Love is just love, love is just us!

Love is being unconditionally insane.

Love is that shirt wet with her tears,
When she looked for a shoulder and you were there.

Love is that beautiful tender kiss to make her believe,
That you’d hug her till you live and even beyond eternity.

Love is that smile,
When she enjoys all the treasure hunts and the rides,
Just to jump off that swing to get cuddled up within you.


Love is that sensibility,
When you open that door for her and stand.

Love is that shelter from the pouring rain,
And holding her tight to protect.

Love is that hand brushing the hair out of her face,
To see that concern in her beautiful and deep eyes.

Love is that which won’t seek satisfaction or lust,
But yearning and understanding, it grows with time and trust.

Love is that which pulls and seeks,
But does not hate or push.

Love is that which can never be tamed,
But for once hold her hand,
Let her know how lovable she is,

Love is that, still untold,
As Love is love.

Love is Us !

..before falling silent forever again.

Cocooned within walls of flowing silence,
Speaking a language sans words or sounds,
Writing words in an evanescent script which left
Silent brush marks on empty pages of the heart,
We have spent countless hours, my love,
While the clocks stood still, and the world forgot to turn.

Its time now for the white noise of life
To intrude in the silence shared by us,
Lest our silence bury our love,
Beneath a mound of syllables, unspoken, unheard.
Its time now for words to gurgle and swirl
And inundate the islands of loneliness,
Like a river swollen, in full spate, bursting forth.
Its time, my love, to write a poem again.


Let our love roll with a drumbeat of sounds,
The desperate cacophony of chirping birds
Seeking a nest to rest their wings,
The ceaseless pitter patter of blinding rain
On a hard tin roof on a monsoon night,
The piercing whistle of a thundering train
Slicing the silence in the deep of the night,
The honking of horns, the swish of a plane,
The laughter of children, the tinkle of an anklet,
Steam hissing from a pot of freshly cooked rice,
The muted roar of a million hungry throats,
The splashing sweat from entwined limbs,
The incoherent grunts, muttered endearments,
A symphony of Mozart
Rising to a crescendo.....

.....Before falling silent forever again.

__________________________________________________________________________imagePriyanka Dey – Deep-dimpled girl, a day dreamer, silent-talker and a story-teller; you’d love the swirl and swing of her words as they tangle with human feelings. Writing comes really easily to her as she’d always have something to say or to express. Don’t believe me, I suggest you should meet her in ‘Neverland’ !

That unread love-letter by Ajmal Amir Kasab!

Dear Indian Judicial System,


Never in my life I felt so secure and pampered. I love you, beyond blood and words!

Warm regards,
Mohammed Ajmal Amir Kasab

Honour, killing !

We, the people

Rightly don’t rely on US, no more.
By us, I contextually meant 
United once we stood
Fell, anyway divided.

But with time and years, we see
Our tin-foil caps
Serve more as barrels of oil.
Those planes hit the towers,
But it’s our homes, which are in turmoil.



More of a wheelchaired veteran,
While those in Europe and in China
Are treated well with the young guns.

But to fire, we lack the
Crude oil

But to be good, we misplace the,

How would we be efficient, when are talent is happily,

To work hard, to achieve..don’t we need affordable,

We gladly call us, the developing to be the super-power
But aren’t we sinking more to sub-par?

Face the reality, stop dreaming
’Coz we are far less good,
Than we assumed we once were!

…what if, I do?

Admit it! You love him, isn’t it?
          Okay, where the hell did that come from?

Can’t you just answer?
          Ohh! Do you like that movie P.S. I love you?

You should answer my question.
          Hmm, I was trying to distract you, and I don’t even remember your question now!

Acting smart? I'd repeat it anyway. You love him, isn’t that true?

You do know, who.

NO! I don't love him, he's like a brother to me.
         What if pigs can fly?

Now how does pigs and their flying relate to what I feel?
         What if he is the last man left on this planet?

Is this a ‘what if’ or something game?
         What if it is?

Obviously, yes. If he were the last man on Earth, I wouldn't have much of a choice, but..
         What if he loves you?

I guess, it won't matter to me, would it?
         What if it does?

Are you trying to imply something?
        No, but you definitely are inferring some sense out of it.

Stop playing with words, they hurt my brain.
       Brain? You have one, really?

Don't over do it.

If he does, and that matters...I...I don't know. Why would you ask me such questions? As if, you do…
      What if I do love you?

We are not playing the 'what if' game, anymore.

She left me hurt and bleeding..

She was astonishingly pretty, but there was something strange about the way she smiled. She came breathing distance close to me, held my hand and pricked the tip of my finger. Red; delighted, she was to see my blood. Got it served in a plate and disappeared. The blood flow didn't stop!


Just to return after 10 minutes with a paper which said "Blood Group O+" :D

Marked by lovable mirage!

To dip that acid heart

In the barrel of wine,

To ripe that piercing cast

And embrace

That mirage called love.

Did he touch,

-Her brow

-With his crescent lips?


She hardly believed

Did he hold her close?

She hardly felt

A stream of

Gurgling emotion

-Poured forth.

A token of love,

-Marked her Fate.

About the author:
Shreya I am pleased to announce that my blog will have a post regularly by Shreya Chatterjee who is a writer by profession and a poet at will, apart from inventing newer ways of experimenting with creative expression. When not writing, she prefers traveling, reading books by fellow writers and reviewing the same and catching up with friends. Her debut book "Musings of a Wanderer" has been reviewed, appreciated and featured by qualified professionals. Get a glimpse of her writing on her blog at “A journey called…” or “A Vagabond and A Wizard

A hundred hearts would be too few to carry all my love for you!

"Anam, you are more than just you.." said Arjun curling his fingers through her hair. As they were so close, she could almost feel his breathe on her cheeks like those fresh blossoms, carrying the fragrance of first rain.

"Haan? Fine, I know you are drunk.." she replied back, and moves a bit away from him.

Do you really want to know?” Arjun holds her back and smirks.

Tell me please, what do you mean” she asked, while trying to let go from his grip.

You are..” Arjun paused, probably wondering about the exact description; those misty clouds; if you see they are just clouds but if you let your imagination loose they’d be what you want them to be, for you. Or like those apologues; how they portray so many human emotions and can still have that one definite meaning. You are like that broken mirror too, which even when broken reflects back your true self...

Wow! And you think I am so much”, said Anam and hugged him back really close.

No” said Arjun, with a smile. “All that and so much more.

To read more on Anam and Arjun:
For them love was more than love, more eternal … 

"I am cold, my feelings are numb! How is that fine for you?!" she was too confused and irritated at the same time. “Arjun, there is a lot more coming to make me feel worse than I am already feeling. After my first guy, I may never fall in love with anyone. My emotions have rusted; I may not feel love ever!”

Love may just find a way, someday someway!

Oceans inside, still smiling,
But a smile glued like those waves.

No, I won’t let it go,
As I have to be perfect.

Am I being perfect for me, you think?

I am being perfect for the one I love,
As she loves to see me in her love.

Isn’t it easy to smile, laugh and smile?
Isn’t it easy to never cry?


Being the one who everybody love is easy; you think?

I console my belief how she is better when I'm better,
My smile and laugh, is her smile and laugh too.

When she loves me, she is so happy,
Though probably that is half true.

She may hate me for what I actually am,
But I’m scared, and I fear losing her.
Arguments, billions I go through,
But I keep telling myself it's not because I'm perfect.

No, I am not the one, who is happy,
No, not because, I can smile.

For her, to see me as the one for her.
The Perfect !

From Toronto, Montreal ‘Slutwalk’ comes to India now – Seriously?

The word ‘slut’ is no longer demeaning as ‘slutwalking’ has become a global phenomenon with women world over donning shorts, fishnet tights, high heels and going on protest marches carrying slogans like ‘NOT asking for it,’ ‘Sluts are not as disgusting as Toronto police services,’ and ‘Proud sluts,’ to fight against chauvinistic remarks made by people like Canadian cop, Michael Sanguinetti who said, “Women should avoid dressing like ‘sluts’ in order not to be victimised.”


Slutwalking gained popularity in Canada after a judge, presiding over a rape case pronounced in his courtroom that since the victim was wearing make-up and drinking, “rape was in the air”. He felt the victim’s clothes and behaviour were to blame for her plight and decided to let the rapist off without any jail time, just probation.

These callous male views made co-creators of the concept and walk, Sonya Barnett and Heather Jarvis coin the term ‘Slutwalking.’ On April 3, 2011, 3,000 people joined the walk in Canada. This concept became such a hit that women in Japan, the US and Australia walked, to make their point heard. And now girls in Delhi, one of India’s most dangerous cities for women, will bring out their shorts and fishnets on June 25 to do the same. Looking at the way many actresses, even big stars like Bipasha Basu and Katrina Kaif, who in spite of being blessed with bodyguards, get mobbed by unruly crowds who feel it is ok to pounce on them, slutwalking may just be what we Indians need to make men understand that nobody, even the miniskirt and make-up wearing girls, asked to be raped.
by Gayatri Reddy, Deccan Chronicle. – June 8th, 2011

My friend Rashmi Rao shared this article with me today over Facebook. The moment I read this, I was clueless about my own opinion:

What? In Delhi, really? This should be called 'The arse-holes delight'
Seriously, I see no point!

While many Bollywood celebrities like Bipasha Basu, Katrina Kaif, Shriya Saran, Sayali Bhagat and many more have spoken loud supporting this event, I really doubt if any of them will come over to Delhi and participate in this event. Let me summarize their modest efforts to get some fame -

As empty vessels make the loudest sound, so they that have the least wit are the greatest blabbers”

Okay, I may bash these ‘loud-mouths’ a lot more, but coming back to the topic. I am sharing my friend Rashmi Rao’s no-nonsense views, which I thought was really practical and made perfect sense to me:

“After setting ur testosterone jumping..On a second thought this campaign has a point. But the way of approach is wrong. Woman shouldn’ t be blamed for rape just because she was wearing xyz.. In this country even children, woman clad in a Saree get raped. Rather they should have held a training camp for life skills and give away pepper sprays.”

I think women dressed in Niqaab/burkhas, saris and shorts are all considered equals by those letchers and frustrated men, who just lack any sensitivity, respect and empathy towards women. If they are out their trying to prove a point to the rapists, this event could come out as a major failure. Stop talking uselessly, if you are trying to prove a point to those insane rapists please get those freaks out in the public, hang them in the middle of the street or better leave them to the mercy of public. These rapists never understood the word ‘morality’ at the first place, a talk/walk won’t get them any sanity.

By the way, we all get robbed too; so shouldn’t we get all the money out from the lockers and the banks accounts, and start walking on the roads with it to make those robbers saner and more humane? Well..

And I am sure those rapists would actually come in mobs to see the ‘sluttish-dressed’ women, a treat for their eyes and they may even find their next prey here? Somehow this whole event doesn’t make enough sense to me. Another attention seeking stunt or an effort to get societal approval for the term ‘slut’ ? Whatever, I find it as a waste of time, resources and yes, traffic jams in this already super-crowded ‘Saddi-Dilli

Do you have anything to say or anywhere to walk? Or do you believe in actions, the real one?

For them love was more than love, more eternal …

Few days ago, Anam confessed she loves me. She has always been nice to me and I liked her too, but just as a friend.

Though I still use to go around with her. She could never be more then a best friend, I have ever had. Giving her a false hope was the last thing I’d liked her to have,, but probably I hoped against my own hope too?

I never gave her an answer but we still went around a lot. And as they say love has it’s own way to reach you, I eventually realised my love for her, there was something I felt for her too; and that was deeper then love. It was then I understood how important it was to be something to someone.

She was waiting for me there at Central Park, Connaught Place and not many were there at that time of the evening surprisingly. While she sat there, I went behind her and wrapped her in my arms. That hug, I thought was supposed to make her special and in love. Wasn’t it supposed to make her feel magical? Wasn’t it supposed to confirm my feelings for her?

"I love you." I whispered into her ear.

Arjun, I tried to get myself to fall in love with you.” she relented. “But I couldn't, I lied to you. For some reason, something is still stopping me to love you back. May be I lost the trust in love and emotions? I mean… I'm sorry. I don't know what I feel anymore. I think I’ll never get to know how it is to love someone… And I can't return anyone's feelings anymore."

"It's fine." I calmly replied.

"I am cold, my feelings are numb! How is that fine for you?!" she was too confused and irritated at the same time. 
“Arjun, there is a lot more coming to make me feel worse than I am already feeling. After my first guy, I may never fall in love with anyone. My emotions have rusted; I may not feel love ever!”

"Fine… No matter how much you are cold, I will keep letting you know how special you are to me! Ohh yes, even if you are unable to love me back, I will have that love for you as a smile on my face for you, always!"


Five years later, they are married. Arjun with his love, made her realize that even if she was unable to feel those same emotions as he had for her, how it is still possible to melt someone's heart, for even a millisecond which can last for a lifetime. It was Arjun who made her realize how easy lust is; or how hard love could be; but liking someone is the most difficult; and it was only after sometime Anam realized how anyone can be passionate and crazy, but it takes a lot of persistence and hopes to be in love, real love.

Indeed, love never has any ending, but a new beginning every second ! :)

Not just another girl in the metro!

She is

Her thoughts are


Her regrets

Yet her eyes expressed

Wrote this as text on my phone, while travelling in Delhi Metro from Preet Vihar to Pragati Maidan to meet a friend. There was this girl standing right opposite to me in tears. Call me weird, but I started typing something on my phone and after every three words I stared at her to find more words and expressions. And after sometime she noticed me doing that, and asked me if I found her funny. I showed her what I typed on my phone, and she just gave me back a hidden smile. No, we didn’t talk after that, I got down at Pragati Maidan, but she was not just another face, as I looked at her deep eyes for one last time!