Sunday, July 20, 2008

Its cricket!

~NOTE~: This is one of my first write ups written way back in 2004. Hope you'll like it...

If there is any game which is a true reflection of life, it’s cricket.

Each one of us is born within a ‘stadium’ (house, surroundings etc.) which is unique in its own way. At first we watch our parents and then comes our turn. The pitch (life itself) given to us is some what related to the ‘stadium’ in which we are born. Whether the relation is directly or indirectly proportional depends upon the 3rd umpire (God!). Other than the 3rd here also there are two umpires on field. The first one stands facing us - Mr. Destiny. Second one stands at square leg - Mr. Time. Consider them neutral but only at your own risk!

The pitch given to each one of us is generally different (no matter what your skills are or what kind of person you are.). That’s the monopoly our ‘3rd umpire’ has.

There are pitches which are flat. On such pitches every ball (opportunity) comes on to the bat (in our life) quite easily. The batsman only has to touch the ball and it goes to the fence like lightening!

Then there are pitches where it’s very difficult to play in the beginning because of its slowness. But steadily and surely as the batsman, with dogged determination, gets used to the pitch (life) he starts scoring and more often than not goes on to play a good knock.

There are also pitches which initially look flat but later become cumbersome to bat on. Immense pressure builds up and ultimately the batsman perishes. These batsmen are like Mirages – they promise a lot initially but rarely deliver.

Lastly there are pitches where every ball right from start is sharp and dangerous. It’s a pitch where every out-swinging ball eventually in-swings and the stumps (hopes, aspirations) goes for a toss. But only this kind of pitch has the potential to produce memorable innings. Such a pitch improves the batsman’s skill, makes him more focused, concretes his determination, develops his patience and cultivates in him all the right ingredients to make a legend! This is the pitch that teaches us a simple fact: sometimes staying at the ‘crease’ and facing the heat is also important.

Life is a One Day International (ODI) where every ball (opportunity) counts. [May be life in a metro is a 20-20!]. We cannot afford to defend unnecessarily as we are never sure of the number of overs allotted to us. So it becomes all the more mandatory to make every ‘over’ (day/opportunity) count and KEEP SCORING!

By: NovoneeL ChakrabortY

Friday, July 18, 2008


“Alcohol has taught me one truth”, the drunkard said aloud.

A young man, standing on the edge of a cliff, about to end his life, and thus far absorbed in his own world, suddenly wanted to hear the drunkard complete the statement. But nothing happened for a minute. With impatience boiling inside him he shot the question directly to him instead, “What truth?”

“Happiness is opaque.” The drunkard replied promptly.

“Really?” The young man mocked.

“It never allows the light of our congenital talents to express themselves.”

“Then what does?”

Half a minute went by in silence.

“The prism of adversity allows us to express our true colours. Only after going through it does our V-I-B-G-Y-O-R, the one reflecting our core, is visible to the whole world.”

The young man – as the drunkard’s words made a nest in his conscience – found himself standing with his back at the cliff…already.

By: NovoneeL ChakrabortY

Monday, July 14, 2008

Protection is Bliss


"Protection is Bliss" is a short film made by me and my friend, Arindam Dey. Though the idea struck me an year back but we ended up making it this March only.

We used a Nikon CoolPix L6 camera popularly used to click still photographs. :)

We didn't pen a single word before making the film (contrary to what we usually do) and yet managed to finish the shooting, editing, mixing and publishing within five hours straight...

I hope you'll like both the film and the thought behind it...

- Novo.

Sunday, July 13, 2008

The Shape

The writer, as usual, was sitting at a corner on the last bench of the road side motel observing everyone from the cook to the customers. That was important for observation excited stories within him. But today was a rebel. He was there since morning and by evening he still was clueless about his next story.

Irritated, he panned his neck for the umpteenth time. And he saw a white ghost! A moment later he realized, to his relief, it was the same helper (now totally covered with flour) who had been giving shape to the flour dough since morning. He observed him closely. The man smiled faintly whenever he flattened the dough. Also, to the writer’s astonishment, each shape was an exact copy of its predecessor. Working without rest how can he be so perfect at it? The writer first asked himself and later to the man.

“I am the only bread earner for my wife and two kids.” He replied. “And when I joined this place last week my employer told me if I don’t falter at my job he would never wash his hands off me.”


“So I try giving shape to the flour dough assuming it to be my destiny. Till the shape of the dough is intact, my destiny is intact.”

The writer, a little taken aback by the allusion, asked, “And what about this constant smile on your face? Don’t you get bogged down by the pressure of producing a perfect shape each time?”

“That is always there – the pressure – but honestly how many of us get a chance to shape our own destiny?”

“True.” The writer replied and a second later asked himself, “Don’t we all do?”

By: NovoneeL ChakrabortY

Thursday, July 10, 2008

The Basket

Henry’s job was that of a helper at the fruit department of the city's most popular supermarket. But instead of doing his job he always stood, wearing an invisible yet heavy cloak of frustration, at a corner looking indifferently at the customers. Not that they cared for him. The customers were always busy selecting and putting the fruits, one by one, into their baskets according to their liking.

Today was no different. Only that instead of looking blank Henry was observing a kid who was fighting hard to push few more apples in his already filled-to-maximum basket. And a while later, as imminent, all his apples were on the floor, rolling to various corners. Couple of workers from the other side came forward to help but Henry stood his ground. His focus by then had shifted to an old lady on the adjacent section who was slowly putting the mangoes inside her big basket. And instantly, with an instinct of creation, he heard a stentorian voice inside him speak.

What about your basket? The one you have been carrying for so many years now… your big basket of failure. Come on Henry you were given the basket not to carry it around like a fool all your life but it was your chance to collect, using the common sense of hard work, more and more fruits of success compared to the ones who don’t get that basket ever. It’s high time you get this into your head…failures are a gift!

Henry, with a faint smile of realization, ran up to the kid and along with the others helped him place all his apples in a bigger basket.

“Next time” He told the kid, “Remember to take a bigger basket from the counter.”

Bigger the basket of failure, greater are your chances of securing more fruits of success, Henry now knew.

By: NovoneeL ChakrabortY

Sunday, July 6, 2008

A Thing Beyond Forever


What happens when life plays a trick on two innocent lovers? What happens when your first love – much against all possibilities – comes back to you in the most bizarre and astounding manifestation ever?

Dr. Radhika Sharma, for the world outside, is an aberrant and arrogant feminist. But inside, she resides in a far-away world like a vulnerable first sketch of an artist. One night an innocuous enquiry by a nine-year-old patient coaxes her to open someone’s personal diary. And, as she reads on, a bygone era comes to the forefront taking her through a cavalcade of exclusive events that life, love and friendship offer at the noon of adolescence. By the time she finishes reading the diary, it’s already morning. And by night time she finds herself face to face with a question that defies logical explanation.

Is falling in love a random act or a planned coincidence? Is attraction the missing link between souls? Will the light of true love outshine the dark shadow of destiny?

Even when Radhika gets the copasetic answers there are still two more chapters to go…


A Thing Beyond Forever :::

ISBN : 8188575674
Cover price: Rs. 100
Extent: 212 pages
Format: Paperback
Published by: Srishti Publishers & Distributors.

* Now can be purchased online @ :

Life's Own Punctuation

The boy, from his small window that helped frame the outside world, was watching the beggar lying still on the street, a stark contrast to his otherwise daily hue and cry. The boy, with a question thundering in his innocent mind, immediately ran to his father.

"Daddy, why is the beggar lying still today?"

"May be he is suffering from some disease." His father responded, flipping a page of the morning newspaper he was reading.

"Is life a disease daddy?"

The query made his father shift his focus from the newspaper to his son. "No. Who told you that?"

"I have heard the beggar say often that life is full of suffering."

His father thought for a while and then said, "Tell me have you been taught punctuations in school?"


"So what does a comma stand for?"

"A comma is used to bring order to a statement."

"Right. Likewise, suffering is life's own punctuation. It is the comma in the statement of life. When we encounter a comma in a statement we stop momentarily, absorb the sense and then move on. The real significance of suffering is also the same - wait, absorb the sense and move on." The father caressed the boy’s forehead and continued, "It’s the statements with proper punctuation that appeals the most."

The boy thinks for a while and then asks, "Then shouldn't the beggar be the most appealing person?"

The father laughs out. "Son, only the blessed ones have this punctuation at the right place. Though they don't realize it at first but once they look back at their statement of life it surprisingly reads better than the most…and in perfect order too."

By: NovoneeL ChakrabortY

What Are You Looking At?

"It always happens this way." The Sun told the Wind. "What does?" The Wind was as usual


"Thorns and roses - they always co-exist."

"But there outer self is in such irony to the inner self."

The Sun gave the Wind a blank look. Surmising the hint the Wind chose to clarify further.

"Yesterday when I was blowing I overheard the rose talking to itself..."


I don't know why the hell people smile when they see me. I look so pathetic. All my life

I simply exist being a sharp and pointed thing good for nothing except hurting

people. Or may be they feel better about themselves after seeing my silly and ugly


The Wind sighed and continued. "I overheard the thorn too..."


I don't know why people are afraid of me. Some even ask their children to maintain safe

distance from me whereas I think I am one of the most beautiful thing ever created. My

petals, my design, my colour, my softness, my aura, my romance...where else would they get

such an austere mix? And yet...still, I thank God for the way he made me and no matter what

others think or do to me I would rather prefer to remain happy forever as in the end there

are so few things in this world which are as beautiful as I am.

"So", this time the Sun sighed, "the rose is unhappy for it assumed itself – probably

looking at the thorn all its life – to be just a thorn and thus ignored the happiness that

it deserved all these years. While on the other hand the thorn assumed itself to be a rose

and thus enjoyed happiness ever since."

The Wind nodded.

"It always happens this way."

"What does?"

"Happiness can definitely follow us wherever we go and whatever we do ... only if we

know what we are and what actually we are looking at."

By: NovoneeL ChakrabortY

The Complaint

"The sea was much better," the traveller complained. "Whenever I got tired it at least had its currents to push me forward on my journey but you," he looked at the vast desert surrounding him, "you are of no help."

He went down on his knees, dead tired. When his breaths restored back to normalcy, a while later, he heard the desert's voice.

"I agree. I am of no help like the sea and thus I often depress people. But do you really think people will remember you for crossing the sea? Never! For the sea doesn't allow you to leave any mark. I, on the contrary, do. Thus, if you cross me, I swear, you will in turn immortalize yourself with the imprints you leave over me!"

The traveller got the essence and got up to walk on. "It's always about the imprints," his heart echoed.

By: NovoneeL ChakrabortY

The Seed

Once upon a time, there was a seed and because it was only a seed, nobody cared to notice it. Thus, gripped by a sense of inferiority, the seed gave no importance to his existence.

Then one day, a wind picked him up - randomly or otherwise he didn't know - and threw him mercilessly on an open field under the sweltering sun. He was confused. Why would anything do such a thing? But instead of any copasetic answers, he was provided with rain (in addition to sunlight); sometimes in drizzles and sometimes in torrents.

Meanwhile time flew and years later he saw a traveller sitting by his side. "Thank you God for this. I really needed some rest," he heard the traveller say.

"What are you talking about?" The seed promptly asked. He thought the man was making fun of him. Sure, he had witnessed many people sitting by his side - more so in recent years - but no one ever spoke to him like that.

"Who is this?" The man was startled.

"This is me. The seed."

"The seed?" The man looked at the giant tree. "Are you kidding me? You are no seed. You are a tree. A goliath of a tree!"


"Yes! Why else do you think people come here?"

"What do they come here for anyways?"

"To feel your shade! Don't tell me you didn't know you had grown over time."

A moment passed before the traveller’s words struck the chord of realization within him.

The seed, now a prolix tree, thought and smiled for the first time in his life. The years of relentless tortures by the sun and the rain finally made sense to him.

"Oh! That means I'm not a tiny-flimsy seed anymore! I wasn't destined to die unnoticed but was actually born to strip people of their lassitude. Wow! Now that's a life worth a thousand gems!"

By: NovoneeL ChakrabortY