Bypassers

Having is not so easy. On how I have hundred kilometres north point from the city, can basically be dropped out as an illusion. Mere merriment of soul, amidst the hazardous stilted life of city. Me and Joydip shared drinks for the first time in life, we were barely fourteen. Being with for the other’s self. A rustic guy accompanied us, his obnoxious celebration, just chanting “enjoy”. He was a maverick man, namely Bodhna. A would be muscle man from the local. First pill, at the same class, collaborator was another would be henchman, Sujit. Every evening there was alarm, if got caught by the parenting soul. Sultry summer evening spent with adult movies. The film buff in me was awestricken by the mere lucidity of love making! Were the things so easy-going, as they interpreted? I loved the priestly tradition before. They were the biggest fucking intellectuals, at least in the medieval emperor’s homeness. They stood by the military, who were assing the peasants, and at the same time, they stood for the peasants, who were struck in baby-making. What good lawness. Only a philosopher can match. Thus was my illusion about philosophical sciences. I was ghost ridden, with and without it. Now that I stroked a few lines, I matched up with the spirited wholesomeness of Joydip’s maths and physics skills, or Moinak’s medicine, and more importantly, with her philosophy talents. The encumbering of physics-philosophy and literary artation envisions a galaxial techne, of million light years. It all started in hundred kilometres north point from the city. Those sultry evening with only meself as lone playmate. Life looked awesome, ridding my galleon of fate, traversing the light years! How many stars could be reached, to be in time with the navigators sailing and turning the sea upside whole? I was the sole bypasser in the family joyride. Love let me apart. Slurry woman tried to still the armour! Yahweh saved me and my galleon. Now she stands close. Being with for the self now erupts with alone circling the aptitude of suburban galaxial pathways. I walk, but now not alone. I can see the feat. Elliptical curves make my membrane down and out! I love the streets, again. North point appears so often in the city, with it a whole gamut of bypassers, looking for the fissures of Ariatic whole! My international, situated everywhere.

Jeet Bhattacharya
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