Emotions blemishing sanity, eyes brandishing gargoyle vision and mind oscillating between sudden sparks of blithe and many bursts of sorrows. Often a lifetime goes by seeking answers and then at the end the mind buries the battered soul in a shell, trying to survive the life, as we call, an ostensible paradise.

Copyright © Shantanu Baruah

Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Shantanu Baruah, ckonfab.com, and afflatuz.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content

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The tragedy​ of Being Human

Responding to the prompt, The Tragedy of Being Human, given by Manic Sylph Mona. Mona is an amazing poet. If you haven’t visited her blog, please do so you won’t regret

The tragedy of being human
are we are often drenched
in the sea of emotions,
chasing shadows,
embracing deceit
and still, carry the charm
to shed a tear
blaming it on this thing called life

Copyright © Shantanu Baruah

Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Shantanu Baruah, ckonfab.com, and afflatuz.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content

Her Newfound Love

Her carefree soul
lived a dream
and thrived in the influence
of its blithe heart

The ill fate that often surfaces,
the bad omen the world defined,
the moments that stole happiness away,
she detested all such thoughts

And she beamed
through her innocuous eyes
garnishing her spirits
embracing her thoughts
charting new paths
with her newfound love

Copyright © Shantanu Baruah

Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Shantanu Baruah, ckonfab.com, and afflatuz.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content

Why I Write

I write,
for my thoughts to be around,
lingering in people’s mind
long after I am gone,
and my scripts,
lost under the dust
of some forgotten tome,
for someone to discover,
those raw emotions,
vivid in front of their eyes
even when years have passed by

I write,
with the hope that
after my departure from this world
my verses will be cherished,
maybe it will inspire a few,
or it will leave someone
with a thought to ponder or two

I write,
with the hope my words
maybe sometime in the future
will be read by some terrestrial beings
to understand how perplex humans emotions are
and despite all the mayhem around
how the vibrant soul never gives up

I write
for I want imaginations to leap,
liberating the mind
and igniting views from deep within,
I write for awareness,
I write for peace,
I write to instill humility,
I write to give encouragement,
and above all,
I write for love

Copyright © Shantanu Baruah

Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Shantanu Baruah and ckonfab.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Act of Kindness

When I see a homeless person on the street my heart breaks. My mind goes into an endless spiral thinking what adversities the person may have gone through to land up in an unfortunate situation like this.

While my heart wails, I am often hesitant to give them money. Long back I read about homeless people and drug abuse. That article struck me hard and have invariably imprinted itself in my front lobe permanently. Somehow my thoughts never permit me to give them cash, as my subconscious mind curls up thinking the money will be abused. And every time I walk away from such predicament feeling guilty.

I am sure not everyone on the street is a drug addict, nor everyone will misuse the money.  But for few miscreants, I have been measuring everyone with the same yardstick. I know I have to find a way to break away from the pretentious shackles.  How about next time when I meet a person on the street instead of giving money I take them to a restaurant or buy them a blanket to comfort them from the brutal winter storms. Maybe a genuine smile or an empathy can also do the miracle in the absence of kind.  This is what I am going to do next time.

Do you have any opinions? Any other thoughts? I will love to hear your views.

Copyright © Shantanu Baruah

Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Shantanu Baruah and ckonfab.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

 

 

Comedy of Errors

I lived in Singapore for two years and loved the place. Work was interesting, I was young, and the city was vibrant. I couldn’t have had any better way to start my career.

I had treasured many interesting memories from Singapore and from time to time the beautiful yore keeps revisiting, rekindling the moments fondly in my heart. I was reminded of one such incidence this morning. So, I thought why not share with you all beautiful souls in WP  – so here it goes.

It was the month of July. The summer was at its peak. Regardless, Singapore being a tropical country was always hot. We infamously joked about Singapore seasons, for we had three seasons hot, hotter and hottest with some occasional rain as teasers. Our work was at the extreme. We were in the final stages of a product release to major markets such as Singapore, Malaysia, and Hong Kong. Working long hours was not considered aberration from normal and life outside work was reduced to a negligible minimum.

It was a Friday. Rahul and I decided to work late. The plan was to take the weekend off, something we had not done for a long time and we were looking forward to it.

Rahul and I used to stay together. We were looking for a bachelor’s apartment and in the interim, we moved into a temporary place. It was one of the apartments in the usual long rises in Singapore. With 3.5 times the size of Washington DC, tall buildings were the only respite to manage the growing population in this country. The place was owned by Ved. We found him through our realtor. Ved and his wife were expecting a baby and his wife was at her maternal place. It worked well for us. With no leisure time left because of work, the stopgap house was the perfect solution.

That Friday we left office at 2:00 AM in the morning to catch the last MRT to our dwelling in Bukit Batok. Our office was right across the Orchard Road and our walk to the MRT was just a block. Nothing was too far in Singapore. In 30 minutes, we reached home.

Ved was not at home. He had some friends staying close to the city and was staying with them to finish some weekend shopping.

After several weeks of daunting commotions, all I desired was to sleep. I was halfway through changing when I heard the groggy voice of Rahul from the living room, requesting me to accompany him outside so that he could smoke. I never smoked and personally I hated the concept of passive smoking. Besides, I was dead tired of any trivial blather. I dragged myself back to the living room questioning his perilous desire. But somehow, he persuaded me to passively inhale some obnoxious gas.

We walked out and stayed in the corridor next to our apartment door. He lit the cigarette and I watched the wind direction to adjust my location base to avoid the vapors. After a few long drags, he asked a dangerously leading question, “do you have the house keys?”

The access door to the apartment had a self-locking feature. As we pulled the door it got locked by itself. I was standing outside with an old vest and a worn-out short. We were standing right outside the door, so I had ditched wearing shoes. Our phone, wallet everything was behind the locked doors. My friend was also in a similar paradoxical situation. Although, with his slippers on him he was in a slightly better shape than me.

For a few minutes, we didn’t know what to do. Angst, tiredness, and frustration loomed us. We couldn’t call anyone, had no money on us and above all our dull minds were defeating any sane thinking. My friend spoke first “the 7-11 down below is open 24 hours. I had bought dozens of cigarette packs and I am sure they will lend me 10 cents to call Siva.”

Siva was our colleague from work. It seemed like a good idea. Rahul was still better dressed than me, so I refrained to expose myself to the shop and waited by the building entrance while Rahul went ahead with his plan.

He returned with a pensive look. Upon my asking, I learned the shopkeeper refused to give him any money. My friend swore never to buy anything from the shop, but that wasn’t helping our cause. The morning was not too far away, forcing us to think about ways to bail out of the situation.

“How about we hire a taxi to Siva’s house. You are in some decent shape. You hail a cab and I will sneak in. We anyways need to pay on arrival and once we reach Siva’s house money won’t be a concern.” I offered my suggestion.

It seemed that was the best we could think of and we went ahead with the plan. We sauntered towards the Main Street looking for our ride. I stayed behind while Rahul waved for taxis. Soon we were on our way to Siva’s house. The taxi driver was skeptical.

Looking at my dilapidated stature anyone would be. So, I went ahead and explained him our situation. He was still incredulous and upon reaching, used me as the man in custody while Rahul went to get the money.

Our troubles were far from being over. We rested for a few hours, borrowed our friend’s clothes and called Ved for the house keys. He asked us to meet by one of the shops near Orchard road. Ved gave us the apartment keys and also requested us to carry a stroller he had bought from the store.

We reached home and crashed. I must be 15 minutes into my slumber when I heard some noises coming from a distance. First, I thought I was dreaming, but soon I realized it was Rahul who was trying to wake me up. When I heard him, my sleep disappeared? In the entire hullabaloo, we left Ved’s stroller in the taxi trunk. Since it was a personal trip, we did not take any receipt. There was no way to trace the driver. We tried calling the cab toll free number, but it was next to impossible to track someone without any details.

We didn’t have the heart to let Ved know that we lost his baby stroller. So, to avoid any further humiliation we decided to go to the shop and buy a replacement stroller. We were perilously delirious, had no verve left, yet we took the journey back to the store to save our pride. This time I ensured we had the house keys.

Till date, Ved doesn’t know anything about the replacement stroller. There were no more incidences that day, for god may have run out of all pranks.

Hope you enjoyed reading it

Copyright © Shantanu Baruah

Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Shantanu Baruah and ckonfab.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Louisville To Raleigh

I had an important meeting in Louisville Kentucky today. My flight from Newark was delayed yesterday and I reached Louisville way past midnight. Despite all the travels I still find hard to sleep in a hotel bed. And my struggle to sleep continued this time as well.

My day started early and meetings went well. Louisville was preparing for the Derby season and the city was warming up for the event.

My flight was not until 6:30 PM. This time I was flying to Raleigh, NC. There was no direct flight and I was flying via Newark. The irony of reaching home airport yet not able to go home 😬

The famous Kentucky fried chicken (KFC) started in Louisville. I had left eating at fast food joint a while ago, but the thought that fried chicken originated from this place tempted me to stop by at a KFC. I stood in the line for a while and when my turn came, I couldn’t find the courage to break my 5-year streak of avoiding fast food joint. I went to a tavern instead and enjoyed a grilled burger.

The boarding was announced and as I waited to be seated the famous air traffic congestion delayed the flight. My connection time between the two flights was only 35 minutes. With every passing minute, my chance to make the connecting flight was turning bleak. Flying 200K miles gives you a status with the airlines and comes handy in a situation like this. I called the airline premier desk and I was rerouted to Raleigh via Chicago. This time I was landing in Raleigh post midnight. Knowing the importance of my meeting, I switched to the new itinerary. Incidentally, the flight to Newark left. I wasn’t sure whether I should have stuck to my previous flight option. Knowing it was a losing battle, I gave such thoughts a passing glare.

The incoming flight came in and we patiently waited for the passengers to deplane. And when it was time for us to board, the gate agent announced there would be a delay. Apparently, the pilot found a scratch on the wing and it required the maintenance staff to do a thorough inspection. This time the connecting window was 50 minutes. I was hoping I had enough time, but I was wrong. Sure, the flight was delayed to a point that there was no way I could have made the connecting flight. There weren’t any other flight leaving Louisville in the night.

So, guess what I did. I called for an Uber ride from Louisville to Raleigh. A 600 miles 8-hour journey crossing three states, marking a dozen highways.

I am writing this from the ride. I arrive at 6 in the morning and my day starts at 7:30. Hopefully, it will be a fun ride

Copyright © Shantanu Baruah

Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Shantanu Baruah and ckonfab.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Check Nancy’s Work

Dear Fellow Bloggers,

One of my dear friends has joined the WordPress community. She writes everything that entails the thing we call life. She is extremely talented, writes succinctly and provides the complex version of life in an extremely simplistic form. She is a life coach by profession and a beautiful soul. Check her work below 👇and give your ❤️ and support

https://soulmagica.wordpress.com/

The Hidden Lazaret

He hid his soul in a lazaret,
Stashed away from anyone’s reach,
And waited for that one person,
Who could dare to find him and breach.

He was a lone ranger,
Often remained in solitude,
He was never social and he seldom spoke,
People thought he had issues with his attitude.

And like a nomad,
He traveled from place to place,
Often restless and fidget,
Searching his serene space.

In that never ending quandary,
Few decades gradually passed by,
And he finally realize,
Soul couldn’t be hidden away,
Nor can be caged and set aside.

Calmness then found him,
And he was at ease,
He no longer wasted time,
Trying to find the one,
That could give him peace.

Copyright © Shantanu Baruah