It's getting dark outside
The winter cold almost upon us,
I know you are thinking about me as I am about you.
We are cut from the same stone,
pebbles in a stream of consciousness,
eroded, uprooted and heaved
into different corners of the world.

Morning surrenders itself
into a haze of melancholy
hanging grim from a pale moon.
And when it's eight o'clock
I'll catch a faint whiff of your favorite perfume
as if you had reached the bottom of the stairs.
But that's all there is,
the door won't open and you won't come in.

I'll come back
before you start to forget my face,
before the glory of the sun fades on your cheek,
before the tern returns to it's nest,
before the thunder reaches it's peak.


Overlap: A Collection Of Poems

"Overlap is the first book by Indian writer Mayukh Chatterji, a collection of 25 poems that speak about parts of our realities that do exist and those which we wished existed, stories and of course, romance."

Yes!!!! That's what it says on the Amazon website (Buy Overlap@Amazon) !!!
From all the years of blogging that started way back in 2008, I compiled 25 of my poems from my blog and wrote a new one called Overlap, designed the book cover and put it all together and published it through Amazon's services. The book is dedicated to my family and I am thankful to my friends who helped me with their inputs on the book content and the design.

With this, I am now a published poet. This blog post does seem a little self-obsessed but I did manage to put it all together and get it done. The main influence for this sudden drive has been someone I met recently who has become an essential part of my life somehow.

The book is available as digital content across all Amazon Kindle devices and the Kindle app for mobile phones across the world. However, it is available as a paperback in select marketplaces of Amazon, namely www.amazon.com , https://www.amazon.de/ , https://www.amazon.fr , https://www.amazon.es , https://www.amazon.jp , https://www.amazon.co.uk , https://www.amazon.it

But the paperback book can be delivered from  https://www.amazon.de/market place to most countries around the world. I hope to reach out to readers and build an audience for myself through my writing and the book is somewhat of a success to encourage my own self to keep writing.

Read and review at (Buy Overlap@Amazon)....



Without you

Everyday isn't everyday without you.
There could be blackouts and storms
or my house could burn down.
But it wouldn't really be much different without you somehow.

I know I'll fade away.
But I wish you wouldn't let me.


She said no.
She could see what she had done.
But she said no.
It broke her heart.
She looked at the ground and stared at the pieces of his heart lying on the tiny square of floor space between them.

Unmoving, he looked at her fingers resting on the lines of fate on his palm.
She shifted a little and fate changed itself.

Inside that bubble created by two letters,
the silence was deafening.
He felt a weight descend on his shoulders.
She felt light as a balloon.
The surreal had worn off,
overtaken by reality and age.
The final picture could not be the same as the one they had envisioned when they started painting three years ago.
She would dissolve with the paint.
He wouldn't notice she was gone.

He put the ring  into his pocket and smiled.
After all, she could say no if she wanted to.



I am sitting at the International Arrivals section of Dulles airport right now and watching people.
Reunions are always special.Different communities of people arriving and being received by their loved ones is something to watch. However different they are, I see no differences in the way they are greeting and hugging each other. Their language may be different but the body language is the exact same- the smiles, the grins, the way their eyes are lighting up, the hugs, the kisses, the running into each other's arms - there is no difference between people. The Arrival Gate is one of the best ways that you can understand we are all the same, the differences we see or read about and hear about are elements fostered in our own minds giving rise to misconceptions, assumptions, prejudices.

Each child is ditching their bag(s), shrieking and running into their father's, mother's, grandparents', uncles', aunts' arms. They are the best part to watch. Such unadulterated pure joy. It's an amazing experience to watch love among people - you always know there is still so much good in the nooks and corners of life that usually get overshadowed by daily routines, politics and hate.

Imagine the possibilities if we all stopped a little in our lives to move together as one community instead of focusing on differences between our own selves.Unfortunately, most of it is in our nurture and the way we are brought up. A lot of prejudices and differences get built into the brain and our habits which almost becomes innate and is difficult to overcome. But all we need to do is consciously try. A little effort could always go a long way.



There's something about loneliness that is extremely appealing,almost sensuous, in the way that it  meticulously seduces and lures most people into its bear trap. The offer it makes is an escape route from the ever changing chaos we live in - peace, quiet, solitude. This very first offering is its last one and enough to start the avalanche to rock bottom. You foster in this new found solidarity and convince yourself how amazing this feeling is. Somewhere your perception of time gets changed and suddenly you find yourself in the middle of a month or two of peace and quiet.

During this time you have cut off from the world to enjoy your new found existence.
As you walk through this tunnel of yours, you glance back one day.
That's the point when you realize the escape route makes you feel different now - alone.

The tunnel has nobody else, it's eerily quiet and the lights behind you have switched off as you trudged ahead. You pause and debate moving ahead now. In this moment of indecision, there is an involuntary urge to stay bathed in lights. After what seems ages, you decide to take a chance and make your way back. You turn around towards the darkness and glance back at the lighted part of the tunnel once. You take a deep breath and start back. This time the lights around you don't turn on as you walk. However, you can see till some distance ahead of you from the lights behind. Then you round a bend and all the light gets sucked up by the dark walls - now all you can do is fumble around in the inkiness to make your way back to the entrance. Needless to say, to go back the same distance takes more time and effort than it took for you to cover it in your initial spike of exuberance and euphoria.



Just before stepping within approximately a kilometer of the train station I could suddenly smell the whole trip.It was a scent that bordered on familiar at the very edge of my consciousness, awakened at that last moment spurring up my heartbeat, this strange unapologetic mix of fast food, diesel fumes, stale sweat, unclean bathrooms and a counter-attacking feeble lavender air freshener. With that sudden new realization courtesy my olfactory senses, the dripping rivulets of sweat cooled off as the mind finally accepted the entirety of the excitement that lay ahead of me the next few days.

The body is a wonderful machine. Until then, my mind, exposed to several months of homework and examinations had not yet let go of the daily routine, sure that I would return to bed that night and awaken at seven in the morning next day to put on my iron uniform and lead shoes to start another school day with heavy-lidded eyes, all the while wondering how the teacher was so wide awake and brisk in his manners this early - "Maybe that's what grown ups just do-something changes in you while growing up and you are just wide awake in the morning", that's what I told myself as everyone took turns at announcing their presence in the classroom.

At that moment, however, the acceptance opened up a new world. The struggle through the crowds and the traffic towards the station seemed to be a minuscule point in a universe that consisted of oceans, waves, seashells(that would be collected in a quantity so high it could be a Guinness record for a child), mountains, lush green fields, sand bars, sunshine, wind, siestas, villages, towns, factories, railroad crossings, bicycles, dark skinned people, fair-skinned people, old people, middle aged people, crying children, spider children, silent children, social children,awkward teenagers, honeymoon couples, shops, colors, clothes, toys, walks, laughs, swimming trunks, sweaters, hoodies, shawls, towels, car seats, shampoo sachets, board games, card decks with frayed aces and bent Queens, peanuts, boiled eggs, rock salt, 'bhelpuri', 'jhalmuri', 'frooti', tea, coffee, endless sugar-cones filled with softy ice cream, food trays, water packets, newspapers, spilled gravy, simmering hot food, blankets, air-pillows, mineral water bottles, barred windows, open windows, languages, torn comics, old books, new books, doodles, crayons and entire households packed into three suitcases fastened securely to the underbellies of the blue seats with a snakelike chain held in place by a lock whose (Alice In Wonderland like) tiny key was the most safeguarded item; all of it being rocked together in a drowsy steady staccato.

I was about to step into an entire plethora of references from which school essays would arise and stories during language exams at school would be spun. I smiled and climbed up to build my own cozy corner on the topmost bunk as the engine hissed and the people faded away.


It's getting dark outside The winter cold almost upon us, I know you are thinking about me as I am about you. We are cut from the sa...