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Text of the page (random words):
to know the unknown to know the unknown friday june 13 2025 primal sense my fingers enwrapped the bosom of a coupe as i gazed around unfazed the heat was unreal a mechanical purr loomed in the room desperately fighting the june heat as i caressed the fragile stem sleek cold unyielding i saw her as she came in for a drink stray strands of hair stuck to the curve of her neck moist with sweat still red from the flaming sun her scent a floral musk earthy and stubborn parched as i was i gulped and asked for more my fingers still tracing the rim of emptiness gliding gently along its shape imagining the hearth that birthed in amber glow this finely crafted form thirsty i gulped again she looked towards me consumed me as the spirit descended deep inside drowning me in sensual delight and then she smiled posted by shalini mukherjee at 10 57 am no comments email this blogthis share to x share to facebook share to pinterest thursday december 19 2024 when bubbles pop my 6 year old loves to talk when he is not asking his father questions or enlightening me with his thoughts he is talking to the toys scattered on the floor i think among the three of us his sister who is three and a half years older than him listens to him most intently they break into a fight when she refuses to when i write i hear his questions and sometimes reply without actually listening to the specific query he stares back at me says nothing at first and when i get uncomfortable at a pair of big black eyes staring at me i turn to look at him having my full attention he then rolls his eyes managing an oh boy before leaving the room if he s silent then he s either sleeping or reading his sister s book on social studies looking for his next set of questions life would ve been very kind if my son got a chance to grow up around my father my father s wisdom kindness and patience were just what i needed to keep my son s insatiable curiosity steeping without scalding but the closest they could get was through a photo of my dad sitting atop the bookshelf at our ancestral home in kolkata he calls my dad somu nickname for somen it took him a good five years to understand why somu was there in all my stories but he only stared from a photo in kolkata death i told him was when someone was not around people die when they become old was somu 100 year old well almost i had answered dishonestly as he wouldn t understand that the notoriety of cancer had nothing to do with age but i kept insisting that my father lived on through me and my children just that we couldn t see him his stories were something i never fell short of and they were something my children loved to listen to all the time last monday my son skipped school as he was under the weather delhi s air quality had suddenly plummeted after showing us some sunny days for two weeks straight he stayed inside all day and then after lunch i allowed him to sit in the balcony the sun looked paler than an old dusty cfl bulb through pollution haze managing a sheepish smile we took out a tube of soap water that we had got from dilli haat long back and started blowing bubbles i blew them and he popped them some of them popped right on my face even before they left the loop on the plastic wand he giggled and kept popping them we had bubbles of different sizes he gave them names biggy bubbles and piddu bubbles three bubbles were stuck together and he started calling the trio teddy bubble i couldn t agree more since the two smaller ones looked like the ears of a teddy mumma why do these bubbles first appear green and then yellow and then purple and see that one there he was pointing at one which managed to float way above the others that one is red why mumma i started explaining but then they all popped and he giggled away we then paused and i told him that sunlight has seven colors and he named them all as i blew next into the loop we had a train of bubbles he screamed in glee that s a whole family of bubbles he started calling them baba bubble mumma bubble sister bubble me bubble tukai my brother in law momo my sister rom bubble my nephew and then a bubble popped he said that one is somu bubble i was rather surprised as to how my father came up in his list of bubble families out of the blue i looked up at the bubbles and one by one all the bubbles started bursting my son pointed at them and said they re all somu bubbles i was smiling as i knew what he meant he kept saying mumma why did somu vanish did he not love me did he not want to meet me i sat down and told him that somu loved him a lot it s just that some people come before us and then they have to leave before us so somu did the same and he left the space for him and his sister to grow i reminded him that somu had written poems for them which they loved listening to i was not sure whether i made him sad as it is he was quite distressed wiping off his runny nose on his sleeves i didn t want him to cry but i was wrong he came up to me gave me a hug and said don t be sad mumma do you know what happens when bubbles pop i kept looking at him for the answer they become somu let s blow some more and tell them a hello before they pop later i couldn t help thinking how each one of us had a different way of interpreting death for me my father still lived on although i had last hugged him sixteen years ago for my son who was born ten years after my father s demise somu was a kind hearted man who never scolded or hit a child but had simply vanished and become invisible before hutu was born posted by shalini mukherjee at 11 42 pm no comments email this blogthis share to x share to facebook share to pinterest friday november 11 2022 death in the house each time their eyes met there was solace hers spoke of a resignation a plea to be free silenced by tears well hid behind lashes sticking together a witness to her daily distress peace was the most he dared convey the councilors stood quiet lowered heads and coats long the gentleman lay flat on the porch his sideburns gummed with soupy blood beside sat a grey cat licking its paw chasing which from the roof he fell the battered wife motionless and sore a hand on her belly caressing lovingly stared she at the man that relentlessly hit the unborn she bore now still in her womb her gaze unfazed searching for the eyes that bore witness to it all silently she saw him his eyes met hers and lingered a moment long a peace they reflected of a duty done a loyalty unsullied as he faithfully cleaned the lights of the sedan wiping off the blood of a fawn that abruptly sprung out of the woods on his master s way home posted by shalini mukherjee at 12 04 am 1 comment email this blogthis share to x share to facebook share to pinterest monday march 08 2021 wounded to love me is to love the complete me the once butter soft skin now wrinkled with lines like crowfeet marking the happy days the hairs now grey that felt soft ever so black upon your chest as i lay asleep with a smile reminiscing bliss my lips not so supple anymore the breasts narrate the story of nurturing yet when i bathe i like the way the water trickles past my physical form and defines my soul how i still like being vulnerable to the touch i yearn and still hide within my crevasses the desires so strong the musk so strong laden with sweat and forgetfulness now punctuates every corner of me and then stands the man who loves to be loved to kiss without thinking and to feel the strength of his muscles as much as his will against my skin to feel fragile and melt in love but he ll never know never know that his strength were born out of me his peace attached like the umbilicals still was it time to snip posted by shalini mukherjee at 8 27 am no comments email this blogthis share to x share to facebook share to pinterest saturday february 13 2021 caf é the only bond was that of the coffee sipping which they sat still together their thoughts by now quite chose to differ and opinions alas never could be more bitter yet her heart found a solace sitting quietly here wondering what he thought that exact moment of the world that lay beyond the black door the gridiron pattern of the road in front what thoughts would he have as he sipped from his mug should dickens have the wine spilt here instead would he think of blood or a spirit refined so long ago it seems to her their thoughts held hand and hearts felt glad but things had changed for the good or the bad no one knew or did god after all the lapping of the waters on the wall brought her thoughts back to the cups in front the two grey mugs stood empty side by side photo courtesy sudipta das original post at https m facebook com photo php fbid 10158078846773321 id 607658320 set gm 1268512820209514 source 57 ref m_notif notif_t feedback_reaction_generic posted by shalini mukherjee at 8 22 am no comments email this blogthis share to x share to facebook share to pinterest friday january 08 2021 first love they never met for years he found love and she found the confidence in kindness roads not crossed journeys bordered by myriad emotions responsibilities betrayals and expectations love matured to perfection flavoured in the old oak soaked in tolerance and tested in commitments and then she met him again the years spent in distance shared with endless words thoughts familiar descriptions galore laughter with the same melody fingers kept next to each other entwining in another space time travelled to the past of the reticent girl melting in the raw seasons of adolescent love the hint of fear long faded from the love that persisted forgotten forgotten his words like the jigsaw finished her thoughts still that she learnt not to nip anymore the curve of her smile reaching her eyes as she dreamt of his unashamed a connection metamorphosed from love extending beyond the tremulous kisses stashed away in the stairways of her heart forgotten like the smell of the first rains posted by shalini mukherjee at 11 49 am 3 comments email this blogthis share to x share to facebook share to pinterest monday may 09 2011 aami amar modhye katota poriborton eshechhe ta vabtey boshle odbhut laage nijer ekta motamot ekta vabadorsho ekta ichhe of leading a particlar kind of life shobi kirom strong hoye gyache aaj kalbela dekhe setai upolobdhi holo ekta somoy chilo jakhon kauke bhalobeshe shob chhere dewar shahosh rakhtam aaj k bodhoy shob chhere ditey parbo nijer shonge thakar jonyo ki odhut poriborton hoyto eka thakar side effect asholey akhon jibon ta k bujhte shikhechi dekhte shikhechi with a pair of mature eyes jekhane personal feelings periyeo ekta life achhe jekhane jibone kichu kora for others onek beshi importance paay abar ei ami tari majhe majhe ichhe hoy jakey bhalobashi tar shonge ek shonge thakar to reveal the vulnerable part to shed this shell of an iron will n seek shelter to lead a life free of any tensions nijer duschinta gulo k r ekjoner gharey chapiye nije protected hoye thakte ichhe kore abar paromuhurtei monne hoy tahole ami toh r ami thakbona onyo keu hoye jabo kintu nijer ei identity ta j ashole kon ami tar setai toh awjana naki dutoi ami shobari toh thake more than one face amaro achhe ekta ami jakey tumio cheno sei ami ta jeta khub vulnerable tomar aalingoner majhe kintu je tar oi vulnerability ta k bhoy paay na to be revealed infront of you ekta nagno ami j chaay tomar shonge ekta chintamukto jibon katatey j shobtheke beshi dukkho paay tomar shamanyo ekta aghat ey j bhalobeshe hariye felte jane nijeke r ekta ami j nana jhamela ekai lorey jaay j chaay na nijer durbalota ta k janate j nijer aatmoshomman taèr jonyo r baki shob chhere ditey shahosh rakhe r nijeke bholay ei vabnay j tar thekeo onek jotil shamoshyaay aache prithibi te nana manush shey toh tao dubela khawar khamota rakhe katolok ache jara setao rakhena r oi ami ta ager cheye kirom aaro drirho hoye jai aaro shakto aaro onyorakom jei ami ta k amio chinina to follow knowledge like a sinking star beyond the utmost bound of human thought to strive to seek to fight n not to yield posted by shalini mukherjee at 3 29 pm no comments email this blogthis share to x share to facebook share to pinterest older posts home subscribe to posts atom about me shalini mukherjee view my complete profile blog archive 2025 1 june 1 primal sense 2024 1 december 1 2022 1 november 1 2021 3 march 1 february 1 january 1 2011 1 may 1 2010 4 november 1 june 1 march 2 2009 11 november 3 september 2 august 2 june 1 march 1 february 1 january 1 2008 2 march 1 february 1 2007 1 december 1 2006 4 august 1 may 2 april 1 simple theme powered by blogger