This is my place to reminisce on memories of my life gone so far – picking up some thread, some element, some event, some experience from the days in my past – randomly – as they come – because we all are men of memories.

Here this is about this thing – a pen from my past – that came to my mind while discussing the proposition of ‘letting things go’ in life.

Like many, I, too, had this thing in my school days – collecting pens – and trying to get as soon as possible that new trendy introduction in the stationary shop that would be showcased – like a jewel of the category.

Obviously, there were cost constraints and I had to keep my pocket money into consideration while going for such ‘I must have’ decisions.

This pen – Add Diamond Roller – was recently launched in the market – when I saw it in the shop – in 1990s – when I was in 8th standard. I liked it at the first sight so much that I decided I would have it. But then there was this big problem. The pen was priced at Rs. 99, a considerably big sum for a schoolboy in those days, especially when it was the last week of the month. In fact, I had no money to purchase the pen if I had to manage the remaining days of the month with my pocket money.

But then the impulsive desire to have the pen was so intense that I found myself unable to wait for even a day more.

So, what could be done? So, what did I do?

Simple, and in fact, as I had a reputation of a good son, after a bit of convincing, I got some advance on my next month’s pocket money along with the money required to buy the pen.

The next day, the first thing I did was I rushed to the shop before going to the school to have the pen so that I could show it to others, could brag about it, as well as could feel good about it that I had such an expensive and latest addition to premium pens category in the market.

And for the whole day, I bathed in its glory.

And then it happened – the development that made it a memory worth reminiscing – because of its shock value.

I used to commute from auto-rickshaw in those days. I was very cautious about the pen and had it firmly slipped in my trouser’s pocket while boarding the one to my house. As usual, I was with my ‘feel good’ feelings, instilled with the pen’s possession now.

As soon I reached home, I rushed to show it to everyone there. I slipped my hand in my trouser’s pocket to have it and then I felt it – the shock of lifetime in those days. I had lost the pen somewhere – the pen that I had so cravingly purchased in the morning. It had slipped out of my pocket somewhere, probably in the auto-rickshaw.

At that instant I felt the whole world had come upside down. I felt both dumb and numb. While there were words of empathy, sympathy and even mockery on my loss, I suddenly felt detached from the world around me, and rushed to get some isolation.

Well, I didn’t know anything about ‘letting go’ or so in those days and how could we in that age, when we spend the whole life in convincing ourselves about the idea but it took me many days to get past the shock that I had so suddenly felt from the high pedestal of having the most expensive and elegant pen in the whole classroom. What would my friends and classmates say in the class next day? Certainly, you don’t like words of consolation in those moments.

The memory of this incident comes to revisit me again and again – in different hues – after different developments – but with similar core – even after so many years – because some of us build our life on memories – and I am certainly one of those fools. Yes, it makes me feel better that I have learnt to enjoy them or reconcile with them. That pen could not become part of my collection but its memory stayed – with different slants – in different circumstances.

When I thought to share this today, I was not sure if the pen was still available in the market but a Google search took me to its website that told me it was very much there.

Add Gel

©/IPR: Santosh Chaubey –


The night has come after a long time
To sit again, by the side of my head

Looks like the talk will be mutual
Something, the years have not seen

There is much to say and hear
Wish the hour now lasts longer

Such a night has come after ages
That didn’t betray its commitment

Like the other nights, even today,
Yes, there is no pillow of sleep

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It was coloured fresh,

Like the rainbow,

It was so earthly,

With the fragrance,

Meeting was mutual,

Like it always had been,

Ends of the horizon,

Talking to each other,

And to the places,

They met on the trip,

Spread across the life,

Coloured by nature,

It was so connecting,

Words had their way,

Finding the meaning,

Following the silence,

Making it brighter,

The rainbow this evening,

Had the colours of hope,

With your scent in the air,

Reuniting with memories,

When we talked,

Of colours, of life, of us..

©/IPR: Santosh Chaubey –


Sometime, it keeps you waiting, but,
Sometime, it fakes everything, but,
Sometime, it lets you down, but,
Sometime, it’s about feeling so, but,

You still want to see the point
You still want to take the chance
You still feel the need to go back
You still feel the touch of days

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Come on! Let’s do what this mind conveys, my soul says
Memories, again, have come back from a trip to that house
An address that was, once, life and call of every passing day

Come on! Let the mind’s call be heard, my soul says
Steps are already moving to the path, taking me along
The journey, too, is similar, like I would feel one with

Come on! Let’s relive those memories again, my soul says
Let’s sit with no worries of us, under the cover of those days
Let’s talk what we used to do, let’s create the moments again

Come on! Let’s go to the place these memories have come from
Even if I have come this far, belongingness to that home remains
I had begun from there, in those days; I shall remain of the place

Come on! Let’s listen to this mind that is running to the home
Company of unruffled thoughts is there, waiting, arms spread
Come on! Let’s do some sensible things again, my soul says

©/IPR: Santosh Chaubey –


If possible,

Don’t let there be,

The moment of such decisions,

Imposed on you, selfishly,

Inflicting and demanding,

With no care for you,

Having no thoughts of you,

See where your peace is,

Find the harmony of your soul,

O’ life, know where your spirit is,

Don’t listen to such decisions,

Yes, you cared for,

But such decisions,

Were never for your obeisance,

What if,

Your thoughts still go back,

What if,

Your thinking still comes to a silence,

If possible,

Don’t pain yourself anymore,

Don’t hurt your peace anymore..

©/IPR: Santosh Chaubey –


Sky, open, infinite and detached,

And restricted by its own attachments,

Pulls towards itself naturally,

With its contradictions,

Sometime, with scatter of colours,

Dispersed to the horizon I see,

Sometime, with paused dark clouds,

Fleeing or overstaying their course,

The melody of falling drops passes by,
Giving a piece of music to the soul,

Reminds me of some forgotten pain,

In the moments,
When thinking starts talking to itself,

About the days gone by,

And the life now,

Sky’s openness and stillness,

Seems is like this life only,

Beyond the limits,

But tied to its own attachments..

©/IPR: Santosh Chaubey –


‘How reckless life is?’
‘How reckless a life can be?’ 

— The games the existence plays with the identities..

— Silly pursuits of life when the spirit of living was staring at death..

— And life recklessly made you love the fatalist in you..

— And you recklessly followed the fictions of life..

‘The games that were to be played differently.’
‘The games that were not to be played.’

— How reckless a life becomes..

— Mutilating its own soul while playing with others..

©/IPR: Santosh Chaubey –


The necessitated wisdom,
Was still inchoate
The ‘isms’,
Were acting inanimate, insensate
The moment,
Had failed to be the moment
It was like,
Sinking deep in the bereavement
Suddenly, life started feeling,
Like a negated concept
Something of an event,
That had compromised even death
The concepts,
Got running on impulses arraigned
It did not tell if it was existential
The absence of death was killing.
The absence of life was haunting.
And the person responsible for it,
Was not the reason for it
Inchoate, sinking,
Looking for the thread,
To swim across the ‘isms’

©/IPR: Santosh Chaubey –


The night was getting hooked to the blues of its Templar.
The attachment had a purple haze.
Like everyone decided to be left in a confused state.
Like the lines were drawn,
Only to be made lifeless, annihilated for their depth.
As if, the shallowness was deep enough,
To squeeze them all in.
He knew nights did act like that.
He had seen,
The fog mixing with the haze to serve the cocktail.
He believed in the profundity of the Grey.
But the night demanded,
The simplicity of Black and White to get clear of the haze.

©/IPR: Santosh Chaubey –