Afternoons in Calcutta are as lazy as they can get. After having that delicious, filling, albeit often not so healthy lunch or “mid-day” meal you cannot help but feel that sense of lethargy creeping into the body. It begins with the eyelids feeling heavy, followed by successive yawns and finally, your body muscles cannot take it any more and you just want to jump into the nearest bed that you can find (obviously, home is where the heart is, but still). It’s called a ‘nap’ or ‘siesta’ to put it simply, and it makes you, or atleast should make you energized and refreshed for the rest of the evening. In this city, the afternoon siesta is a luxury for some, and a necessity for others. Whatever you may be doing, resting or shutting your eyes for atleast a few minutes in the day is an absolute necessity (atleast i feel so).

The funny thing is, we all end up behaving (and being) like quintessential cats at that certain time of the day, and adopt the habits of our feline friends either consciously or unconsciously. 😅😅


She wrote a poem.

She once wrote a poem

About the desires,

The aspirations

That occupied the recesses of her mind

When she was both conscious and unconscious

They came after her, lurking in her dreams

Telling her to chase them with all her might

For you can’t wait for tomorrow

While the present moment fleets past unseemingly..

© Devangana


You Owe Me!

Don’t you know me

Don’t you think that it gets lonely

It gets dark

Inside my head

Check my pulse, and if I’m there, you owe me!

© The Chainsmokers


Grandma’s birthday

My grandmom turned 84 today. Completed 83 and stepped into her 84th year of existence, to be more precise. Since the early teenage years of my life, she has been an inspiration and a guiding example for me as to how to carry on and find meaning in every new day, given that she had completely lost her vision in early 2006, following which she came to live with us at our apartment in Noida so that my mom could take care of her and her daily needs. Just after those initial years and uptil today, she has kept herself in a suitably jovial and jocund outward disposition even though she cannot see a thing sometimes. I often wonder as to how it is that she carries on with life regardless of the fact that she sees darkness looming before her when she wakes every morning. The very prospect of not seeing objects as they are before one’s very eyes scares me to no end.

All that I can say is that she is a really admirable person and an inspiration for anybody who comes across her as a lesson in human endurance and perseverance.


A poem a day

A poem a day

Makes misery go away

You can let it out

All the trapped emotions

Plaguing your very soul

Every thought and experience

Shedding it’s weight on your mind

The worst part is, you cannot change things

Acceptance is the biggest virtue.

I have learnt it the hard way…

© Devangana.



Sometimes, just sometimes

My mind wanders off far far away

To distant lands of fervour and glory

Where I would find something waiting

Something hitherto unseen, unheard of

Beautiful meadows full of blossoms

Of colours bright and beautiful

No man can feel even the slightest dullness

In such an environment


Don’t we all wish to attain that perfect sense of harmony and nirvana?

© Devangana Bose


Under water

I hold my breath

The flowing, meandering waves encompass my very being

A heaviness descends upon my being as I make my way through the depths of the ocean

Miles and miles of crystal clear reflections

I feel it hit my skin and make me feel alive once again.

Because before, i seemed to have lost my senses

In that depth, that abyss

Of the deep dark ocean.

© Devangana Bose


She writes.

She writes

To relieve herself of the pain

The immense weight of the world.

To give voice to all the trapped emotions, the feelings, the unsaid

The misunderstood

All that was left to be told, to be shouted

But couldn’t.

There she lies in wait

Of something to come, a miracle of sorts

To set her free

From all worldly constraints, problems

And ugly truths.

Her name is hope.

And she is that four-lettered word.


A spoiler-free review of the Netflix show ‘Dark’

Dark, the German Netflix series, is possibly one of the most ominous and bleak storytelling masterpiece that we have been served up. Since, this will be a totally spoiler free review, I will focus more on the overarching themes and intricacies, rather than using events as a lure. The aim is not to make Dark, this compulsion of a series like Game of Thrones, where if you have not watched a single episode, one is deemed as living under a rock or a social outcast. The aim is to highlight the absolute brilliance Dark offers, by weaving the complexities of a person’s past, their emotions, and how everything they are currently doing and has done in the past, is interconnected with the greatest enemy of all, Time.
The setting of the story, feels eerily like the one in Stranger Things. A small town with a nuclear plant, sounds like the makings of a sci-fi thriller. What Dark does is interconnect these lives, their actions, what they feel with frequent flashbacks. But as the series progresses, revelations will leave the viewers gaping at the brilliance of storytelling. Since, these revelations are not made to shock the audience into making reaction videos, but rather it portrays the significant role every person has in someone else’s life, and how a single choice has carved out their lives. Yes, it bears similarities with Predestination, but while Predestination is a film on self-sufficiency and time travel, this is on the contrast a series of dependency and time travel. Here, you do not root for characters, but rather you are left helpless with the fact that, every choice of theirs is pre-made. Hence, you love these characters so much more. It brings out the deepest secrets of a person, and the viewer is not allowed to polarise his/her opinions regarding someone, since even the sin committed, was out of a helpless choice.
The above paragraph must feel quite abstract, but that is because I want you to experience this meandering river of a story, with its sudden creeks and gushing waterfalls representative of the suspense and twists, from the get go. The story starts with the suicide of a father with a letter, only supposed to be opened after a particular date and a particular time. This is soon followed by the kidnapping of a young boy which sets in motion a chain of events, which finally results in a devastating conclusion, but again, a conclusion that was pre-written. And reaching the conclusion is a stellar cast, where everyone is vulnerable, everyone has wrongdoings and every action has a consequence. I am not a guy who knows his way around a camera, but every scene carries a meaning and there is a lot of premonitions and hidden details if one watches closely. Every scene is an information, which highlights a certain aspect of a person’s character, however small that maybe, because something as insignificant as birds dropping dead from the sky, comes with a reasoning and a small detail, contributing to the larger picture. Often the dialogues are double-edged as well.
A typical example of it is a conversation between two women, where one is having an illicit affair with the other’s wife. When the wife confronts the adulterer, she replies with its over between us, and keeps repeating it. But as the camera pans to the devastated face of the wife, we truly grasp the words as not just the mere mutterings of an adulterer, but as the exact feelings the wife is going through, It’s over between her and her husband. The music is haunting and it is kept that way, all throughout knowingly. You never escape from the impending doom. There is no respite to the building tension, until it resolves and the resolution again becomes the downfall of someone else.
In conclusion, I would say that in this day and age of television, where series are made to make you laugh, cry, be excited and root for a character, Dark does all of the above but makes you actually think of the emotions you have been too afraid to tamper with. Helplessness and fate.

© Surya Sekhar Mondal