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Train to Mumbai

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Ekamjit Ghuman

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“Naskar and Abi (The Sonnet) Ask me about the strangest secrets of human behavior, I would ramble on and on without stopping for hours. But try to make small talk with me as a cold stranger, And I would struggle to put a single thought in words. Only force that breaks my autistic barrier is attachment, I only remember of one person with whom I could be me. When she left I let the God complex blow at full throttle, So that Naskar survives even if nobody gets to see Abi. Perhaps that is why without even knowing I invented Abi, So that the real Abi finds expression, at least in fiction. Thus, if and when the strain gets too heavy I could escape, The vastness of Naskar, without escaping the conviction. There is no rock of ages without some everyday weakness. It is the weakness that keeps us grounded as sapiens.”

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Book:Esperanza Impossible: 100 Sonnets of Ethics, Engineering & Existence
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“You know why I write books? Because it is the one thing about the outcome of which I don't give a damn. I don't care if they gather dust, I don't care if they don't sell. In fact, among my hundred plus works, there are a few that have sold barely ten copies. Yet, am I bothered! Nope! I don't write to sell books, I write because my mind teeters on the edge of psychosis if I spend a single day without writing. Sure, the ultimate mission behind my legacy is the construction of a humane world, but if you get down to the actual morale of the moment - the only recompense I get out of it all, is the felicity of putting my fervor on paper - thus immortalizing them for eons to come. That's how this one life could produce such an impossibly inexhaustible amount of literature in the first place - because I dream my ideas, breathe my ideas, and live my ideas. Better a lesser read genius, than a misread genius. Or to put it plainer still - I am not a writer, I am an anomaly - for better or for worse, I am an anomaly.”

WritingGeniusExistentialismWriting ProcessWriting PhilosophyAutistic AuthorHumanistic PsychologyGenius ThinkersGenius PoetAutistic Scientist
Book:World War Human: 100 New Earthling Sonnets
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“She was that lass I loved to admire when she plucked roses in her Charlotte novels she beamed like sunflower, when she laughed at romantic lines, I loved her little sequin nuggets those fine details about her, those indefinite little prose. Her smell made me wonder, Do books have frankincense? I loved to stare at her favourite book by”

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Book:Hannah Cherub: Hannah cherub
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“Hannah do you even know the meaning of evening silences? Watching the ebb, the halo hanging upon your eyes? Hannah do we even know the love we twined in those pines? We walked with veils like of virgin shyness? Those constellation, those stars that gleam and thrill, those seamless touches, those eyes, shyness and sheen, those Hannah, those nights painted by Vincent Van Gogh, those nights I took you in my arms and held you like an eg”

Love QuotesLove QuotationsLove SayingsVincent Van GoghAfrican PoetryHannah CherubZimbabwean WriterSoulful PoemTapiwanaishe
Book:Hannah Cherub: Hannah cherub
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“আমরা এ-পৃথিবীর বহুদিনকার কথা কাজ ব্যথা ভুল সংকল্প চিন্তার মর্যাদায় গড় কাহিনীর মূল্য নিংড়ে এখন সঞ্চয় করেছি বাক্য শব্দ ভাষা অনুপম বাচনের রীতি । মানুষের ভাষা তবু অনুভূতিদেশ থেকে আলো না পেলে নিছক ক্রিয়া; বিশেষণ; এলোমেলো নিরাশ্রয় শব্দের কঙ্কাল; জ্ঞানের নিকট থেকে ঢের দূরে থাকে । অনেক বিদ্যার দান উত্তরাধিকারে পেয়ে তবু আমাদের এই শতকের বিজ্ঞান তো সংকলিত জিনিসের ভিড় শুধু— বেড়ে যায় শুধু; তবুও কোথাও তার প্রাণ নেই ব’লে অর্থময় জ্ঞান নেই আজ এই পৃথিবীতে; জ্ঞানের বিহনে প্রেম নেই । এ-যুগে কোথাও কোনো আলো— কোনো কান্তিময় আলো চোখের সুমুখে নেই যাত্রিকের; নেই তো নিঃসৃত অন্ধকার রাত্রির মায়ের মতো: মানুষের বিহ্বল দেহের সব দোষ প্রক্ষালিত ক’রে দেয়— মানুষের বিহ্বল আত্মাকে লোকসমাগমহীন একান্তের অন্ধকারে অন্তঃশীল ক’রে তাকে আর সুধায় না— অতীতের সুধানো প্রশ্নের উত্তর চায় না আর— শুধু শব্দহীন মৃত্যুহীন অন্ধকারে ঘিরে রাখে, সব অপরাধ ক্লান্তি ভয় ভুল পাপ বীতকাম হয় যাতে— এ-জীবন ধীরে-ধীরে বীতশোক হয়”

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Book:সাতটি তারার তিমির
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