Sadness has a Face

Sadness has a face; sometimes of a person and sometimes of a place.Different sorrows have different faces. So, when your lover leaves you, you go back to remember your previous lover and how things got messed up with her. You don’t miss her but it is sadness showing up with her face.

Does that make you wonder whose sadness has your face? More importantly, does that boost your ego or only make you hurt deeper?

Picture credits: Google images

Posted in Poetry


What does home smell like?

Does it smell like the mango trees

Behind my childhood house?

Or like the plaster of Paris-

One of my first memories of my then new house?
Instead, does home smell like the silk Mekhela Saador*

Which Maa wears on rare occasions? 

Is it the smell of gakhir sewai Dia** used to make

Or maybe her suji that was my favourite. 
Does home smell like Jasmine?

For that is the shampoo my best friend uses.

Or if Home might also smell like my books,

Where I often run to in search of solitude.
I wonder if home smells
Like an amalgamation of all these smells

Or maybe none of them at all.

If it isn’t home that smells like them

But they smell like home?

*Mekhala Saador- An assamese attire.
**Dia- the name by which I used to call my grandmother.

Picture credits: Google images

Been too long! (Hi xD)

It’s been so long since I last posted, right? The last two months have been very hectic and so, I couldn’t give any time to WP. I’m sorry for this long absence.Also, sorry for missing the Quotation Sundays.
I’m back now and I’ll be posting stuffs up soon. 🙂
Another news is I have a project up my sleeves. Without giving anything away (partly for suspense and partly because not much of it isn’t yet decided xD ),I really hope you’ll love what I’m upto. ^-^

Posted in Writeups


Kuhi and her father were in the midst of an argument. Kuhi, a hardcore feminist, couldn’t accept that her father could see no reason why there is a need for feminism.
“I mean I understand there is still a gender disparity in the rural areas, people still cry over a daughter’s birth but in here? No, young lady, we are past that stage. Have I treated you any less than your brother ever?”
With all honesty, Kuhi could not say ‘yes’ to the question raised by her father. Her father knew that too and so continued without pausing, “Then, your mother and I, both, have been working right since we got married. Isn’t that equality, now?”
Kuhi didn’t like losing arguments, especially when she was correct. However, she held back her answer that while he was having coffee and conversing with his daughter after coming home, his wife, who too came from office, was in the kitchen preparing dinner.

I think that if I ever have kids, and they are upset, I won’t tell them that people are starving in China or anything like that because it wouldn’t change the fact that they were upset. And even if somebody else has it much worse, that doesn’t really change the fact that you have what you have.

Stephen Chbosky, The Perks of Being a Wallflower

Quotation Sunday

Let’s Talk

Today, the 7th of April, is World Health Day and this year’s theme is 

Depression: Let’s talk.

Without adding much to it, I’m going to say, what I’m sure everyone knows but still it needs repeating, depression is an illness. Like any other physical disease, this,too, is a disease and people suffering from it should seek help. This isn’t an attention seeking act or a sign of weakness. So, please speak up, seek help or talk to someone you trust about your problem. And if you know someone who might be fighting this battle alone, please be there for them.

Every human life is worth the same, and worth saving.

—J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

The Harry Potter series is a gem of a series and apart from the well known and appreciated quotes, there are many more underrated beautiful quotations- like this one- that deserves a little reminding of every once in a while.

What is your favourite Harry Potter quote? 

Quotation Sunday

Posted in Writeups

Knight in Shining Armour

I sat on the couch, wondering how I haven’t yet drowned in the sea I was sure my tears should had created by now.
I checked the phone for his texts or any phone calls that I must had missed but there were none. None!

Missed calls

Kuhi (11)
Maa (4)


Kuhi (29)

I threw away the phone. One year of being together and he could just go away like that. Without another glance, without a second thought? I know I was being deplorable. There was a time Kuhi and I used to make fun of such characters. But how could I stop these water works?

While I was in my own bubble of misery, I heard some footsteps. It couldn’t be Maa. She isn’t coming home till next Sunday. Was it him? It has to be him. My miserable heart was ready with a pin to burst this bubble of misery. But my eyes couldn’t yet find the courage to look up but even when lowered, they saw a bunch of roses. Yes, he came back.  Of course, he did!

“Bitch! Next time, ditch me like thay and I’m gonna break your head with this bottle”, saying so, she placed the bottle of vodka by the roses.


“Oh! Do you remember Kuhi? I thought your boyfriend- ex, I may ruthlessly and happily too add- of a year and the tragedy of losing him made you forget your best friend of seven years. These roses are for your broken heart and the bottle for me. Now move over your sad skinny ass”, saying so, Kuhi made some space for herself on the couch.

“Told you he was an asshole”, she said. Tactlessly and mercilessly.

My head on her shoulder, though the tears didn’t yet stop but the heart felt less heavy now.

Images credits: Google images

How many times is your best friend by your side when your world seems all dark and twisty? No matter how close we are to our parents, there are just some things we cannot share with them. Or maybe we can but we don’t prefer to. And that’s when our best friends come as knights in shining armour or maybe just a packet of chips or a bottle of vodka.

This post is dedicated to my best friend, Prerna.

My twisted sister.
My partner in crime
My person.

However, just to clear any kind of confusion, this is a work of fiction and has no resemblance with any person, living or dead. (Okay, too much drama xD)

Posted in Writeups

Within Four Walls

The nights never seem to end. Like a tiger, he pounces and jumps, leaving marks all over. Blacks and purples, they don’t vanish when the reds already appear. And in his incessant pounding, the four walls suck off all my ‘no‘s.

Sunlight seeps in, and I do my best to cover up the medley of those hues. Button up till the top, long sleeves, whether hot or cold. Even then if another man glances my way, back at home, he makes sure a different kind of red marks my body.

My body.

I almost scoff at that.

 Is it mine really? Seems more like his territory

Featured image source: Google images

Posted in Poetry

Pass me on!




a magical or medicinal potion.

I’m the mother’s kiss 

On a bruised little knee more than Dettol ever could be.

I am the plate of plain rice and dal

For the hostel boy who returned home after more than a year.

I painted her face with rainbow hues

When her mother held her hand as she walked out of the closet.

The inkpot to the writer’s broken heart

I am their baby’s first cry after 7 years of trying. 

Or a mere pencil in those tiny hands

Which held hot kettles and brooms for all their lives.

You see, I’m everywhere and nowhere

But next time you see me, use me a little and pass me on.