Stop The Rape


I am a sinful creature
An old feature
To kill, slave and torment
Leveling an entire land like a comet
I am a sinful creature
To make such a bil
Where i am born to kill
Through all the wars of men
One thing similar as it was then
Murder in the light
Excluding the fight
Brace yourselves tight
The fight still continues
For i am born of these raging fumes
A breed known to be corrupt
A breed that has no mercy
A breed that feels no pain
But i am not the type of my breed
What would i gain?
By doing such henious acts
But you can’t deny the facts
There is hope for good
For there have been men who have stood
For a better cause against all evil
A woman can’t trust me not what i am
From the high end cars to the small scale pram
To the comfort at home or the danger at the back of a van
She can’t trust me because i am a man


We waste water like this.

We waste water like this.

Water just pouts out of this pipe into the street. No one bothers. I guess it will stop when the groundwater is empty! Country of Ignorance

The Moth Diaries. Chapter One-The Prison of Change


Sometimes it takes a darker path to see the brightest light.

The statement could be applied to my life, but I wish I would have known that or maybe not. When you are convicted of a crime that you had to do against all odds, would you do it? Would you make the ultimate sacrifice? It’s a pity; there was neither judge nor jury to see my heroic deed at the crucial hour.

Mr. Sanders you are hereby sentenced to 10 years of Prison cum Rehabilitation and Psychiatric help. This was what society had given me, my golden reward for my heroic deed of murdering my wife in cold blood.  

All my wealth taken from me, all my love; I was caste out from the society I was supposed to build and contribute to. Here I am in an institution with psychos and estranged rapists as companions. No love could be found here, no comfort, discomfort would be the most sought after trend over here I believe.

The institution looks like an old age home; I thought it was a prison. It had a beautiful open area with three buildings, a common cafeteria, and a meditation center for the spiritual yahoos, a community center where I suppose you talk to the people about your feelings and emotions. But the jail part was coming, there were no rooms, it was just a disguise from the outside as the cell was shared by three people with small earth kissed beds and one toilet. What a site to see. Full grown men living together trapped inside a room for 16 hours a day while the 8 hours were extracurricular activities. I have to do this for five years or maybe more. I share my room with a serial killer, James and a schizophrenic patient called Dan who thinks there is another person living in the cell named Raldo, so technically to keep the atmosphere sane, its four people sharing a cell. The routine was simple, get up have food and pills, mostly pills, do a bit of therapy and gardening and rock cutting.

There are those occasions where it seems to be weird where sometimes I would sleep on raldo or stamp his foot or make him uncomfortable, I’d apologize but James would announce with an irritable mood “Stop encouraging him, he’s mad! There is no raldo, there never was!”, Dan would disagree, he’d cry most of the times as if he was bullied by his elder brother stating not that he’s not hurt but raldo is. The term brother comes into play because of the bond that has developed over the past few months.  Why would we hate each other? Why would we kill each other? There is nothing more that we can do here but just live out the rest of the days of our lives.  There were the occasional beatings we would get from the frustrated guards and nurses, but we would take it all.

Nine years have passed and we have become a family. A lunatic family but a family of brothers, the insanity of lying in a cell all day was covered by conversations of our past, our present and our future. Every Christmas each gets a chocolate bar after dinner, and so we did. The rain was heavy on Christmas Eve for a strange reason and the power was out. The backup generator provided electricity for the main pole lights, since our ventilator was facing it, we were lucky enough to get our cell all lit up. James bar was missing, he questioned us. None had an answer then desperation started to emerge, as he questioned us intriguingly. He saw the chocolate on Dan’s face and his bar on the ground. Five slaps to the poor chap as I come in between I try to stop it but he won’t restrain himself. Dan screams crying, “It was Raldo, and he did it!” James is furious, “You mother fucking, there is no raldo you dick! It was you who ate it!”

No! It was raldo!; Dan cries and keeps repeating as he lies defenseless on the cold floor. I push James towards the hard cell door.

“You want to fuck with me now? I’m going to wring your neck you get that!”

Family just got divorced at the moment. I realized why he was sentenced here. It’s quiet and yet I and James are fighting a loud and endless battle of strangling and biting each other. I try to push his hand away which Is strangling my neck, I can feel the air blocked and the sheer pain in my throat. I stamp his foot as hard as I could and he lets go, I catch hold of his neck and push him towards the wall. He punches me in the stomach and bangs my head to the toilet seat and drowning me in the water, flushing my life into the drain. I am out of breath, energy and the water is just consuming me. Just then I heard a deep voice apart from the gushing of water, I came out of it and caught my breath, and James was stunned. Dan gave James a right cross like no other with blood flashing out, he then warned, “It was I who ate the chocolate not Dan!” For the first time me and James saw Raldo. He seemed to be a very tough character.  The night was cold and we were wet, tiered and emotionally exhausted. We didn’t sleep, but were lost in a daze. I cried, not because of this but because I remembered why I was sent here.

Matilda my wife was an alcoholic, I could remember that day. It was raining and the power was out. Only the candles lit up the entire room. I and Matilda had a fight about her alcohol addiction and she just kept me away, I was low.  I cried to see that the woman I loved turned out to be an inconsiderate hell hath bringer.  My daughter Meg saw this and couldn’t take it, for this was not just once but many times that a little 6 year old witnessed such fights.  She went up to Matilda and screamed and started to hit her defending me, for hurting “Daddy”. She was way too drunk to change, way too drunk to realize. She pushed her away, got a kitchen knife and was approaching Meg; I heard a scream which got me to the scene. “I’m going to kill you, you bitch! Then will you stop talking! I calmed her down but it didn’t work. Meg was cornered and I was in no position to stop her. So before she could hack her I pulled her down, she cut my hand and was violent, only death would get her sober. I was her target now, but her aim was at Meg. She was on me about to finish her final blow as I was injured with not knowing what to do, I turned to see Meg’s face, she was weeping and begging. “Your next sweetie” that was something I could not bear to hear, I overpowered her by choking her neck and banged her head to the wall. She died.  The print on the knife was mine because I was the one last holding it and on her neck as well. Who would listen to a 6 year olds truth?

The rain stopped and I was crying, I asked “Raldo Isn’t it fair in front of God that what I did was for my daughter? Where is the justice in that? Why am I punished? Maybe I could have put her down, injured her, she could have got rehabilitated, she could have got better, and Meg would have had a mother”. 

Dan just sat beside me, as he offered a shoulder to cry on.

10 years later, my sentence is done. I am put on parole and I can meet my daughter twice a month. Over the years me, Dan and Raldo became quite close, we spoke about life, love and art. Raldo seemed to have a lot of information on Art. It seems he was sentenced here because he was an art thief. I wasn’t mad, but I seemed to have faith in Dan’s schizophrenic nature or his dual personality disorder. He was my best friend who thought me about life and how precious it was and he told me that if we are punished or go through a struggle and the choice is yours to believe that after this comes a new day of peace and joy, go through that struggle and live it because at the end you know that day will come, he also cleansed me of my guilt and asked me to move on. James was put in another cell. It was just me and Dan. Over the meetings I told Meg who has become a beautiful young girl about Dan; she was cool about it and wanted to meet him. Dan stayed at the institution, it was permanent. So I decided to take Meg there and meet him.  When I went, I was taken aback, I was broken on the inside and this time there was Meg to support me. Dan slit his throat and died.

At the funeral there was me, Meg and James and a father.

“See you in heaven you crazy old fool” said James.

Meg said she’d wait near the car.

I learnt that day that how I was supposed to continue my journey. How important the people in your life are. No matter whom they are or what they make of themselves.  

 I didn’t say anything. He lived for a short lifespan in my life, made a huge difference gave birth to a new me and died. I know deep down in my heart when I spoke to him or Raldo, I knew I wasn’t speaking to a mad man.

The End



Open Thoughts

“To teach one a lesson means to lay down your arms and let go of this
so called free will and bare what you truly are to your enemy”.

I have been trying to the extent of breaking down, and to reach that
pinnacle means to cross a lot of guarded gates and burning everything
to ruins. I am tiered of listening, i want to be heard then rather be
told. I know that no one gets what they want, but everyone gets
something what they want. Human beings have a lot of demands and they
are never ending, we always want more. For that reason; why can’t one
ask for a little more? That one being me?

I am a messenger, i am a reporter, a mode of transport and a means to
an end for some people. I am what i do, so does the not fulfilling of
my commitments make me a sinner?  Or what ever that i have said is
nothing but bullshit, and its not what i think it is?

Hard work never goes in vein, someone said. I don’t know who said it,
but that guy needs a whooping. These thoughts running in my head that
i want to achieve something but a huge mountain of snow just over
powers me and leaves me to freeze in the solid cold.  I am confused, i
cannot feel my muscles to lift me up, i am dazed by these weary
thoughts. Silence is all i require.

Bad day today. No one to share it with.

When the world stop’s to pretend


Seeing the shadow of my past
Seeing the oppression of the caste
A darkness that won’t last
It haunts my very soul
So we do what we’re told
We sleep in the cold
With nothing to hold
But each others hands
We lie that we love
We love that we lie
And kill each other
With a blink of an eye
When this will end?
When will this end?
When the world stop’s to pretend


Do you? – Bhagyashree Sarkar


Do you see her?
See her for the soul she is,
For the being she is??
For the woman she is!!
Do you feel her?
Feel her warm womb..
For the mother she is..
Feel her soft skin ..
For the lady she is..
Do you hold her?
Hold her little baby hands
For the daughter she is..
Hold her up close to you ..
For the LOVE she is..
Would you let her?
Let her live,
Let her make you proud,
Let her grow old with you,
Let her love you / let her be your love,
Wouldn’t you??  
Let her give you!

Another co-writer for the blog! With a beautiful stride of culture, urban attitude and a beautiful smile!