M – Metaphor Master Class(Where the hidden meaning lurks in mirrors)

The metaphor doesn’t end with a comparison, 
it is rather a form of confession in disguise of craft. 
Because it enables us to declare that “I am broken” 
without ever referring to being broken. 

In my writing, I chase metaphors like fireflies, 
those little stars that bring emotions to life. 
My coffee cup turns into patience, 
my window turns into hope, 
and the silence turns into a language we have forgotten. 

With metaphors, we find a way to articulate our emotions, 
make them comprehensible to the rest of the world. 
They turn trivialities into poetry, 
like how sharing a pizza together turns into memories heated up again, 
how reading a book makes me a mirror of myself. 

रूपक वो आईना है जिसमें भावनाएँ चेहरा बदलकर लौटती हैं। 
A metaphor is a mirror where emotions return in different faces. 

To the subtle beauty of speaking without words, 
I toast to the art of metaphor!


This Post is part of BlogchatterA2Z Challenge 2026
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Love Letters To Book

Some books are not just confined to our shelves.
Instead, they are part of the letters unsent,
the conversations that keep coming back.

Sometimes, to read a book is to write to that someone
whom I am so desperately longing to meet again –
that someone who can make me laugh out loud
as if every single laugh mark was written on the page
that tells the story of how we ate pizza together
and laughed in between those laughs while talking.

To reread the book is like writing a love letter to my memories –
the one I have of myself when I first marked those lines
and took pause at that passage whispering “this is us.”

Books love us back sometimes –
silently, with words, patiently waiting for us to come back
months and years after we have forgotten about them.

किताबें भी मोहब्बत करती हैं —
हर पन्ना एक ख़त है, हर शब्द एक इज़हार।
Books love us too – every page is a letter, every word a confession.

To the ones that made an imprint in us,
to the ones that hold our handprints in their pages
with memories that will never be erased.


This Post is part of BlogchatterA2Z Challenge 2026
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Kolkata Literary Corners

Literature is woven into every inch of Kolkata from the great Kalam Literary Meet at Kala Mandir to the quiet Literature Corner of Behala, wherein stories aren’t just narrated but taught.

Book clubs blossom like flowers in the evenings — from the Shakespearean Society to Book Lover’s Club and the quaint meetings where chai and books meet each other.

With the arrival of January, every citizen of the city becomes part of a literary fiesta where Tagore’s presence resonates amongst all conversations, each one feeling like it was in the making.

Kolkata may not be a city of avid readers but a city which reads you back.

“Kolkata ke kone-kone mein kahaniyan bastee hain. Festivals, book clubs aur Behala ka Literary Corner.”

This Post is part of BlogchatterA2Z Challenge 2026
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J – Journaling as Pre‑Poetry(Where raw thoughts rehearse before they sing) 

Poetry isn’t born in its complete form.
The first spark arises in the midst of journaling:
fragmented thoughts, incomplete sentences,
chai stains along the edges,
moments of feeling frozen just before they disappear.

The act of journaling is a space for rehearsal.
In it, truth emerges unbidden,
words falter, blushing, learning to breathe.
Then comes the time when those same fragments — “rain against the glass,” “heart too heavy,” —
make their way back, transformed into metaphor,
prepared to take their place in the poem.

The art of journaling involves listening inwards,
capturing the beat before it finds its rhythm.
It is chaotic, personal, imperfect; but then,
that is what makes it so charming.
Poetry blooms here,
from the soil of ordinary revelations.

कभी‑कभी डायरी ही कविता की पहली धड़कन होती है।
Sometimes, the diary is the poem’s first heartbeat.

This Post is part of BlogchatterA2Z Challenge 2026
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Identity In Ink

Each poem I compose leaves its own fingerprint.
Not one that can be seen, but felt.
At times, my identity lies in the cadence of a line,
at other times, it lies in the space between two lines.
Every revision mirrors back to me,
who I am when I penned it,
who I am now.

Writing is more than a mere exercise in ink;
it exposes truths I didn’t know I was harboring.
It transforms memories into metaphors,
uncertainty into voice.

Maybe that is what writing is all about.

This Post is part of BlogchatterA2Z Challenge 2026
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How I Edit Poetry(H — The Honest Drafts) 

Poetry editing is not about perfection. It is about listening.
I read out loud until the poem breathes correctly.
I remove lines that sound clever but are untrue.
I retain those that shake me.

I sometimes change words not for the sake of rhyme but for truth.
I sometimes preserve broken lines because a gap speaks louder than grammar.

The process of editing is slow and meditative:
pen down, pause, re-read, whisper.
Is this line still mine?

Editing is not subtracting emotion; it is refining it.
It is the craft of going back into yourself
and having your heart speak to you once more,
only softer now.

This Post is part of BlogchatterA2Z Challenge 2026
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Gratitude In Verse

For the morning’s first light, 
soft upon the curtains, 
for the steam rising from my cup, 
warming my hands to stillness — 
I give thanks. 

For laughter that finds me again, 
for silence that teaches me peace, 
for the words that return 
when I stop chasing them — 
I give thanks. 

Gratitude isn’t grand; 
it’s quiet, like ink drying on paper. 
It lives in the pauses, 
in the small, steady moments 
that remind me I’m still here

This Post is part of BlogchatterA2Z Challenge 2026
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First Lines That HookOpening Lines That Stopped Me in My Tracks.


Some first lines do more than just grab your attention.
They stop you mid-way through scrolling, or taking a sip of your drink, or simply thinking!

I’ve been hooked on first lines that capture an entire universe in a single sentence.
A first line is not only an introduction. It’s also an invitation.
It’s a soft voice saying “Come closer.”

At times it’s the rhythm of the line that speaks to me. At other times it’s the frankness of the line I’m hearing.
That one line felt like it had been created with me in mind.

I recall one first line I stumbled across, and I didn’t just think it’s a book. I thought it was life.
That is what remarkable first lines accomplish.
They begin a dialogue between the author and reader through the writer’s words. And, as such,
they are the starting point for a dialogue between the reader and writer.

And I think that is why I have a collection of first lines like other people have souvenirs.
Each one is proof that the beginning is important,
because they are the ones with the courage to say, “This is Me”.


This Post is part of BlogchatterA2Z Challenge 2026
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Event Echoes: What I Learned at a Literary Festival


Literary festivals are not mere assemblies of words but worlds come together.
Each dialogue felt like stepping into someone else’s imagination.

Here, I understood that stories did not necessarily come to an end on the closing page but extended further in the quiet of the reader’s heart.
Here, I saw that every writer possesses courage along with doubt.
But both were needed for writing the truth.

Amidst panel discussions and tea/coffee breaks, my only mission seemed to be collecting echoes – 
the laughter of a poet, the revelation of a translator, the silent consent of a reader.
All these moments made me understand that literature was more about the connection of words than perfection,
as it connected us through words and hearts regardless of languages and times.

And maybe this was the true message:
It was never about learning how to write but remembering why.

This Post is part of BlogchatterA2Z Challenge 2026
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Drafts & Doubts: The Poem I Never Finished

I began with a word—
soft, trembling, unsure.
It tried to become a feeling,
but feelings are stubborn things.

Halfway through, the rhythm broke,
like a thought that lost its breath.
I left it there—
between ink and hesitation.

Maybe some poems aren’t meant to end.
They just linger,
like the echo of what we almost said

This Post is part of BlogchatterA2Z Challenge 2026
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