Category Archives: New Writing

Designed for Chapters, Scenes, or short stories to be shared

The Saint,A Stranger Among Men

The Saint, A Stranger Among Men
A previous age, perhaps less materialistic than our present one would have recognised and
acknowledged his otherness. His air of inner spirituality which others say he carried with him
and wore as lightly as the finest cape about his shoulders. Shoulders that others imagined
might have sprouted angelic wings. Eccentric, a flaneur with a quietly assertive insouciance
he wafted along the boulevards with transcendent equanimity. Then on a day of no particular
significance, at least none that I could apprehend at the time nor afterward, I actually
encountered him at one of the more popular Cafes, this figure of some Left bank
intellectual /philosophical speculation /admiration/veneration. This itinerant dispenser of
wisdom and insight.
The Saint with the shabby overcoat and hangdog expression asked me if I could spare him a
few reminiscences. I replied that the change in my pockets changes with the changing tide,
though I could offer him some reflections instead. The Stranger sat back in his chair
ordered himself another absinthe and began whistling some nameless tune while he waited
for his drink to arrive.
” If all our pain and sorrow only came on the morrow would we set the alarm late or not at
all? taking the chance that vicissitudes had all somehow passed us by while we were fast
asleep.”
This I realised immediately was the aphoristic balm which the Saint dispensed with
customary generosity to those he presumed were in need of immediate spiritual relief of some
kind; which in his own inimitable view included just about everybody. Though not all at the
same time.
” And were we to store all our tears shed in our lives, how big would the bottle have to be?
Could we claim back some pennies if we returned it empty? ” I was inwardly responding with
something akin to mild annoyance, outwardly with a beatific smile bordering on rictus when,
the Saint glanced askance at his watch where time had stopped years ago.
He wondered aloud where the waiter might’ve got to with his drink? “ If we don’t feel the
suffering of others, how will we know if we have blood in our veins? ” thereupon the Saint
got up, bid me adieu and was gone.
Some time after he’d left I saw in the mirror that there was no longer a reflection there
of me.

Les Autres ( A Short Story )

The unexplained disappearance of the reclusive author had never been properly investigated,at least not to the satisfaction of his fans,his readers and most of all his adopted son,the wannabe reporter on the local rag.
For years this state of dissatisfaction festered amongst the interested parties,who if nothing else managed to commemorate the renowned scribbler’s vanishment with an annual pilgrimage of sorts.
Then one year with the weather being particularly inclement,even for the usually desolate Scottish lochs,only the reporter had made it to the venue,the deserted house.Whereupon finding himself alone resolved in an instant to make a foray into the abandoned domicile to perhaps, in his own mind, satisfy an unquenchable curiosity.
Nothing actually came of that quixotic foray,nothing that is apart from a chance discovery,in the drawer of an antique dresser of a manuscript.
A suicide note perhaps? may be not.A last will and testament? no one however questioned its authenticity when it was scanned and reproduced in the local weekly under the adopted son’s byline.The absent author alluded to his own ineluctable disappearance in the form of a poem.Simply perhaps to add to whatever mystery was bound to ensue from his vanishment.

When winter’s cadence sounds,
burn their pictures
the photographs of the dead
burn them,
so that they shan’t
trouble you again
when winter’s cadence sounds;

the gardens are shrouded
in snow
upon which no earthly foot
will fall,
and the door chimes dormant
hang suspended by a thread
of your own disbelief;

an imperceptible menace
waiting for a breath,
a snap of cold winter’s
air to cut the thread
and send it crashing,

crashing onto the floor,
where you shan’t hear it
except in your imagination’s
ear firmly fixed on the
sound of winter’s cadence.

‘Positive Sutra: Life says never give up!!!’

 

Image: Amit Bose

Abandoned on the road of love, without a destination

Let the pain not relieve, for it transforms into beautiful poems.

 

The book will be called ‘Positive Sutra: Life says never give up!!!’

Thank-you Louis Kasatkin Sir and Destiny Poets for giving me this wonderful platform to share a few words about my book which is yet to be published.

A blook: A book created by picking some of the writings on my blog. www.researcheye.wordpress.com

Blogobook

My blog www.researcheye.wordpress.com is my life. It is dearest to me as it reflects everything that I experience in my life. A medium of self-expression, it is a journey that the reader will experience beyond words. I have a couple of followers on the blog but, I wanted to reach to a broader audience. So, I decided to publish my writings from the blog and put them together in a book. Here is my first blook (A book prepared from blog posts).

 My blog has been my constant companion and an immense support during tough times. Life is so tremendously exciting when you have a blog. You keep searching for topics to write so that you keep updating the blog. It gives you a reason and motivation to write. The other day I wondered why I write and this is what came to my mind.

Why do I write?

When you are hurt you hit hard with words,
You don’t know what you are hitting at, who are you hitting with words?
Some who read say, “You wrote well”,
Some call you insane,
Some ignore but, you write because writing empties you and then fills you with immense joy. Words do have that soothing power.
This poem shares my reasons for writing.

Writing

Screaming out to the heaven,
Loathing in disharmony,
Fuming in fathomless anger,
Restless regardless of the world,
Hiding, hoarding deep in the shackles of daily worldly disdainful, tasteless world.
Weighing words with disgusting balance.
Yelling within, peaceful ‘me’ is just a sham.
Words wane the anger, disgust and fury
String of hurriedly typed words with a gush of emotion.
Now a peaceful me is a picture of perfect happiness.

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INTRODUCTION

I took to writing this book with the aim of reaching out to people who have faced depression or immense emotional challenges. We often get hovered by spiral of negative thoughts to get pulled into depression. The force of negativity kills energy within us and replaces it with mental lethargy. Sometimes even walking a few steps to pick up a glass of water or grab a newspaper becomes a herculean task. Our will power is weak and we only see the negative aspect of life.

Only positive thinking can pull us out of this spiral.

The book has poems that date back to the years when I have gone through moments of stark darkness and disappointment. And to each dark poem there is a poem reflecting the positive attitude towards life that I hold today.

This collection of poems is divided in two parts, first being Aikya: Nirvana & dispelling of negativity and second being Smaran: Fragrance of Times.

 Aikya:

Aikya means unity or oneness. A spurt of laughter often wets our eyes. In humour is reflection of sorrow, and pain. A transition from sorrow to happiness and back again, is all one; a confluence of positive and negative. The dusk of negativity has to end, because, it has to be followed by a beautiful dawn. This is a disposal of negativity, which has to end and only from it will flow positivity. Ironically blended in it is all that is positive to life.

Experience a trance that is a confluence of end and start, has a scent of sorrow with fragrance of time.

Smaran:

We are all knotted in relations, which give us something special and which compels us to wish that we could live longer. Smaran is the fragrance of time that is temporal.

” New Writing ” section of Destiny Poets

” New Writing ” section of Destiny Poets

1 Post per Author per Month.

For all authors out there who wish to share short stories, a scene from a playscript, or chapter of a novel.

We advise posting a suitable length section which others will enjoy reading and giving their considered views on.

Just create your post as usual, but choose the category ” New Writing ” from the correct section.