Thursday, January 11, 2018


Yes, you know me.
I am psychopath
I am reckless
I am impatient.
I hover, I nag, I shout and I shit
I fight, I blabber I nag and I bitch
I hurry, I skip dates, I prentend listening but I care no more.

So, yes-
Yes, I am brutal
Yes, I am vague
Yes, I am despicable
And, yes-
Yes, I am the one you threw away
Yes, I am the ashes of your pyre
Yes, I am a convict of my own desires
Yes, I am my own worst enemy.
Yes, I am all that you say or even more...
and then may be none of it.

Because, I know something that you don't.
I know that I have a say-
That my eyes have seen things
far torturous than you could ever dream.
That my skin has endured things
far lethal than yours could ever feel.
And, that my life has been a sore until I masked myself the wraith you
see today at a point far too maddening than yours have ever come across.
But still-
My fingers hold the kindness
More than that your entire body could ever take. 
Whilst I intend to explore the depth of your soul
You dwell into my surface to scratch only skin deep.
And when I open into capabilities of loving infinite
Comes your finite sense of judgement which was forgiven already.
For I wasn't born of what I have become.
I know myself more than I do you.
That my name is Kajol Aikat. And so it will be.

Saturday, September 16, 2017

Write India 2 Begins: A Times Of India Inititative To Recognize Young Writing Talents in the Country!

There were times when the entire publishing industry was either biased or rejective to new-born talents in literature.

Where on one side, established authors were continuing to hold their anchors and make a living, lots of new coming authors were unfortunate enough to not being able to make it into the world of Indian English Literature.

Though the emergence of several coming-of-age authors and their success stories beckoned a path to be followed, there was still a gap of proper mentorship and quality control.

Because, the new authors were somehow needed grooming to deliver the content, Indian Literature was demanding. And what it really required was a well-driven platform.

Seeing that potential area of improvement, Times Of India, the major media giant of India, initiated a special hunt for India’s fresh writing talents in the year 2015, called the Write India Campaign.

TOI ensured to provide maximum exposure to young talents and carve their work with the best minds in the country.

So, the first year of this campaign included big names like Amish Tripathy, Chetan Bhagat, Durjoy Datta, Preeti Shenoy, Ashwin Sanghi along with many other veteran names.

The campaign invited the young writers to write one short story based on a plot determined by respective mentoring authors. Upon selection (based on the merit of the creative writing) each writer would get an opportunity to become a published author under the guidance and grooming of the listed names and more.

The first round of this grand initiative was well received and fetched immense success with around 1.5 lakh registrations and 25,000 short stories received in a span of 11 Months. 

It discovered top writers from across the country and 36 winning stories were published in the form of a book in November last year. 

Now in 2017, TOI is again here with the same objective and mission but even grander in its approach.

The hunt for India’s fresh writing talents has already begun with The Write India Campaign 2.
Times Internet, and star authors like Jeffrey Archer and Ruskin Bond, are all set to uncover India’s story-telling potential in the second season of Write India campaign.

Times Internet’s flagship news platform has launched the Write India campaign Season 2 to uncover India’s immersive story-telling potential.

As it is already proven, the Write India is an unprecedented crowd-sourced short story contest for which TOI sets up an eclectic line-up of world-renowned authors to inspire, encourage and evaluate budding writers and amateurs.

This year’s panel includes celebrity authors-- Sir Jeffrey Archer, Ruskin Bond, Sudha Murty, Twinkle Khanna, Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni, Anand Neelakantan, Shobhaa De, Manu Joseph, Namita Gokhale and Nikita Singh.

The entire campaign will run for a period of 10 months, until 30 April 2018. Each month, one of the celebrity authors will share a passage for budding writers to weave a short story around, stories will be curated by Write India team and then, top winners will be selected by the author of the month.

To begin the campaign on a high-note, Anand Neelakantan, author of the famous Bahubali trilogy, has been announced as the author for the month of July. 

And just like the previous season, the winning stories created during Write India campaign will later be compiled into a book and published by TOI. 

At the end of the year, TOI will also organize a workshop for the winners where they will be mentored by the aforementioned celebrity authors.

This would not only ensure a headstart to the writing career of the selected aspiring writers but will also gift them with unmatched exposure and developed skills, nourished, brushed and clayed in the hands of biggest names of Indian English Literature.

So, now (thanks to this wonderful initiative by Times Of India, and its alliances) we do have one platform to showcase our unseen creative abilities and make an identity of our own under the lights of such big names of literature.

So, is it wise to wait for any further or just log on to to submit our stories and live the ever-seen dream of becoming a published author?

Friday, March 3, 2017


The flame that soothes, is the one that rages.

A thin line, drops down his eyes. A very thin one, at that. Sitting on the couch in that empty and almost unlit room, with even the sun rays of the setting sun, struggling to disperse in... he was consumed in his thoughts.

His, face, as dusk as the one falling outside, stern and expressionless. His eyes red and hairs messed. He hasn’t bathe for last few days. His odor stinks. He looks around and pulls the crushed hash close, fills the chillum and inhales the puff. What he breathes out is a grayish thick smoke and air gets filled with the narcotic. Ambiance was literally intoxicating.

He blinks, very slowly, raises his chin and looks straight at the mirror in front.
'What are you doing?'
'Destroying what has remained.'

He grins, sly. Blinks again.
Somewhere he knew, he was angry. Or, sad... or maybe, both. Being cheated is not a good feeling, being lied is better. Being stolen is worst. He tries to rearrange the order... may be being lied is worst, being stolen is better, and, being cheated is worse.
'Fuck it!'
He has been through all three.
'It doesn't matter.' 
he grunts.
He moves his head, his body felt heavier. May be, the stuff was taking its toll.
'Not anymore!' 
He clenches his fist.
One moment, all paused, as if something was about to happen.
with that shout he thrashes the table aside, spilling the water and breaking the chillum into two.
He lights a matchstick and picks up a photograph kept aside- he and his lady, may be a girl, smiling at each other, either's eyes filled for the other. 

They were near some lake, or may a be a check dam. He looked far better a person than now- healthy and happy. He's well dressed... all sober. So, was the girl.

He raises the photograph up to his face, holding firmly.
'I do not want to blame you for anything, maybe it was all my mistake...'

But, he knew , it wasn't entirely his part. He blinks again, this time more rapid.

'Trust is a choice, not a demand.'
‘Memories… haunting… NO!’ 
(...and hrows the photograph away, somewhere in the dark room.)
Meanwhile as the flame reaches the tip, his finger burns. He drops the matchstick… the water beneath him catches fire. The flame was blue- alcohol, it was.

He watches the room catching heat.
 He tries to sob- as the room lit up with the fire, he saw everything burning, the photo frames, the wardrobe, the cushions… everything. But, the last drop of tear was shed.
He jumps, at sudden, and picks the photograph from the surface, to which the fire was approaching slowly. Though it is already half burnt at edges. 

As the fire reaches his feet... he steps backwards, to the couch.  
(...and sighs.)
           'It's cold here.' 
(says he while putting on his jacket and the photograph under its sleeves.)
He knew that this fire would consume everything eventually.
'But, not now.'
And so, he walks out of the room slowly, far away from the ashes of what's already gone.

Wednesday, February 22, 2017

The Morning Hue

As the first ray of sun, dispersed through my tinted window glass, golden and bright... I tossed around the bed sheet... pulling out the covers... my eyes, slowly opened to the hue. Blur. Then, it slowly cleared, making me conscious eventually. However, my eyes were burning- my sleep wasn't complete. A mere three hours' sleep is inherently inadequate by normal standards anyway. 
Not that I didn't want to. I used to be a deep sleeper. Lazy as well. But now I couldn't, for, each time I tried to sleep, I had nightmares.

Another anxiety hit!

Things have changed now. Talk basic- I usually slept topless, only with the trousers on. But today, I had a T-shirt, for, the nights were now colder than before.
Then, if it had been a year or a half ago, I would have opened my eyes with a smile. A new text message would drop in- may be a sweet Good Morning, or something likewise. And, sometimes she'd show up in person... give a soft hug, may be a kiss, or a peck on cheeks. Or rather none of it. Instead she'd drain a bucket of cold water over my half naked body. But, I would pull her close, into my arms, almost clenching the waist, and then, we'd kiss like animals until either of us skips a beat. 
In either ways, she would make my mornings as warm as the intruding sunlight.

But now, it is only the sunlight that didn't change. 
The morning  texts are now gone- and they're never gonna come back. I was, all at sudden left out, in the middle of my happiness. And, her departure, put a permanent dent on my sanity. 
By the time, I have forgotten to smile. It has been a long time, since, I laughed whole heatedly- like a loud guffaw. My ear to ear grin is now a rough and stern expression, which only makes me feel how vague my life has become. Tables have turned upside down, and, before I could collect the pieces, understand what has gone wrong... everything was burnt into ashes. 
I might sound retrospective, but, every time I tried to face the reality, the memories haunted me. It was like, standing over that abyss, where even the last ray of hope dies. Where you stop caring about things, and you're dragged to madness. And then, a free fall! It is only a matter of time, when you realize that you have already become a monster. 
And, this monster, didn't let me sleep. 
Do you know a thing about depression? It's a grey place. A prison, where you are both the suffering prisoner and the cruel jailer. 
Every night, I would keep staring at the black roof my empty room- with just one bed, the closet and a television. The fan would keep creaking, and until my eyes are tired enough, I would remain awake. 
And, like every other morning, I woke up today to another dull day. For, I had sold my soul to her, and now, none could fix what she has broken.

I jumped up on the bed, yawning and breaking the remaining dizziness. I had to get fresh now. Then later, may be finish the book, I left half, last night. Those were now my only escapes to peace, though very temporary. 
I sighed, pinched my eyebrows, and, rubbed my face- my hairs, almost messed up. 

The bestrewing rays were still warm. Warmer now, I guess. I winced, wondering-
Should every bygone be bygone? 

And, all I heard back was-
How does it matter? What's gone is gone anyway.

Monday, February 13, 2017

The Vintage Rain

So, it rained like yesterday,
One drop over that vintage skin-
And, one on the glass astray.
The lusty warmth of the wet soil,
Fell over the rocks and the narrows.
Like one earth finding its contemplating shadow.
Two worlds- neither together nor apart;
Taking everything in notion-
just blew away.
Tossing the grass green,
Like a confluence of several arcs.
It rained like yesterday,
One drop over that vintage skin.

Every moment, making a crisis,
The shadows screaming loud.
Like one hand over the other-
aloof and astound.
The chaos of the heaviness,
the heaviness of the slow breathes.
Those mixed with noise 

in the psych of sanity;
like the moisture of the window screen.
And, it rained like yesterday,
One drop over that vintage skin.

For, it is naked nostalgia,
Everything just, yet, brutally vague.
Naive gestures of those nerves,
Taking toll over the tender rage.
When it felt all numb,
Yet brutally pleasant.
The rotten smell,
of the smothered soul...
And that noise of silence-
Mixed in a chaos of solitude.

It always rains like yesterday,
With one drop over that vintage skin.

Wednesday, July 31, 2013

The Binaries

Zero and One. The binaries.
But this is no maths class.
Rather, an account on the evil that is Discrimination.
We see discrimination often, almost everywhere around us.

According to Wikipedia-

Discrimination is the prejudicial and/or distinguishing treatment of an individual based on their actual or perceived membership in a certain group or category, in a way that is worse than the way people are usually treated.

I too have an opinion though-
 The concept of zero and one.

Lets talk about the zero, first.

It is said that, all of all started from Zero! Before the universe came, it was Zero and after the Universe is gone- it will be Zero. All of us, the Earth, The solar system, the Plants, the Animals, Humans.... came from that Zero. Well, to justify my statement- it has a scientific side as well- we say, that we can put all of the universe in between the natural numbers of 0 to 9. The natural numbers itself, start with zero and end on the same! It is the zero that starts everything, and it is the zero that ends all.

Now when you came along the concept of Zero, let me take you to the concept of one.

Though Zero is the creator and destroyer of everything, it can't preserve creation all on its own! So, One came into existence- One is element that binds us all. We are One! Scientifically, every single number is a combination of one and zero, eg., let's take 6 , if you simply it, it is a combination of  1+1+1+1+1+1+0... take any other number, you'll get the same combination with varying counts of these binaries.

What I'm trying to say is-

We, irrespective of our caste, creed, language and diversities, are one who all came from zero. If you can consider, the one with Humanity & Zero with what we call God - you'd get a better view of that. Humanity is the force that binds all of us. We started from Infinity and will end up on that only.
Discrimination happens when you don't believe in oneness and differentiate the zero from one. We all know that Discrimination is evil but never looked on how we can end it. To end it we must equate the zero and one and when we'll do it- we can put our force on the face of discrimination and can see the God we search everywhere for.

 So at the very end,
To end differences, we must equate ourselves- we all are equal because we all are humans- we all are zero and we all are one!