"The whistling of the train as it starts its expedition- With promises made to unravel mysteries Hidden in treasures in places unseen and unheard of The unearthing is all that remains -" If I start writing my travel journal, my memories would inadvertently take me back to days when rail journeys were in vogue, not air travel... Quite early on, while on the routes, I found myself sitting and sleeping on berths inside railway compartments. Our vacations were typically planned during the summer holidays or around Durga Puja. Tickets were booked in advance, and I would feel immensely relieved after the ticket checker was done reviewing our tickets...I had a fear that if something went wrong with the tickets, we would have to get down in the middle of nowhere, in a no man's land, maybe...where would we eat and sleep? A child's mind works on a fantastic level altogether. The lush green valleys, the flowing mustard fields, the twisting paths as the train turns and bends, the dark endless tunnels which bring us to light at the end, and the exhilaration of reaching our destination have all remained an integral part of my everlasting travel memories... Railway tracks I would stare outside, through the bars on the windows, which disturbed the view from reaching the eyes...When glass windows replaced them, it was full of haze and fog- distorting the view in weird ways...Windows without panes and bars are what I seek... Once, while traveling to Hyderabad during the hot summer holidays, the sun's rays directly pierced our faces, leaving them tanned and burned. I would wet my handkerchief in water and put it on my parched face for some interim relief. In retrospect, when I look at my photos from this tour now, I can only decipher my dresses; my face was blurred out, completely drained by the heat. During autumn, as we traveled northwards, the weather used to be congenial...the verdant fields through the glass windows acted as a balm to my ever-searching soul. As we all must have seen and felt, the huts and trees seemed to run away from us as the train sped forward. As we grew up, we understood it's not the trees but we move on- move on in our journey- the journey of time and life. Endless memories recur in my mind, especially the foods we packed and ate...we felt so hungry all the time. Sometimes, we would even meet friendly co-passengers, and occasionally not-so-friendly ones. At times, I wonder where they got lost in the crowd... Nowadays, we travel more often on airplanes...It saves time and trouble...but is devoid of those delightful memories of rail journeys, when we would eagerly wait for our destination. The voyage was equally exciting as the place visited, as they say. " The screeching sound when it comes to halt drums our heart for the arriving exploits, for we never know where the track leads us to..." By Nandini Sengupta @metaphors_of_life

The adventures of a mobile man: the new Superman in town!!! The superman is at work on his laptop Mr. A's day typically starts with yoga, a practice he never skips, even if the world goes upside down. His yoga routine consists of holding the mobile as soon as his eyes open to the world. The exercise primarily consists of eyeball👀 stretches across the mobile screen and a few strength training exercises with the gadget in hand. He first stretches his eyes upwards to glance at the notifications that appear on his mobile screen. Then, he carefully rolls his eyes downward and to the left (a quick glance at his wife) and with a deep sigh lessens the volume—his wife's deadly stare is more than enough to convey her displeasure at the noise of the phone without needing words. The messages her eyes convey speak volumes to him —something he has learned through regular practice and quiet dedication. His devotion knows no bounds as he prepares the morning tea for his wife: black tea with no sugar --- a taste she cultivated through the constant worries that come with the responsibilities of a long, successful marriage. It doesn't matter if the water has spilled, or at times when the water has dried up due to some important negligence(while viewing a YouTube short on his mobile, where a love story is met with brutal heartbreak). Perhaps, these stories give him a sense of deep satisfaction or validation that his love life is way peaceful than those characters in play. It is often said that love is an addiction, a disease, and a capsule—once caught or taken, only God can save the person involved. But who will save when one is addicted to mobile phones? Do you think God can help? Well, let's not distract ourselves and move on with Mr. A's routine. Now his work hours have started--- a long ten to eleven hours of blinding work. By blinding, I mean, even if his wife faints or an earthquake rips the earth apart, his eyes will still be fixated on the laptop screen. This is a classic example of transition from one screen to another--- bigger and better--- it has the capacity to engulf the person, even without his knowledge. Once, the gas oven was left open by him with fire still warming its companions nearby (utensils, I mean--- they miraculously escaped being coloured black and being rigorously beaten in the name of cleanliness by the boss of the household) !!!!! The tea is still prepared, and his wife still drinks it with great pride and accomplishment. How many of us(women) are blessed with such a romantic start to a morning???? Now, the day has almost come to an end, the work is over, and dinner is done. Mr. A retires to his bed with the object where his heart beats---- yes, like the folklore we read where the king's life resides in a bird secretly caged, his is in this object---- his beloved smartphone. His wife looks at him expectantly, wishing him to keep his beating life to his side and give a look at her, so that she can start her commentary of the day. But Mr. A has more fascinating stories to watch on his mobile phone. If, by any chance, he misses one of them, he surreptitiously transfers and saves it in his WhatsApp messages to himself. Recent Update: After much research and brain hammering, his wife has found a new technique----- she gives a final call: 'Either switch off the net and sleep, or consider your phone lost or dead." His precious object- smartphone This level of audacity comes with age, experience, and confidence that your partner cannot do without you, and you mean what you say. However, it takes years of training, dedication, service, and unconditional love to reach this point. This doesn't happen where a relationship starts with breadcrumbing and ends in ghosting--- words I have learned from my social media handles ( again, smartphones). Mr. A now goes to sleep, ending the day with a smile on his countenance. He knows tomorrow will be a new day, a new adventure, and a new opportunity to spend time with his mobile phone... "You can't touch his phone or it will become impious; with such reverence, he offers his daily prayers...." . By Nandini Sengupta @metaphors_of_life <*The concerned person, Mr. A, is inspired by my beloved husband Arnab Sengupta, who wanted this story to be written and published on my blog so that he can be a part of my writing journey, not just in person but also through my written words. The satire aside(in the story), he has always been a constant support in helping me make my career a success. Really grateful to him.>

A deep-seated angst unsettles her. She has so much to say- Yet words refuse to betray her. A train of thoughts and paucity of words-- Reluctance in speech, pitted against deep insanity. She tries to go verbatim with her thoughts, Yet there is a dearth of legible words. She refuses to use those three words, They are too clichéd and overworked- To encompass her palpable pause. Carefree she was with her way of life, Hardly did she know what awaited her in the future... Many times she refused To acknowledge her inner conflict, That made her variable and idiotic. The wayward gale outside her place Reflected her inner predicament. She was too intimidated to reveal her inner self. Prejudices, judgements, and disapprovals Might overwhelm her. IT was too sacred to depart her... By Nandini Sengupta. @metaphors_of_life

Springs of love, Dews of passion, Autumn comes with renewed hope After months spent in anguish. Nimbus clouds pass by-- Amorphous, dark, and secretive Inviting untamed showers for hours on end On the parched land of ungratified longing. Rainbow with its array of hues In a clear blue sky, Gets dislodged In piercing sunlight. A red rose standing alone On the top of a thorny stem, Narrating its tale of Withering petals... By Nandini Sengupta @metaphors_of_life

Dear Earth, As we sweep our feet on your soil The dark brown soil, sometimes rusty or pitchy The variety speaks for itself - There is indeed unity in diversity. You cradle us to a tranquil slumber When we recline on you after hard toil; You alleviate our pinching aches While sustaining the whole human race. When you are soggy after a downpour, Creating puddles for croaking frogs And children alike For the sake of sheer merriment; They reminisce us of the paper boats We often set sail To destinations obscure. Lush green valleys on your bed In stark contrast to parched broken lands; The delicate stalk of Petunia Pitted against the thorny stem of Cactus; There is a wholeness of creation In both beauty and ugliness. Nourishing your dwellers selflessly While your people are waging wars In pursuit of momentary sovereignty. Roots of saplings find paths through you, You show the way to a wandering pilgrim. You are our dear mother, To you, shall we merge; Showering infinite love and care Balancing the entirety in full dare. 'From one of your inhabitants... The specialty of this poetry is that with each stanza, one line is erased. This poem serves as my tribute to Mother Earth.' By Nandini Sengupta @metaphors_of_life

Rubrics of life. Tangibility of thoughts. Fecundity of ideas Manoeuvred by reality. Levelled roads, steep mountains. Red bricks, incomplete buildings. Unfiltered talks, random movements. Rejuvenation of unique ideas. Placated wavering faith. Calculation of insignificant arguments. Lottery of life. On the periphery of traffic signals. Kiosks of public booths. Long-standing unfinished lines. Images captured During eerie moments. A pressed tin can Loitering aimlessly by the roadside. A cow regurgitating The stale chapati. Smiling eyes Yet to reach the lips. Uncanny resemblance Of a stranger's face. Undrawn curtains revealing The wall portrait of the neighbour. Life comes full circle With a cup of brewing tea. By Nandini Sengupta @metaphors_of_life

"What is this life if full of care, We have no time to stand and stare." -William Henry Davies I consider myself immensely blessed to have been born during a time when there were no mobile phones, let alone smartphones: no Facebook, no Instagram, no WhatsApp. We had a landline where a few neighbourhood aunties would often queue up to talk to their loved ones( who were they? I would usually wonder). The only source of visual entertainment was television. Only two channels of Doordarshan used to pop up on the screen to enliven our childlike spirits. On weekends, films were telecast, which were like the icing on the cake for us. Nowadays, people are so hooked up to their phones that they miss the simple workings of life around them. They have no time to listen or pay attention to their near ones. Technology has distanced us in ways incomprehensible to the typical human psyche. Children are so fascinated and awed by this new toy that they often lack enthusiasm for actual conversations with real people. The current situation has further put out the matter to an optimum level. Reading is downplayed and frequently overlooked. They don't cherish the freshness of a new book as its pages are turned enthusiastically. Skimming new apps is more viable. When I was a child, I would always stare outside the window as I sat down to study (Well, I sometimes even zoomed towards my books as well). My eyes oscillated, watching moving folks on the street, some going to fish markets early in the morning; tingling of cycle bells as young boys moved around in them; scratching sounds of utensils as someone prepared early morning meals; office goers scurrying off to catch buses or trains and even some sparrows sitting on the wall discussing some exigent issues. There were houses, not stalwart buildings, where strangers peeked from their balconies towards other strangers. I lived in one such house and had experienced a neighbourhood where people knew each other in person. In those fleeting moments of observation and rumination, perhaps a poet was already born within me, which surfaced much later in life, in its true form. Despite all the changes around us, grasses still grow, birds sing, the sun rises to herald a new beginning, and people still fall in love... Let's hum a song In merriment- Let's relive the moments Lost in hurried days, Both sweet and bitter Are to be savoured, Life is a medley Served in varied flavours... By Nandini Sengupta @metaphors_of_life

From the ashes shall I reborn Like the phoenix will I rise- Through the crevices of my heart Shall divine light abide. My sorrows are my gains For they endow me with strength; Falling apart while I grow In the path of freedom, I flow, Mind so clouded with fears From there shall courage alight- Across the enormous sea of doubt A distant ship of hope will ply. Huge spirals of waves Daring to engulf all, The spirit must sail through Tending the heart's desire. Wings on fire with dreams ablaze- Embers drawing forth Must keep me flying. Through forests of uncertainty I transgress trodden paths; Fashioned and forged Chiseled and gleamed I prepare to search My true inner being. A purpose is all we need In our way of life This pertains us a sense Of being really alive- A tiny stone can create Ripples in a stagnant water A single beam of light Can illuminate a dark corner. Do count the small steps They do matter in the long run For however small they seem You have taken them with a mighty heart. If nothing else, I am that burning lamp By the edge of the door. # An inspirational poem about never giving up in life... By Nandini Sengupta @metaphors_of_life

Time to ponder 1) Capacity to think, intrepidity to speak... 2) Paraphernalia of redundant emotions... 3) Intensity in thought, brevity in words... 4) Untraversed path, imprisons uncertain Fears... 5) Debilitating pain begets unbeaten Strength... 6) Vulnerable minds in eternal captivity... 7) Unfaltering faith overcomes all odds... 8) There are absolutely no substitute to a contagious smile... @ Nandini Sengupta

Way to go... A rippling sensation in my heart, a deep sense of incompleteness, where words go missing into the periphery of endless memories, keeps coming back to me. A void within me makes me helpless, numb, and hollow. My thoughts provoke me to write, yet I am at a loss for words when I strive to do so. I find myself a dreamer in this quagmire of surreal human existence. I want to be free— to have freedom of thought, speech, and action. I don't want to be answerable every time. My thoughts shouldn't be questioned, and my actions shouldn't be doubted. My words should set me free... Keeping my mind in its proper place, I venture to start expressing myself through letters, forming unique sounds. I hope you love and enjoy them, in all their flavours. Keep experimenting........ By Nandini Sengupta @metaphors_of_life

Rain of my dreams A rainy day sparks a host of memories, from my school days to now. Rains are formed when clouds become dense and dark...when they cannot hold the water within anymore...drops of water travel down the human eyes as well...sometimes in joy, other times in sorrow... Rain is the harbinger of love, passion, ecstasy, romance, hope, and abundance... an abundance of greenery, beauty, and a state of calmness and bliss... Rain is poetry in motion...singing the song of life...in all its essence...dancing in ecstasy... unanimously showering love... When we were in school, we would often wade through vast stretches of water in the flooded roads until we could reach our buses...I never really enjoyed them, but I became proficient at handling a rainy day — taking off my school shoes and slipping into slippers, either wearing a raincoat or carrying an umbrella, depending on the intensity of the rainfall. Water reached my knees...I almost felt like a duck, with a missing beak and feathers. Now, I enjoy rain more from the vicinity of my balcony...drops of rain splatter on the railings and then fall off onto the ground...My daughter often stretches out her hand in total exhilaration and joy. I stand as a spectator, drawing in the scent of nature in its purest form. With time, I have learned to stay calm and enjoy the silence, listening to sounds that I would not hear otherwise, and observing the workings around me as they unfold. I let things be as they are... Here in the North, the rains are quite erratic. Sometimes, it rains heavily for days, while at other times it's pretty hot and humid. Rain has its own story...it brings both expectancy and uncertainty, the fundamental realities of life, offering bountiful surprises and uncalculated risks, both with their beauty and lessons to be learned in the process. Rain is the story of two lovers, Heaven and Earth, uniting after a long spell of separation...a deep inner sense of fulfillment, pure joy, and absolute love. The earth is revitalized as rain percolates through it, quenching its thirst and bringing it back to life from a dormant state. Just the way love is... "As the drops dribble on my neck On my arms and then my fingers Slowly onto my legs and toes It again merges with itself While landing on the floor; From Him are we born Into this world Unto Him shall we retire After the day's work..." By Nandini Sengupta @metaphors_of_life

On the top of a hill In drizzling rains, I stand Arms stretched out I pine to have all But drops slip by; On the precipice of a mountain When a piper plays the flute His tune reminds us Of days lost in a dispute... Mountains are what I seek- a sacred seat where my heart resides. A deep sense of calmness and belongingness pervades them as I behold them intently. A haven of infinite consciousness and awareness- aware of being alive, a true sense of being one with nature-twittering of birds, chattering of monkeys, squeaking of squirrels, chirping of crickets, and dancing of the leaves as they fall from the trees. The vast meadows where sheep graze and the shepherd calls after them as they stray away...the rains drenching the smiling grass as heaven unites with earth. Snows overlapping the trees and mountains with blankets of protective love...the breezy wind that shivers your spine, the lofty pines and deodars that look upon you with heartfelt wishes are all part of Mother Nature... The roaring of our zeal and enthusiasm of ascension of the mountain peaks, the jutted rocks where we falter and get wounded and then resurrect again with new vigor as we continue our voyage ahead. The perils of life that nature throws at us also act as a healer- opening our eyes to remain alert and enjoy at the same time. Mountains beckon me, they travel in my dreams...the long rides through the roads that bend at uncertain angles, bringing both surprises and uncertainty is a reflection of life itself. The tinted shade of the disc of fire as they illumine the peaks of snow-capped ranges is no less than a wonder. The clouds fly down onto the lakes whispering tales of love; fog translating a dazed vision of illusion of human life on earth, are all but messages of the Universe. The birds that fly away to far-off places in search of some hidden treasure rings in a sense of tranquility in the cobalt sky... I dream of joining them one fine day, a day when nothing will matter, no worries, no cares, no chores to finish...when I will be in an absolute state of bliss lying on the dew-covered valley, staring at the sky for hours on end, basking in the glory of being united with the cosmos- the gigantic space where countless stars sing at night the song of love and longing... From nature, we are born Unto shall we retire Thorns of our journey Are but pauses To unite with the divine... By Nandini Sengupta @metaphors_of_life