Images n Words...

My Precious

2015-06-07T02:58:00.000-07:00

Me

2015-05-14T17:10:00.002-07:00

I used to be a blank canvas

Then one day whimsical mind took the brush

Soul brought all the colors

Now the canvas is filled with paint

Blooming like vibrant spring flowers

Lost and Found

2014-02-21T21:02:00.001-07:00

He’s digging,

Digging with his bare hands,

Old pale hands are shaking yet firm,

His eyes filled with dust, almost blind,

He’s digging deeper and deeper,

Something’s lost,

Lost in in the folds of depth somewhere,

Lost in life of everyday somewhere,

Lost in so deep that

He even forgot what it was,

Was it water?

May be;

No, he shook his head

Not water;

Something else,

Though not water it’s a stream,

He started to feel it

In his breathes,

In his heart beats,

He started to dig fast,

Now he felt it in his blood running through veins,

He remembers now,

Remembers what he lost,

There’s a smile of his face,

Spark in his old, almost blind eyes,

He found his lost fire,

He found his words,

He found himself,

He found the truth,

He found back the imagination.

HE

2012-11-16T01:30:00.000-07:00

Dark closed cold cell,

Somewhere in distant bell ringing

Evanescing the sound,

He heard the sound,

He closed his eyes,

Tied his hands are

Chains on leg,

Too dark to look into his eyes,

No one knows what’ in there,

For a while now

The bell had stopped,

It’s all silent again,

Deep calm silence

Like death,

His sigh broke the silence,

At the same time in those mountains

A wolf howled,

He slowly opened his eyes,

Who is he?

Do you know?

You are wrong,

You do know him

So do I,

We all know that chained person,

He is the fire,

He is the spirit, the wind

The wind that used to

Blow through our blood,

He is the song

That used to make us wild

He is the dream, the craziness

That we forget as we grew up,

He is the child, the insane child

Waiting for the summer rain,

Do you remember him now?

Yes you do

Now open the door

Walk out in the ground

Look at sky

Spread your arms wide

And now scream, SCREAM

Scream for your dream

Close your eyes

See that dark cell

That chained man

Now you can look into his eyes

Its dark but still you can see his eyes

See, his eyes are determined

Look, his muscles are strong now

And now he is trying,

He almost breaking out of the chain,

Can he do it? Can he?

Well if you trust on him, then yes, he can

Just keep the faith,

He can do it

And look, he is about to...

misleading sonnets

2012-09-17T03:30:00.000-07:00

Rainbows come, rainbows fade,
None did or does ever stay.
Life's best lesson is thus explained,
When the sun shines on a rainy day.
The wind that ruffles my hair now,
Shall be soon afar, forever gone away
Yet the fleeting pleasure moves me how,
How oft is today's trophy, tomorrow's clay!

Yet, not all moments become bygone,
Not all joy thaws asunder, shrivels or sway,
Like oysters bleed their pain to eternal pearls,
I ached alone all my life to win thy love,
Which none might ever see or speak.
Come, take my love which quietly wandered,
But never went astray.

DROPLETS

2012-05-03T03:30:00.000-07:00

The other day, I was in the shower

Watching the silver stream

Descend from perpetuity,

Obscuring me in a dream.

As I wetted my hand with water

I was drenched in its verve;

Engulfed in a trance so beautiful

I sought my unconscious half.

I put four droplets on the bathroom wall

Each small and round,

Gazed at them with sodden eyes

As they raced for the ground.

Each of them were in a hurry,

Trickling down the wall,

Jostling their way ahead

Crawling ,crawling, crawl.

One went dry before it made the sink,

One went down in a run,

The two other went meandering

Only to become one.

Four droplets sang the song life,

The sound of philosophy.

Ringing deep inside my soul

Was an insight poised subtly.

In the end it doesn’t matter

Whether you succeed or fail,

It’s what you have left in your path

It’s all about the trail.

A Dream

2012-03-28T03:46:00.000-07:00

From this devastated hatred

Finally love will reborn

World will be healed again

No matter how badly it is torn

From this countless teardrops

And endless night of pain

Oneday happiness will rise

Dreams will peep again

Though now the ground is blooded

But soon thy bird will fly, the white dove

And world will be one like Imagine

Filled with peace and love

Peace

2012-03-06T03:35:00.001-07:00

Fuck the light

Let me dream

In this dark

Here I scream

They says knowledge

Is the light

But in the shadows

Of my sight

I find the wisdom

I find the depth

I am lunatic

Dark is all I ever crave

To me dark is

Where we blind

Where we all equal

Purest mind

Light is chaotic

Dark is peace

Dark my mind

Dark my speech

Desolation Row

2012-02-12T03:07:00.003-07:00

Once I received a postcard of the hanging

I packed my bag and left the town

While crossing the bridge I saw them throwing

The king’s golden crown

And the defeated riot squad

They’re again starting to dream, you know

We all want you again here with us

In Desolation Row

Cinderella, she seems so happy

With a hope she smiles

Then she starts playing her mouthorgan

Zimmerman style

And in comes Romeo, he's reciting

"Deep in my heart I do believe"

And someone says, "You're in the right place, my friend

You need not to leave"

And the only sound that's left

After the wind blow

Is we all singing together

In Desolation Row

Now it is almost midnight

We are singing for you

The fortune telling lady and the Good Samaritan are with us

Ophelia and disguised Einstein too

The jealous monk joined us today

He’s playing what he used to play long ago

His electric violin all over again

On Desolation Row

We are writing this letter to you

With hope but don’t know if you’ll get it though

In case you’d like to know where we posting it from

It’s Desolation Row

In the Dark

2012-01-11T03:20:00.000-07:00

Once I saw a light that shined

Shining so bright

I followed the glimmer from the night

I thought it was right

But the light was too bright

Blinded me inside

Now I’m stepping back again

Evanescing from sight

I look back to the dark night

The night is so polite

Where I know nobody

No one cares for mine

In the darkness of my cocoon

Let me again hide

If you want to find me

Look at the night

Look at this shinning

Darkest night

Words

2011-12-02T02:03:00.002-07:00

Words come to me

And pass me by,

Sometimes like a roaring wave,

Sometime like a silent night,

They leave me here

With drops of sweat,

And a kiss that warm

But so faint yet,

Words, they coming out of my pen,

Words, they running through my veins,

Sometimes like a lethal hurricane,

Sometimes like lovely rain,

Words, they holding me like an endless chain,

They bring me love, they fetch me pain,

Words come to me

And they pass me by,

They give me wing

And take me high,

Words lit the fire

Riot the smoke,

Inside this flame

Chaos evokes,

From that bedlam

Words bring the peace,

Sweet aroma

And soft breeze,

Words are pale,

Lost memories,

Words are hope,

Burning dreams,

Words, they coming out of my pen,

Words, they running through my veins,

Sometimes like a lethal hurricane,

Sometimes like lovely rain,

Words, they running like an endless train,

They bring me love, they fetch me pain,

Words, they are insane...

Moonlight and She

2011-09-19T03:24:00.002-07:00

An open window

There she’s dreaming

Into this darken room

Moonlight’s bleeding

Shadow of the lady

In the wall caged motionless

Faint ray of the lonely moon

Brighten her face

Few papers’re scattered

On her wooden desk

A sudden wind tossed away

Those soft-spoken pages

Through the open window

Her eyes fixed at the night sky

Though her shadow's

Static there on the wall

In a far-away land

Her mind made a fly

A rope is ‘round her neck

Like a serpent coiling

In one of those pages

A note is written,

“Not escaping from here

Somewhere I’m just entering”

ODE TO THE DEATH

2011-08-10T02:41:00.003-07:00

I remember a face

From a half-waked dream

Gazing at the sky

Heard a scream

A quiet night

Wind is blowing high

Mind is whimsical

Lost in time

A distant star

Lost in clouds

Sound of silence

I have found.

A calm pain

A spark of fire

A drop of blood

A burning desire

A chaotic life

A peaceful death

Twinkling dreams

Nailed my bed

All I say road of destruction

Finally will lead you to

A strange creation

III

A bleeding heart

A numb pain

Some broken thoughts

Loaded in my brain

A deep feeling

Lost in time

Darkness is all

Left to shine

A bleeding heart

A numb pain

This pain is running

Through my veins

A painted canvas

Grew old pale

Again I’m going

Back to my shell

A bleeding heart

A numb pain

Am I drowning

In wild rain

An empty glass

Filled with dreams

A screaming silence

A silent scream

Lost in the maze

Maze of a lost time

Listen to the whisper

Talk of a mime

Tears are falling like rain

Found a tear’s crying

After the darkness

A blue light shines

Those mild teardrops

Let the sadness go

Behind this door of reality

A voice heard low

Lose the control

Let the dreams flow

There is a hidden meaning

Oh let me show

Keep on walking

Do not stop here

Lament has a tune

Let your heart cheer

All the mystic smoke

Riot right here

Burn out in the flames

Do not thy fear

Ashes hold the secret

Secret of life

Into the deep unknown

Oh thy dive

Here is the door

Travel space and time

Death is the fire

Who let the life shine

VII

O thy bird

Sing the requiem once more

I will ride the snake

And walk through the door

A gentle touch

A warm kiss

Lay thou here

In a complete peace

I WALK

2011-07-17T03:43:00.000-07:00

Ashes scattered around

Of my burning joint

Or of burning society

A riot of smoke arising

Veiling the vague reality

Rain-beaten roads

Stare at me with rage

As I step into the engraving night

With a pen and a page

Grooving to the darkness

Fading into silent time

I heard those quiet steps

Of a thoughtless mind

I’ve walked through the darkness

I’ve searched for light

I keep on walking

Let the chaos be my guide

Ecstasy

2011-05-17T03:12:00.000-07:00

I turned off my mind, relaxed and flew downstream... I followed the White Rabbit… I saw a door… They said, “You might not like what’s behind the door”… I replied, “But I like the door-keeper”… I took the pill that makes me small… I walked through the door… I entered the Wonderland… I took the other pill that makes me lager… Then I went to a trip, Voyage 34… I took shelter in the Memory Motel … I stepped through the Ambivalence Avenue… I heard the Sound of Light when Dim… I experienced Ineffable Mysteries… On my way in trip I felt Safe in the Steep Cliffs… There I found the Stairway to Heaven… Climbing through the stairway I reached a highway, Highway to Hell… Suddenly I’d got a Bike… And the Echoes of the Rings of Division Bell made me Comfortably Numb… I Lost for Words to describe the beauty of Two Suns in the Sunset… I laid down all thoughts… Surrendered to the voids… As the night came I looked up at the sky… I saw a face of a lady, so serene… I was confused… Who was she? ... Alice… or Lucy??

ইচ্ছে হোলো

2011-04-21T03:42:00.000-07:00

ইচ্ছে হোলো নাম না জানা লালচে ফুল

খোলা হাওয়ায় উড়ছে তার খোলা চুল

ইচ্ছে হোলো শীতের শেষে প্রথম পাতা

যুদ্ধ করে নতুন করে বাঁচতে শেখা

ইচ্ছে হোলো তীস্তানদীর পাগলা জল

আজব নেশায় চলছে ছুটে টলমল

ইচ্ছে হোলো কাঁদতে কাঁদতে হাসতে শেখা

মনের ভেতর ইচ্ছেগুলো চাগিয়ে দেওয়া

ইচ্ছে হোলো ক্লাসের মাঝে ছোট্ট ঘুম

মাঝরাত্তিরে পিঙ ফ্লয়েড আর ধোঁয়াটে রুম

ইচ্ছে হোলো কচুপাতায় শিশির-ফোঁটা

ইচ্ছে-ঘোড়ার পাগলামি আর অবাধ ছোটা

ইচ্ছে হোলো রাত্রি শেষে নতুন ভোর

জীবনপথে খুঁজে পাওয়া অচীন মোড়

ইচ্ছে হোলো বব ডীলান বা জন লেননের একটা গান

অচীন পাড়ার গ্রাম্য চাষীর কাস্তে শান

ইচ্ছে হোলো অচীন মেয়েটার মুক্ত হাসি

মনের থেকে বলতে চাওয়া, ‘ভালোবাসি’

ইচ্ছে হোলো পুরোনো সেই রঙীন স্বপ্ন

সবাই মিলে গড়ব তুলে নতুন বিশ্ব

ইচ্ছে হোলো ...

A Lonely Crowd

2011-03-21T02:52:00.001-07:00

“Those neon-lights just starting to glow.”

“Those people just started stepping out down on the road.”

“Those crowd are started gathering and soon it’d be a flood of moving legs flowing in a stream but going nowhere.”

“Still this wave rises. Everyday.”

“But why this happens everyday? Why this cycle keeps on rolling and rolling though it still stands in the same place where it began?”

“May be this is what they call life. Running and running but as a matter of fact not going. After all, you gotta keep rolling to keep yourself away from the moss. May be they come out everyday to know what’s going around, what’s out there, to face the reality.”

“But… is it true? They ride on the wave each neon-flooded night to face the reality? Really is it so? Or the reverse? Isn’t it that they want to escape from the reality by losing themselves each night amidst that huge surge.”

“But what’s the reality they’re escaping from?”

“Look at them yourself. What you see?”

“I look at all the lonely people.”

“That’s why they wander every single night out there right down these neon-lights. To forget that they’re lonely.”

“Among this crowd they feel they’re a part of it. They keep themselves this assurance that they ain’t lonely.”

“That’s what I think. This crowd is hollow. Out there in this crowd, everybody is nobody.”

“But if nobody’s everybody then someone can be anybody. Right?”

“You mean like the Walrus?”

“I am he as you are he as you are me and we are all together. Yeah, that’s what I’m trying to say.”

“Interesting.”

“I mean if they’re all lonely don’t you think somehow they’re actually together.”

“Huh… may be…”

Crumble Thoughts

2011-03-14T15:15:00.000-07:00

Time passes by. Days keep on moving. Hours running on. Every second keep on its walk with slow but steady ticking on my wrist-watch like a thriller movie as if the killer strolling through the dark narrow alley.

And we all are afraid of the killer. We don’t want to face him. We want to run away from him. And more we run more the fear grows inside our heart. Once when I was a child someone told me, “The thing you fear has no power, it’s the fear which has the power.”

So I wanted to overcome the fear. So I decided not to run away from the killer. And I opened the door. And I found myself,

“Lost in a romance

Wilderness of pain

And all the children are insane

All the children are insane

Waiting for the summer rain…”

Being obscured in the summer rain I lighted my fire. And then I ride the seven miles long snake to the ancient lake. In the road I met strange people. I walked with them. I looked at their face and they looked at mine. They all are looked similar and familiar also. But I didn’t recognize where I saw them. Suddenly a storm came. Sky turned black. I looked above. I heard some whisper. And they blew me with them. They were riders on the storm. While flying away with them, I remembered where I saw those strange people, in the mirror.

The riders left me in a vast open valley with a straight road leading to the horizon. I lied down the field. And I found those strange people again with me. We all looked bluntly to each other with no meaning on the vision. We all were like hypnotized. Then suddenly the blue bus calling us, we asked the driver where you taking us.

So we set out on the blue bus to meet the killer. “C’mon baby, take a chance with us, and meet me at the back of the blue bus… doing blue rock on a blue bus…”

I don’t know if you’ll join me to meet the killer and embrace him. But remember if you’ll try to escape him, he’ll get you by any means. So be different. Go out and meet him with a smile.

To some I might be a poet so trapped between heaven and hell, to others I might be just another person who’d crushed and burnt. But this much is true you cannot burn out if you’re not on fire.

It’s my life. Only me has the right to control it. It’s me who’ll decide which way to go, where to go, when to go, how to go. Then isn’t it me who to decide when to put a full-stop in it?

Necropolis

2011-02-24T03:31:00.004-07:00

The only color they had before their eyes was red. The only sound that was penetrating through their ear was clanking of swords. The sky was brushed into dark scarlet with the color of the setting crimson sun. The soft green grasses of the vast valley grew heavy as thick layer of blood were flowing like a stream over the field.

Concentration. All one needed was minute concentration in every step. Else there might be no chance to breathe again. Ignoring sound of one step might cost a sword stab your life. And he was concentrated. Every step, every clinking, every sound he was analyzing. Blocking every strike of sword by his shield and swift his sword minutely he was moving and moving. Finally he became the only person standing on the ground. He had a deep cut in his left part of chest, severely injured leg. Yet the joy of being the winner mitigated all those pains. Pointing his blood-drowned sword towards the red sky he screamed the winning roar.

He was tired after such a tiresome battle. He was thirsty, looking for a drop of water. But couldn’t find any. The only fluid that was flowing was warm blood. But he kept on searching. And instead he discovered something else, something he never knew existed before.

As he crawled down to every inches of the meadow for water he saw dump of numb, dead figures very closely. He found injured, cripple faces crying to breathe just for one more moment. More his saw those frozen wounded bodies more he became thirsty, and he searched more intensively and became more eager to quench his thrust.

All on a sudden his soul asked him a question, a simple question, “Do you think you are really a winner?” he was perplexed. Stopped for a moment. Looked at the darken sky. And replied to his soul, “No… I ain’t a winner, I win nothing. I just lose less than others.” Standing amidst the vast necropolis he first time discovered the feeling of pain, feeling of love. And finally he sipped a drop of salty warm water that was born from his eye.

I Am

2011-02-21T03:13:00.002-07:00

I am my own god
I see through my soul's eyes
I'm my own evil
In my vision truth seems like lies
I may choose stairway to heaven
Or may be hit the highway to hell
I heard the screaming echoes
and the ring of division bell
I see the shine on crazy diamond
And the Lucy in the sky
Drowning in November rain
From here away I’ll fly

I am my own god
I see through my soul's eyes
I'm my own evil
In my vision truth seems like lies
Though the times they are a-changing
But nothing gonna change my world
I’m the rider on the storm
The man who sold the world

I am my own god
I see through my soul's eyes
I'm my own evil
In my vision truth seems like lies
I may choose stairway to heaven
Or highway to hell
No matter what I take
I’ll reach the same place.

Who I Am

2011-01-27T03:20:00.001-07:00

Who I am

I don’t know

Don’t know if you hold me

Or just let me go

Sometime I think

I’m a stagnant river

Or a wild rain

May be a vast ocean

Or a hasty fountain

May be I’m a whimsical cloud

Floating in the sky

Or the west wind

That passes you by

May be I’m distant star

Or a deep-rooted tree

May be I’m no-one

Or an eagle so free

Whatever I am

Wild or calm

Full of spirit

Or just numb

Tell me now friend

Who am I

No matter you love or hate me

Just don’t be shy

I Walk

2010-12-29T01:31:00.000-07:00

Neon studded night. Red and yellow lights were running across so fast, so much haste all around, they had somewhere very urgent to go. I didn’t know to where? It’s okay. But did they themselves know where they were setting off to? Few rhythmic systematic red and green lights were flashing in some fixed points controlling the speedy motion of those red-yellow lights. All around your head above there’s just bright alluring light flashing on trying to inject the first of the seven sins into you, the greed. The lights were so bright that you’d even be blind. And I’d prefer no risk. So I kept my vision fixed at the ground at my shadow. I really enjoyed how my shadow grew longer and then shorter as I walk away from one street-light to another. I walked with thoughts rambling in my head.

We all are running. For what? We want equilibrium. That’s the phase everything wants to be in. That’s why water flows, wind blows, to be stable. We are running cause we also want to be stable. We think that when we’ll touch our dreams we’d be stable. So we run to catch our dreams.

People have dreams. They live for it, run for it. When they achieve it they start running more as their dreams getting larger. So is the dream like the horizon? We always can run for it, but never can touch it?

May be dream is like the other bank of the river. We imagine that other side as a fairy-land. But when we're there it seems as a normal kind of thing. Then the former side seems to be more dreamy.

So whatever the dream is do we always run for it throughout all our life?

To chase our dreams we are taught to run according to time. We try to be punctual. Punctuality. The word appreciated by all the successful people. But isn’t it the word for machines? This is the word that makes you perfect, out of chaos. You’ll be in the peak of success. But only thing that you’ll lose is your beauty. Cause there nothing more beautiful than being chaotic.

So what will you choose among your dream and beauty? Really a hard call. These words are all so... so...confusing. really hard to penetrate them through. Words. The greatest magician of the world rather of the universe. Or I better consider the word, ‘Words’ as the greatest magic. Magician is the guy who believes in it and use this simple yet most powerful thing, ‘Words’. May be I’m wrong. ‘Words’ are just a medium, of course mediums are important, but I’d better consider the master of magic is the eternal ‘Imagination’. That’s the thing that never changes. Never dies. Words, their meaning, their usages change. Even whole the languages change. They live, they die. Their magic fades pale. But the ‘Imagination’s deep beneath those words never change, never grow old. They live forever young. But ain’t again we back to the ‘Words’ who preserve the ‘Imagination’s to live forever? In fact then we see ‘Words’ do the magic. See, they die but keep the heart inside them alive, the ‘Imagination’. So who does the magic actually? The ‘Words’ or the ‘Imagination’ or the man who dare to have them both or the nature who created all of them???

Whatever we do why do we do it? Whatever we do in life will be insignificant, but it's very important that we do it, because nobody else will. Is it so?

What we are living for? What are we grabbing to? What the thing we don’t wanna loose? Those dreams? That beauty? Those words? Or that imagination?

But isn’t it true that no matter whatever we hold on to nothing lasts? ... but still nothing is lost...

“If the doors of perception were cleansed everything would appear to man as it is: infinite.”

Star studded night. Dark. Cold wind is blowing through my hair. Continuous sound of cricket from the field on my left and a discontinuous howling of something from a distant are being heard. I’ve just walked through two decades wandering in these mazes of broken thoughts. Being lost in my thoughts I stumble on a stone. I smirk and keep walking into the depth of my thoughts...

THE EYE

2010-12-13T04:26:00.000-07:00

Let me see the fatal truth

Let me dream a dream

Beneath this blinding light

Heard a silent scream

Let me crawl down to void

To the infinity let me fall free

Let me dive into darkness

From a different angle let me see

Let me go to ‘nother dimension

Filled with screaming pain

Let me lost into a burning flame

Let me feel again

PARANOID

2010-11-27T04:04:00.000-07:00

I remember a face

From a half-waked dream,

Gazing at the sky

Heard a silent scream,

A quiet night

Wind’s blowing high-

Mind’s whimsical

Lost in time,

A distant star

Lost in clouds-

Sound of silence

That I’ve found...

TWO STRANGERS, A SILENT NIGHT AND THE BEATLES

2010-10-21T03:10:00.000-07:00

A dark, quiet, silent night. Only sound was of the blowing wind that was sliding down by his ear softly and also there was a periodic sound from the friction of the chain of his slow moving cycle. This was a perfect night for him. He was murmuring ‘While my Guitar gently Weeps’ by his own. When he was about to reach his spot he had to stop his singing to listen to a sudden sharp tone. He listened carefully. Then he changes his song with whistling tune of the night’s strange mouthorgan to ‘Ob-La-Di Ob-La-Da’. In such a calm night the song was not a fit but still it seemed sweet to him like a perfect contrast. When he reached the spot he found someone sitting on his place and playing the mouthorgan. From back, it was not clear, but the figure was of a girl with a white jacket and dark blue short jeans, a muffler of stripe design was covering her neck. She was so much lost in herself that she couldn’t spot his silent presence. As her mouthorgan stopped, he said, “Hi, there”.

She turned around with a shock but in seconds got back her nerves and replied, “Hi” with a fade smile that was probably saying instead of any company she’d rather prefer to be alone.

“You’re playing pretty fine... Beatles’ fan. Huh?” he said while coming towards her from his cycle.

“Isn’t it obvious, when someone plays their tune along in the dead of night?” she uttered in a monotonous tone gazing at the wide open field before her. He sat beside her and asked, “Yeah, sure! But why you’re here in such late hours?”

“I can ask you the same...”

“Oh, actually when I got nothing to do I came here to do something.”

Few silent seconds slipped through. Both of them kept fixing their vision towards distant stars in kinda awkward manner. The boy broke the silence, “What’s your name?”

“Is it that important? Whatever you want... well I’m Molly. And you?” she was still looking away.

“I’d say Desmond.”

She turned towards him and chuckled. A sudden soft night breeze blew through her hair. As she pulled back her soft brunette hair from her face, he just blanked for moments and did nothing but looked straight at her. He did not notice the beauty of her face earlier. It seemed like his answer about his name also did some trick. She showed interest and asked, “So Desmond, to do which of your great work you come here?”

“Umm... it depends on my mood after being here, sometimes I write few lines of poem or I sketch usually.”

“In such a little light? It’s hard even to see here.”

“When your mind’s open everything is clear. But what brings you here?”

“Actually my train... It’s delayed for some reason. And now I gotta wait till tomorrow morning.”

“Where are you gonna go from here?”

“Umm... Octopus’s Garden.” She smiled, “And you? Where you came from?”

“Strawberry Fields Forever.”

They laughed out. She said, “Desmond, you’re so funny.”

He smiled back, “So are you Molly. What do you love except Beatles? Let me guess? Singer in a band?”

“No... I sing terribly! Wish I could. I play this” she pointed to her mouthorgan, “You paint! C’mon show me your works. You got here some, right?”

He opened his bag that was lying beside him and handed over her a small copy somewhat like a notepad. She went through the pages, as she went her speed of turning page slowed down. She concentrated more on the freaky lines that he had scratched through his pages. Being like hypnotized her lips trembled, “Wow! Desmond you... you just... I dunno what to say.” After a pause of few seconds she added, “Life brings you a lot of pain?”

“Why?”

“Your sketches are saying so.”

“Actually life didn’t bring me that much pain, rather I search for it in life. You know I... I like to portray the face of this pain... screaming silence... death.... no, I never had that much of experience of pain but I love the pain.”

Some wrinkles surfaced on her face, “But you’re a Beatles fan!”

“Who said a Beatles fan can’t be fond of ambient black metal?”

“Oh, I see that’s why you’re full in black.” She seemed a bit irritated at his reply.

“No... I’m the blackbird... singing in dead of night...”

Folds upon her forehead reduced, she nodded her head, slowly uttered, “Yes, but... I really can’t understand how a person like you can love pain... Beatles, they always sang for love... for peace...for life...”

“You only heard the song of the blackbird, never saw the wing... its broken.... maybe you also forgot to listen to the sound of the gentle weeping of a guitar... these all are pain, Molly”

“May be... but still...” She reached the pocket of her jacket and was about to offer him a cigarette.

“What? You smoke? But it brings you closer to death, and you hate death. Don’t you?” he said.

“What do you mean? Do you mean you smoke ‘cause you love death and have hurry to reach it. Well, let me suggest you then, you needn’t smoke for that, hang up from a rope, you’ll reach your loving death. Anyway I don’t care ‘bout death, all I love is my life and smoke’s like happiness a warm-gun to me”

“Wow”

“What’s there to be surprised of?”

“You said just like I give people reason for smoking.” He took the cigarette from her. She lit up her smoke. Then she bent towards him helping him to get the flame.

She released a chain of smoke and asked, “So, what you say to people about why you smoke?”

“They say ‘smoking kills’, and I reply them, ‘...but everyone dies.’”

“Suppose someone argued, ‘but smoking makes you die earlier.’”

“Some people die early, but it doesn’t mean they live less.”

“Great. You’ve got a vision.”

“Thanks.”

“Well, Desmond you love pain, death. Can you explain why?”

“I think life’s most significant part is death, like the ending climax of a novel.”

“I see. Whatever. Forget this topic. Do you know there’s a great thing I saw there, just a couple blocks down. Wanna go? ”

“Umm... it’s not very far, right? I can’t walk much. Today I’ve walked a lot.”

“No... It’s just there. May be we can have your cycle.”

“Cool.” He jumped to his feet, “Let’s go.”

She took her bag and stood up. She noticed his T-shirt, “Great T-shirt. Where you get it? I’d like to have one.”

“I’m afraid you won’t get this Beatles-design wear in market” he looked back at her and smiled, “I paint it by myself.”

She awed, “Wow! Desmond you really got some talents.”

“Not really. It ain’t that hard a work, it only seems so.”

“Don’t be so polite, you’re really an amazing artist.” She said as she was adjusting herself on the front-rod of his cycle with her bag.

It was a bit difficult for him cycling as well as smoking; her bag was heavy. But her company made his work easier.

He started to sing in a low voice,

“When the world’s amidst the trouble

It’s the duty of you and me”

She looked back at him and smiled as he kept singing,

“Make a brighter tomorrow

Let it be...”

He drove down the road.

When he finished the song, she told, “Your voice is really terrible like me, but I gotta admit you’re a true artist, your words are just awesome.” He smiled, but said nothing.

“Now take the left turn” she said. That left turn was a lane narrower and darker. In fact there wasn’t any street-light, the only thing that lit the road was the sweet soft moonlight. She asked, “So, Desmond, what would disappoint you most in this journey?”

“Nothing... it seems like a perfect one.”

“Still, what the thing you hate most to see in the next turn of this journey?”

“Umm... I thing a street-light would disappoint me most in this dark path.”

She smiled in reply. They kept on chatting while going through the dark night. The Beatles were connecting the two strangers.

“Hey, stop... stop... it’s here.” He stopped the cycle as she said. She jumped off the cycle and took a deep breath, “So what do you think ‘bout the beautiful thing of this spot?”

“I don’t realise actually. What’s the thing you want to show?” he seemed a bit confused. Moreover, sudden appearance of a street light in the dark had already blown his mood off a bit. She said spontaneously, “This street-light! Don’t you like it?”

“Not actually, I told you what I would hate most.”

She smiled, “So what do you think about this whole journey? It’s all in vain?”

“Nopes... I enjoyed the whole journey, just hated this end-part. But it’s never gonna drag down the great feeling of the whole road. After all, in any case I’d love to see the glass half-full”

“So you’re contradicting yourself. This is what I tried to say to you. End is not all that matters. Like life matters and how you spend it, not the end part, death.”

“Molly... I don’t know what to say... you... you just....”

“...whatever I am you’re unique for me. We’re a perfect match.” She smiled.

He smiled back and said, “Let’s get out of this fucking light first.” And he stepped towards his cycle. She followed him and they lost in the dark.

Time slipped through the night so fast that before they knew sun went down off the horizon in the opposite side of the world.

She seemed disappointed when her alarm went off. “I have to go now” she said.

When they reached the station, both got no words left to say. Neither wanted to let go off the moment but time didn’t permit them.

The train whistled into the station and within a minute was about to go.

She stood at the gate of the train.

He couldn’t wait or resist himself.

“Won’t we ever meet again?”

“Why not?”

“But I don’t know where to find you... neither you know of me.”

“But I’ve told you where I’m going and I know where you are from. Don’t you know where to find me?”

“Octopus’s Garden.”

“Yes, Desmond, my strawberry-field-boy...” and she kissed him as the train started to move.

She kept on standing as long as she saw him standing at station staring straight to her. When the train bent out of his sight he took his cycle. She sat by a window, brought out her mouthorgan and imagining him singing a song started to play a tune. While paddling his cycle amongst the waves of human-wave he sang out,

“I’ve just seen a face

I can’t forget the time or place....”