Thoughts of a Bibliophile

To all the books I’ve ever read,

Thank you for transforming me and adding value to my life in ways I could have never imagined otherwise. You have given me opportunities to flourish my thought-process. You have made me believe that my pain and my pleasures are not mine alone. The ones who fill the void of your canvas with their words, in different parts of the world, go through the same repertoire of emotions as I do. We maybe two worlds apart but you connected us.

You made me come across the different realities of life. Some realities hurt me deep within. Some made me question my own existence. Some changed my worldviews. Some realities gripped my lungs so tight, that for days I felt possessed by those words. And some realities helped me breathe, become one with myself, and feel proud of my very existence. Thank you for containing me in you.

You don’t know the unceasing importance you have in my life. If it wasn’t for you that I had taken refuge in, during times of crisis—I would have withered, decayed, or even gone. You have helped me hold myself together many times. You have given me hope when I was crawling through the barren ruthlessness of life. Most importantly you helped me think. Think for myself when my thoughts had no mercy on me.

In this utterly confusing world, you give me clarity. In this innately meaningless life, I find meaning in you. In this digitally warped existence, you help me disconnect from all else and connect to myself.

For the countless beautiful experiences you’ve given me; and for the days I look forward to spending in your magnanimity—I thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Your unrelenting reader



It’s like we are hanging unto
a thin thread that ties us to
this ongoing opportune life.

We all are breathing now
but one of us lets loose and
then, he is not there, gone.

Episode 1: Letters to Myself

Hi, Aprajita!

How’re you doing? I know this letter will not find you in good health. Yet still, you’ll read it receptively.

Please don’t mistake this one for a gratitude letter. I’m sure I’ve been thanking you enough now and then. This is just my effort to express myself to you. Don’t raise your eyebrow yet. I know you reflect. You often talk to me in your head. But I know how at times, I’ve been unresponsive to your questions and meanderings. Ever wondered why? I did not know what to say. Your questions sometimes seemed to have answers hidden in them. Only you did not see.

You know how people look at you like a sorted, mature person. But they only see that. They don’t see me. They don’t see the intrinsic intricacy of you. Of I. The baggage that you carry. The thoughts the make you worry. The struggles that make you walk gingerly. The tears that you want to cry but you’re only lucky to shed them sometimes. They don’t see how you stare at me in the mirror. As if looking at the whole universe. Also as if looking at nothing at all. They don’t see how scared you are before writing every word because you’re giving it away. You’re giving your soul away for people to examine and form perspectives on.

But despite it all, I see you smiling with gratification. Thinking reasonably. Expressing heartily. Learning continuously. Listening keenly. Breathing ecstatically. Well, none of these are extraordinary. No, they aren’t at all. You’re an ordinary person. And you should remind yourself: “this is how I want to be living everyday.

Well, what’s more to say? I guess now I’ll just let you be.

I just want you to remember to let it go at times. Yet, hang in there. There’s still a lot to see.

Go back to doing what you were.


Awareness | Intention | Purpose

You are under surveillance
you so are being watched.
They are waiting for you
to slip up even if that be
for a very brief moment. 
So they could point at you
so they could question you
so they could have a laugh 
at your entire belief system, 
tell you that you’re hypocrite. 
So, should you be worried?
Well, not quite as much as
you think you need to be. 
Ask yourself three questions
every passing day, instead.
What am I doing? (Awareness) 
How am I doing it? (Intention)
Why am I doing it? (Purpose)

If I died tomorrow

If I died tomorrow, what would I be most remembered for?
Believe me, that is a question that I try to answer every day
thinking about the delicate fragility that tomorrow entails,
what if’s, could be’s—enshroud my thoughts occasionally,
not reminiscing the past but picturing my very last breath.

I may be remembered for the words that I mostly conveyed,
I may be remembered for my unrelenting state of calmness,
I may be remembered for efforts I made to lead myself well,
I may be remembered for the instances and people I escaped,
or, I may be forgotten from the next day of my non-existence.

It does not scare me as such. Yes! the thought of death I mean.
Nor am I scared of the uncertainty of the moments passing by,
what scares me is whether or not I’m living true to myself,
what scares me is whether or not I’m living true to my death,
the simple and single answer to which in most part is ‘yes’.


Lie comes in different colors, shapes, and sizes,
more often than not, the sweetest of the sweet
which we can only crave for and regret later on
because the sweetness has a kind of tipsy toxin.

Truth dresses blandly, sometimes it’s even naked
subjecting us to the intimidating notions of life
which we know we need to accept with courage
yet we anxiously search for that toxic escape.


Escape if you want to.
Escape if things seem wrong.
Escape into the reign unreached.
Escape from the dilemmas bestowed.
Escape from the guilt of living many lives.
Escape from all that you want to escape from.
Escape for as long and as far as you want to escape.
Escape until you find the lost pieces of your lost existence.
Escape, blocking out what is said, unaffected by the mockery.
Escape to meander, assess and rethink the values that you live by.
Escape, but try not to kill others’ hopes through your singular stampede.


Maybe all of us seek someone
to contain that we’re unique beings
in this universe full of magic.

Maybe all of us need someone
to make us love ourselves, despite
knowing that it is inevitable.

Maybe all of us await someone
to clean our wounds and heal them
even if we ourselves could have.

Maybe all of us want someone
to teach us the meaning of this life
while we could have been at it.

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