The best way to know the self is feeling oneself at the moments of reckoning. The feeling of being alone, just with your senses, may lead you to think more consciously. More and more of such moments may sensitize ‘you towards you’, towards others. We become regular with introspection and retrospection. We get ‘the’ gradual connect to the higher self we may name Spirituality or God or just a Humane Conscious. We tend to get a rhythm again in life. We need to learn the art of being lonely in crowd while being part of the crowd. A multitude of loneliness in mosaic of relations! One needs to feel it severally, with conscience, before making it a way of life. One needs to live several such lonely moments. One needs to live severallyalone.

Thursday 19 November 2015


Here was the romance of growing up
In the days of yore when it was all throwing up
Then, life had no aims to think on
Then, life had this thing to always move on
Come what may
That was the only way
That was the romance of those pre-college years
When eyes followed eyes, when ears were just ears
A fancy bicycle or an open rickshaw ride
The days were as narrow as the choices were wide
Sometime, it was all about that comic book
Or a routine hide and seek in every possible nook
That orange, or red, or green, or cocoa ice-cream
Was like a trophy in every night’s dream
The joyous rupture of getting a cricket bat
And then some lashing words from that uncle fat
Oh, that daily craving and charm for hot brews
Starting the day early on a sporting cruise 
Thinking that everything could be yours
And all you needed were multiple doors
And you would go to every shore
To try with your random oar  
Come what may
That would be the only way
That was the romance of growing up
Walking and dancing and showing up
No matter if it didn’t make you feel comfortable
No matter if it didn’t conform to some label
All that mattered was the inner urge
Something, that was notorious for its impulsive surge
To get things done, to meet them all
When past didn’t matter, when future didn’t make it fall
When eyes followed eyes, when ears were just ears
That was the romance of those pre-college years 

©/IPR: Santosh Chaubey -