A wilderness that won’t let you get lost!



There is a beautiful reserved forest area in north Delhi, a wild area that has been caged within the national capital city-state of Delhi. Although it’s usually too crowded by commuters and university students, the Kamala Nehru Northern Ridge still in its vastness provides you the joy of solitude, if you take the road less trodden on. I can assure you, in this wilderness you will not get lost!

Strangle Me Softly



Resting on his shoulder, listening to the sound of our strange hearts beating softly, I exhaled my worries out for the last time. I tried to recall the words he’d spoken before and a few other things, but eventually I found that I couldn’t keep up with the side of me that was insulting me with the humongous issues that I’d so violated by thus lying there with him like that. I was aware, wholly aware of all of them, and yet there was no guilt.

I looked at his sleeping face, feeling his strange breath on my mouth. Only now I was finally getting to understand how very different we were physically. He’d warned me about it many times and yet neither of us seemed to have paid any heed to it. Our closeness now attested to the choice that we’d both made, a decision that we were meant for each other and neither of us would have it in any other way. I knew the future of this would be a difficult one, but we would have each other to take care of together. One last breath and I would wake him up and we’d pick up on what we’d left off before, and that I was sure of.

He would kill me. I knew it, that very first time I laid my eyes on him. I also knew I wanted him to. If I can’t have him, I’d rather be his memory, a delicious thought, a fantasy he would live with forever. But now I have him and he has me. It wasn’t just any situation, it was a simple, satisfying love that brought us together, in a way that I knew there was no other I would rather be happy with, than with him, in this way.

He was once my best friend, and I loved him then. I love him now, in a different way, which is all the same. Falling for him had always been easy. It could be explained to be as simple as a child’s stubbornness of not parting with her favorite toy even though it’s broken. She keeps trying to fix it, often failing, never caring that it doesn’t quite work in the same way. She just learns to love it in her own new ways, and it doesn’t matter to her – because for her, it never broke. She loves it, she’ll love it.

It was the same with Dusk. His internal world was just as complicated as mine, and maybe that’s why it makes it all too easy to just love him. He isn’t my prize, I didn’t win him. Again it was just love, the plain old kind that brought us together. Watching him sleep now, I can’t help letting go of any remnant guilt, and just breathe, and feel like suddenly we were just two kids finally happy of having won their prize.

Mind over Matter (Excerpt from The Return of the Forsaken


“You know, you’re adapting well, with all of it. Almost too well.” Virginia appeared in front of me, her hair messy and her plait end wet. Trying not to think about it, I couldn’t help thinking of anything else. I tried to get up but then the belt strapped around me awkwardly dragged me back. “One might actually buy it, if you told them you never left earth.”

“Why do you say so?” I was taken by surprise.

She grinned and placed her finger on my armrest, almost bending over me. She smiled at me, “Because I tell you this is my jet plane, and you didn’t seem surprised at all. Of course, I get it. You have probably a million planes at your command already, being a prince and all that.”

Now I just felt bad. I unhooked the seat belt. I tried to grin. “So, why aren’t you sleeping, madam? Your eyes will be rebuking you all day when we’ll be driving around bright Beverly Hills.”

“Just thoughts. Actually I was sleeping, and a thought woke me up,” she picked at the belt of her robe. “You don’t think it’s too warm in here?”

I shook my head at her and she puckered. “Alright, so it’s just me, huh! Wanna come with me to get some coffee?”

She was dressed like this, in a cute little overcoat and woolen socks on her feet, almost dressed for bed but then she had this plait on that gave you the idea she didn’t really plan on relaxing. It was hard to focus from the way her perky little figure undulated from faux drowsiness. I knew her too well, she wasn’t sleeping, and also that she wasn’t planning to either.

“You’re practically married, so why the hell would you want to go out in your own plane to get coffee with me?” I knew what she was playing at. I knew it wasn’t right to do that to her, all over again, but with nothing clearly set on my platter, I had very little space in it to fit her in. And I knew one thing about her, it was a wrong thing to do, trying to just fit her in. She was much too important for such attitude from someone else. “You could just get the attendant ladies to get you anything you want.”

Her shoulder arched in defense. She thought for a long moment. “Well, is it wrong to wish to talk to you, just for once, alone? Thought coffee would make it easier.”

I gulp down some more sarcasm. I hated myself right then. The constant part of me that kept internally tearing up about those same old things. And then the other was rebuking me for all those mistakes I didn’t commit knowingly, and yet I knew I’d commit them over a thousand more times just because it got me that special thing. Then there was that part of me that was hurling things things at me, knocking things over in my head, so caught up in a fit of rage, that it keeps trying to convince me of things I didn’t want to believe in.

I accompany her, to the rear end of the plane where they had the pantry cabin. I didn’t like the setting. It was exactly what I didn’t need right now. A closed space with her. But damn it, she just always has to ruin it for me.

She pressed a lot of dials trying to get the coffee machine working. At last I had to step in. I tapped the power button and it whirred to work. She covered her face, “I’m a mess! Gee! You’re right, I’m pathetic.”

She was goofy and somehow yet original. The truth was it was her unmasked naïve ways that made her so very attractive. “Maybe in some twisted era I perceived it as charm. Now, I know that’s what I’d been missing.”

She lets her hand drop and looks straight at me. Her eyes were the bluest things I’ve ever seen that drew on me like non-existent magic, silently asking me to believe. I couldn’t look away, for the time the machine whirred. It wasn’t hard to imagine, me taking her hand and just begin.

She could just have collected her coffee and we’d have been done there. But she just stood there. I stood there breathing, and doing nothing.

“You know,” she began, “I thought this would be easier.” Her eyes shone, and suddenly she pulled me in and kissed me. I was in over my head as well. Even though in my head things worked differently, this was too much to handle well. I knew there’d be no stopping once I gave in.

I knew I had to push her away. It was how it was supposed to be. “Virginia! Virginia! We’ve got to stop this!” I said around when we both turned up for a breath.

She turned away, looking hurt. I understood only too well. “I’ve been wanting to do this for a very long time.”

I look at her, and speak, “It’s been the same for me. But I’m sorted out now. You should be as well. It’s the right thing to do…”

She didn’t look back at me. She filled her cup with coffee and filled another. “Here you go,” she said lifting the cup for me to take. Before I could take it, she put it on the counter and turned around and began to walk away.

I snapped back to my senses and in a wild moment, I followed her and grabbed her wrist and pulled her back in. I muffled her mouth and silently let her eyes rake my face. It was unbearable already, to have her in my arms like that, to linger on a single sane thought, and it was the dead of the night in a sleeping plane cabin to begin with.

I took her neck in my hands and pushed her against the wood-paneled wall. “Girl, do you even realize just how much you drive me crazy? And with the fact that it’s just us here, you don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into. I might rape you here, and you couldn’t call on anyone for help even if you wanted to. If I wished it were to be that way.”

Her eyes eased up, but my hand still clamped over her mouth. I kept on going, “You little girl! You haven’t changed a bit. God, how hard it is just to be looking at you like this. Makes me try to be good and fail at it so inevitably.”

Her eyes turned defiant. Yes, she would tell me to stop trying. It was driving me insane. I said, “It was the same, back all those years before. How you got me wound up so tight, I’d be fighting myself. I knew it would never work out. These kinds of feelings never work out in the real world. I knew I respected you too much to be your boyfriend and treat you like you’re my girl. You’re not just some ‘my girl’ material. I knew you deserved better, you deserve someone who’d directly submit everything he possesses to you. Make you his queen – let you rule his home and heart. It was always like that. I didn’t possess anything, anything I could offer you then, nor do I do now.

“I’m not a good person, Virginia. We have real problems. You know everything, and it just makes me angry thinking, you of all people, knowing exactly how difficult it is for me to say no to you, you deliberately put me to test like this, over and over.”

I let go of her mouth, and she breathed. Unexpectedly, she hugged me. “Don’t say anything. I’ve missed this long enough.” I knew she was talking of our closeness, and I didn’t try to push her away this time.

Prologue of “The Return of the Forsaken”


I have spent countless restless nights, waiting, waiting, wishing for the end of the world. Wishing however is not the right word for it, since the word doesn’t cover it, aptly enough, the sensation, the burning desire that has consumed the best parts of me with it, over the centuries (or should I say millennia?)…Hell, it seems I do have lost my count after all! Worthless, futile has been this life, I know, I shouldn’t be allowed to live this life. I shouldn’t exist! Reduced to this weakling, I await death to come personally to drag me to hell, if there exists one, and yet, the wait is endless…

Am I dead? Can’t be, I am talking…but who is hearing? Someone definitely is…otherwise how would you all know about my personal rumblings? Am I alive? I don’t feel so…I have been hiding from all the world, people who are the off-springs of my own bloodline, in darkness, in shadows, I have been creeping around like the monster I am, watching my people die – in my own hands, some passing with time as well, perishing in bodies, fading in names… Watching changes everywhere, new lives, new faces, all the while I remained as I was. A stone. Harder than granite, I cannot fade. I cannot die. Yet nobody remembers me.

I am a monster, yes, I am. Suffering a fate, I’d myself brought upon me, cursed for all of eternity. I’ve just dragged on…without any family left, no friends either – just time and darkness, who’ve kept me company. But, I’ve had plenty of them. I have spent eons in my wait for the end, but fate doesn’t allow it. I have sinned, I deserve to be damned.

No, I deserve to be damned.

My “1st Very Inspiring Blogger Award”


I HAVE BEEN NOMINATED FOR MY FIRST “VERY INSPIRING BLOGGER AWARD” WENDELL A. BROWN a.k.a THE BROWN ONE POET, today. A VERY POPULAR AND EMINENT  BLOGGER, Wendell Brown and I share a brother-sister bond, and he is a wonderful poet and writer, who has a very sincere humble spirit which never fails to uplift my spirit whenever I’m, let’s say not in the best of my temperaments. He communicates so well, and with his gift of compassion his gentle use of words never fail to touch the spot on the heart that it marks for an aim. He is one of those special people who can deliver their messages well, along with the heart felt grace and continues to inspire all who get one taste of his gift, at his blog,  http://foreverpoetic.wordpress.com/. I am honored and humbled by his kind gesture. The special thing about our world’s blog awards is that we have to see each other through our words…and they reflect our hearts. That is what really makes this award and others so very special…they are real from our own peers! Thank you, Wendell A. Brown for the sunshine you mix into my world more and more, every day.

Being nominated for this award I must follow some rules that go with it! And here they are–

1. Thank the person who nominated me!
2. Share 7 things about myself
3. Pass the award to 7 nominees
Number 1. I have already taken care of .
Number 2.

1. By language and culture, I am Assamese. And I am proud of all things associated with my motherland, that is Assam, India.

2. I have never been average. Either very bright or very dull. In the matter of school, dull would fit in perfectly.

3. I used to stutter badly as a kid, since I had a hundred different opinions progressively forming in my mind in real time.

4. But then I stopped talking like that altogether. Through writing I found, stuttering turns into musings and comparisons.

5. I identify myself as just a little fragment of nature, and thus do not deserve to be treated anything that exceeds an ant’s expectation.

6. My life has been hard for me, but I take it as a challenge every morning as I wake up and try to blend into the average crowd.

7. I love the number seven, thirty three, the sun sign Sagitarius, date, 20th Dec, 2007, and as of recently I love the feeling of being in love…It makes you rhyme! 🙂

Number 3.
Here are my nominees whose sites are all very inspiriing! I like to congratulate all of them for their very individually unique abilities! No site is the same and I enjoy all of them immensely! Do not pass them by…its worth the visit;

1. http://foreverpoetic.wordpress.com/ (sorry, he is inspiring, I can’t help with that. so, congrats for your 3rd…:P )

2. http://zenandtheartofborderlinemaintenance.com/

3. http://allherliesaretrue.wordpress.com/

4. http://angelajanegraceblog.com/ or http://angelahickman.wordpress.com/

5. http://kyotzeta.wordpress.com/

6. http://celestealluvial.wordpress.com/

7. http://thoughtofvg.wordpress.com/

Me. Cyril Cliffette. Androgynous pseudonym.


I am 21 now, but from the moment I was thirteen, I found I had a very loud and unpleasant voice, because of which people around me always tried to shun. Since then I decided I should write as I have no other way of speaking, other than with my words, uninterrupted.

When I am cold, I am unbelievably hard and unmovable in my hatred that nothing can change my mind about it. On the other hand is I do not hate anything, until the very last point of forbearance and moral allowances. I love peace, beauty and balance. I try to love my life as I go ahead into it. I could better without a few people from my past who keep cropping up to ruin my present…

I am 21, standing ready on the threshold of my adult life, waiting for someone to just take my hand and pull me through. But it is as though I am born with some incurable curse that whoever it may be, I happen to start trusting in as a friend or well wisher, separately, unknown to me, also starts falling back on me, back-stabs me, ignores me leaving me to blame myself. Whoever I like, is also far out of my reach, (not the celebrity crushes) I mean socially unacceptable situations, well not exactly, since those stay crushes, and never reciprocated.

I’ve had an over simple childhood. And then the instant I was a teenager I was gifted with a super-duper over-complicated life. But inside my heart it’s one simple word, that keeps me going and that power is me. I know myself and that strongest I am when I’m being me.

Put the world aside, and at this socially small age, I have set out on my journey. I write books, I like to dream and write about artful life, fantasy, things we all wish to find our lives to one day attain. Perfection. I know I’m little out of luck right now, but soon my books will be out for general public. Then I hope I’ll have some of my peace. But then I’ll always be me.

I love you MyLutz,

Yours forever,

Hoping and waiting, Virginia

Syllabus *Scream* :@ XOXO


English Honors, 1st year, 1st Semester

Pride and Prejudice – Jane Austen

Hard Times – Charles Dickens

The Home  and The World (Ghare Baire) – Rabindranath Tagore

Short Stories by Modern Indian writers.

Ethics in Public Domain.

English Honors, 1st year, 2nd Semester

Jane Eyre – Charlotte Bronte

The  Mill on the Floss – George Elliot

As You Like It – Shakespeare

Othello – Shakespeare

Doctor Faustus – Christopher Marlowe

Shadow Lines – Amitav Ghosh

Halfway House – Mohan Rakesh

Ghasiram Kotwal – Vijay Tendulkar

Victorian Poets – Alfred Tennyson, Robert Browning, Christina Rosetti

Indian English Poetry- god knows how many else…

Individual and Society, a completely separate book and paper.


Help Me!!! At least call 9-1-1 for me…


PROLOGUE : Dusk’s Diary


My wife has always insisted that I should write about my life, the time I have had to spend without her, about the numerous adventures and misadventures I’ve had. She herself is an amazing writer, but she says she gets bored with her writing and that I leave her alone a lot, which indeed is true, and I am really busy at my work. But right now, since I have decided to follow her advice and take up the pen, I am coming up blank. I mean there isn’t really much I can come up, because when I wasn’t with her, I wasn’t exactly living.

Right now, she’s exaggerating the non-truth, like, I write really well, but then I have to tell her, flattery really isn’t going to be of much help.

But you, know, she’s as persistent as a Virgo. She tells me artfully, as if it was nothing but the truth, “Even now, you know, I have the only letter you wrote me, preserved. The reason is – it was really beautiful. Your fans would swoon over it and you know it. It’s an art you have – your writing.”

I tell her, “I know how I write, okay? Now…urgh, seriously, stop it. All the blushing isn’t helping my nerves, and I haven’t been in touch with a pen for more than seventeen years! Now, I might even drop the thought of giving in to your wish, and pull you right back into my arms and make you forget what you wanted me to do with the pen in the first place.”

“Oh, really?” she teases me from our bed, smiling wickedly, her deep blue eyes crinkling like they used to when she was a little girl. For a moment I thought she was going to extend her hand for me to take it and…no more talk about pen and paper for the night. But she surprised me again, “Now, you know you won’t think about it. Besides, you know, I know how to resist your charms, Mr. Scott.”

“Since when?” I asked trying to sound confident and flashed the kind of smile I knew she liked the most about me.

“Oh, you know since when… You’re married to me and fathered my three little children! That fact’s got to make you a more sensible man…” she was smiling. Such nerve!

“Well, if I’m insensible, I have to be something… I mean, you did marry me… So, a person, as sensible and wise as you must have found some likeable quality in me…”

“You just had to say you don’t want to tell me your story. I’ll assume, you didn’t even miss me, when I wasn’t with you… I thought you loved me!”

“I love you, I do. I just don’t understand, why I can’t just tell you. Why this sudden need to sit stiff and write? You already know the only reason I disliked school was because of the exams, they made us write. It was a different thing that I fared well through it. But I disliked it.”

“What do you want? I’ll do anything to make you write. If threatening is the only way that’s left, fine. I’ll make you sleep by the pool for a week starting from tonight. Okay with that?”

I fight back a groan. I already get to spend so little time at home with her, the idea of having to continue living away from her, yet being in the same house, was downright disagreeable. Alright. “Fine. I won’t harass you anymore by not writing. But whatever I write, you have to accept. No teasing, no funny looks or anything, later on. Agreed.”

She flashes me another one of her brilliant wicked smiles which I like so much. “Deal. Only if there is no me in your story.”

I say, “Now, that’s unfair… I don’t even know what you’re asking for.”

She sighs while I watch her flabbergasted. “I’d meant, your story mustn’t contain any exaggeration about me,” she rolls her eyes. “Since, I wanted to know what your life had been when I wasn’t there, like asking for something I don’t already know, I don’t want myself interrupting your account at the various interesting climaxes.”

“Now, that’s my story and because you wanted me to write it, dear Wife, I would write exactly what I want to write. And besides, the obvious point is, the story wouldn’t be a story if it didn’t have you, like I am incomplete without you, the story would be just as useless.”

Now, I see she’s the one blushing, the tip of her tongue pressing on her upper lip. “Oh, even after all these seventeen years, you haven’t changed a bit.”

I say, “Now, please if you keep talking like this, the night will be over, and I wouldn’t have completed half a page and I still would have an eternity to write because that’s how it was. My time without you was an abysmal sea, I couldn’t swim across, until the time I saw you again and you pulled me out.”

She pursues her lips. “Maybe, baby, you should leave the writing and come sleep. What would our children say if they heard? Or even the servants?”

I laugh. “They don’t understand English. The servants. Or did you forget it? And anyway, our kids are sleeping peacefully in their rooms. So, what do you say, love?”

She sits back against the cushions and watches me serenely her eyes full of love. “Not tonight, baby. And don’t think I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but there’s no way I’m gonna let you buy your way out of writing the story, Your Highness. You may be the king of the universe beyond these four walls, but both of us know, you are useless without me. Here I’m the boss.” She moves her slender finger in a little circle, putting me back at my place.

I take up the pen again with a groan. “But you’re not sleeping yourself!” I accuse. “Anyway what are you getting, watching me like this?”

There is a long silence. In a flat tone, she says, “I’m getting to watch you like this, Husband dear,” which undoubtedly takes me by surprise. She adds in an overindulgent tone, “Which I luuurve…about you.”

I smile shamelessly at the overdose of pride in her tone. I was surprised as it was one of the many surprises she was always full of. But I didn’t turn to look at her, because I knew I wouldn’t be able to restrain myself again this time, by what I would see. And in fact it was really only the two of us awake at this hour of the night. And both of us had everything but sleeping on our minds. Sleeping together was a different thing though. And I knew if I even so much got up from the floor, she would take an offence – again the threat of having to sleep by the pool, which I would never accept.

Finally I say, “Alright, but no more talking if you really want me to write.”

“Agreed,” this time she zips her lips as if we would be punished by some teacher if we were caught talking. I hold back my laughter at the irony. Earlier it was I who used to refuse to talk and she would always whine that I don’t talk with her. And now we had an un-expiring license to talk for all of eternity and she was acting like that.

Now, maybe it would always be like this, these mischievous adventures. I didn’t mind it so much, as her unconscious, maybe even conscious plots always end up making me livelier, leaving me with a more ambitious and zesty attitude. The challenges, the restraint and as a whole, the deviation from traditional husband-wife relations was what made the institution of marriage exciting for us.

Now, my wife had unofficially closed my access to our bed, just because she wanted me to provide reading material for her, wanting me to write and most silly was that she would be inspecting me! It’s like we never grew up. Or maybe it was because when we were growing up, we had been apart from each other.

Prologue – Shadows Linger Until Dusk (An Excerpt)


Things could never have gotten better… The prevailing damp and drab aura compressing my abstract personal world could never have dissipated. I was not only certain about it–I believed it, whole heartedly. I’d had my whole life predicted–outlined into fragments, so I don’t get too disheartened to pursue that unglamorous destination. See, I was more hankering after glamour, than I should have…

I’d dreamed of this…you know? How from being the most unpopular kid in my school, I would go on to get a mediocre grade out of high school, just good enough to secure myself into an unpopular nerdy college, taking literature as my honors, I’d pass out with a slightly better grade and become a teacher in some primary school, preferably somewhere in the south, where you hardly happen to stumble into any interesting people…to whom you stand a chance of revealing your secrets… and like that, with the meager salary and lots of free time, I would have pursued my interest to write books under a pseudonym, of course. If successful, great. If not, I’d die like that, unknown, unaccounted, under an unmarked gravestone.

Well, that was my plan. As you’re already suspecting, I didn’t like it too much either. Doesn’t sound very interesting, does it? Well, it is as it was. Helpless as I was, I had but this one chance to survive and none other at all…

Though it was all in my mind, I didn’t know if somehow my mother knew about it or something. As it seemed, or I suspected – she knew it, when, one fine day, she declared to me that we were leaving this town forever. Maybe she knew how much this town was depressing me, that it was chasing me off to a life of complete anonymity…

But that decision did it… and my life and plans were never the same again. Innocence and happiness and satisfaction began to appear as easy and real like other words to me.

Real beauty existed too…and like Keats had said it hundreds of years ago, it is a really powerful thing and can inspire you, bind you to worldliness, tempt you to explore so much more and find beauty there too…and then you find things that unselfishly offer you a recluse from hideous things, you’ve witnessed, been a part of, the pain, the recollections… Now, these incidents no longer seem to be the thorn in your foot…they begin to appear like the milestones you’ve crossed on your way to a newfound land and counting those milestones back, you want to make an account of your journey, from where you’d begun…and where you are now…

Now, I’ll begin, where I’d begun…