The Traveller

The Traveller

The solitary candle fervently seeding a distant dwell near; below the moonlit street. Winter kissed cold wind caressing the flame lingering amid that candlelight dwell casting a dancing shadow of an open letter written with ink yet to dry out the wet maple window into a yellow street lamp. Silence followed the shunting rails and the smoke breathing barrel. He checked his wrist wiping the blood off his watch; a second past four; of the morning. Thin lines of blood scattered cold. The red falling over the ink yet to dry nested the blue. Silence followed.

He held the flame; leaving silhouettes of white up and pellets of warm red down the lantern. Silence followed. He should be leaving before the parade of sirens deluge the awaiting brittle night, he knew; but the silence around her held him tight for a brief moment. The sundown street grew brighter into the night. He checked with wrist for the last. Leaving her black rose bleed red over her cold hand, he left the floor; leaving the silence to conjure the night; and her.

The winter chilled sidewalk folded warm by solitarily lamp gleaming a dull, sun like yellow over that brittle nightfall. Footsteps out the scene followed for the fervent shade of yellow under that street lamp. He stayed; leaving tears of blood on the snow dwelling white road.

The silence bewildered with nearing sirens like a poetic dubiety. Four minutes left. He toggled his wrist for a before time. The sun fell out the sky for its night. The very night began. The silence. The yellow streetlamp started a flicker.


The warm sip of her lips, a cold kiss over a brew. Lost amid a melody of a yellow lit night, cribbed with rhymes. Near fiddling the far, strolling from a road, never dwelled. Farewell said the night for a day, for an end. For… Read more

The Yellow Light

In the distance from a window, along a silence baffled in front. A solitude yellow dim and bright, now and forever. Shimmering all nights, below the stars of the shire. Down the white star above a heath, stood there a portrait, faded. Lurking the dark… Read more

Along The Thames

The day closing aside, with blue shadows shattering away from those long stood towers. There I stood watching those shatters ravelling a sense of timelessness. A distant chime of a distant memory parched along side those rain kissed pavements. The day falling apart, along those… Read more

The Fault in Our Stars

For after, over a fortnight, burnt with timid strolling of its reclusive pages amid other stories, fictions, and poems, here I’m clenching its curtain, its end. The book, on a whole, like an animation, alluringly relinquishes life into a metaphorically withering love, utterly living to… Read more

Howrah Mail

February 7th 2014 Two hours ahead the banks of Howrah. A sense of nowhere ravelled inside the train. Much familiar sense I would say, the nowhere that always puts me back to the home. A typical morning of the state of Bengal, started to appear.… Read more