The Plain

There is a dusty plain in the middle of nowhere

Where the sun does not shine

No rain falls there

And there aren't saints nor sinners

Snow does not mingle with the dust

Neither does any iron rust

Everyone ends up there anyway

Ashes to ashes and dust to dust

The Bilge Master

I am An Iceberg That Never Melts

I am an iceberg

That ne'er melts

So

Bury all your scandals

In my skin

All your secrets

Will be safe

Free of charge

So

Unburden yourself

Every little lie

Your first kiss

The lover that you miss

There is no genre

I am an iceberg that never melts

And your secrets are still buried beneath

Layers of cold, cold ice

Like the blood in your veins

The Bilge Master

Webs of Text

We live our lives

In webs of text

Checking out who got married next

Intricate are these webs

That we surround ourselves with

We can be anyone within them

So much subterfuge

Makes us forget who we really are

As Instagram buzzes with the next cool photo

We forget to breathe fresh air

We strike keys instead of meeting in real life

Coz Facebook is so entertaining

Gossip on  tap

When did this happen and how?

When did we get swallowed up by webs of text

That we chose to wallow in

While outside the world spins madly on?

What makes us so afraid to leave the house

Without our smartphones?

The web of text engulfs us

While out there our life flashes by

And we sleep in a cocoon of lies

While time flies

The Bilge Master

Don't Let the Bastard Win

In the year 2015, my life changed. It practically came to a stop. I could not attend college properly, my friends and I were having arguments and my family always faced bitterness from me.

My father took me to a psychiatrist. I was diagnosed with acute bipolar disorder or if you prefer it manic depression. This began a journey into a dark place, with many ups and downs- more ups than downs and it has been two years since that diagnosis was made.

In these two years, I have been depressed like the Dickens . I forgot what happiness was and every day  I would wake up with a prayer that somehow I would survive till the day ended. I was put on a battery of medication and they served to turn me into a drugged zombie with barely enough strength left mentally to exist.

But, I started to explore this dark place I was in, armed with just a matchstick. I looked for light. Many matchsticks burnt out. Thousands of them turned to ash and splintered wood, but I still laboured on.

I was assaulted by demons from my past memories. They tugged away at me and forced me to relive my worst times. In sleep there was no respite as the demons visited me in form of nightmares.

Quite a pretty picture I've painted and I wonder what you're thinking right now dear reader. Does this story have an end? Did he get out alive or is this someone else writing for him? The answers to those two questions are yes, the story has an end and no this is still me writing this.

I was taken to different psychiatrists and even carted off to Bangalore to figure out a way out of this predicament. Nothing seemed to be working. I was stagnant, with the depression still very much there, sitting on my shoulder like a ghost. It was strong and it was angry that I was fighting it. I was indeed locked in battle with it, for a TV show I'd seen called M*A*S*H gave me a mantra to fight back.

Don't let the bastard win.

Those five words meant a lot to me, as much as other advice. They became a weapon- a pickaxe with which I could hack away at the walls of the darkness shrouding my mind. I should mention here that my friends and family were forever at my side and their unwavering support- just the idea of their faces in my mind gave me strength to survive. They didn't do much- maybe answer a call, reply to a WhatsApp immediately or just be a name I could recall at will; but all of those tiny droplets of kindness integrated into a large ocean which became a weapon against the darkness.

And there was of course- Don't let the bastard win.

A year  and a half passed by. I remained at home, with no college apart from just attending the semester exams which I somehow passed. My depression continued to sit there but its degree had lessened. I was laughing again and on some days I did exist.

A friend of mine was struggling too. She and I used to talk on a regular basis and still do about our illnesses. Someone else who was going through the same pain as I was. This bond that formed helped me. I had to be there for her and that gave me a drive which helped in the fight. By this time, my pickaxe had drilled a hole in the darkness through which I could see a chink of light. Things were on the mend.

Then sometime in 2016's second half, something happened which brought the depression on again. I do not remember what it was however and I was asked to go to a nursing home and be kept under observation by my shrink.

We changed doctors again.

This time I was third time lucky. I was given the proper medicines, counselled properly and I was listening to what the others said instead of being lost in myself. The song Fade to Black describes the first half of 2016 correctly while the second half was more like Summer of '69. I was thinking about my past and wondering where I went wrong instead of enjoying the summer like Bryan Adams wanted me to (again Fade to Black).

I pause here and rack my memory. 2016 had ended and 2017 had begun. I'd passed my latest semester with decent grades. This acted as a booster. I am very close to the present day now. I passed my final semester exam and cleared all backlogs.

And one day, after almost two and a half years- I told my depression to take a hike.

I had to go back to people I hadn't spoken to for years and have conversations with them and apologize in some cases so that I could lay the flayed memories to rest.

My present status is this- I am a graduate with one exam pending, looking for a job and I am at peace- both mentally and physically. It has been a long struggle and a very strong battle like 

Gandalf's fight with Durin's Bane in The Fellowship of the Ring.

I would like to take this opportunity to thank each and every individual who stood by my side. I needed that faith you had in me and I am grateful to know people like you and have people like you in my life.

I may not be a lot of things, but I am Ashesh Mitra. Here I am and this is me. I am back after a long hiatus and I missed being me.

I dedicate this to anyone out there who is facing issues or struggling. Seek help. Talk. I was gone. I am back. It can be beaten. Do not give up. If you ever need to talk, send me a message on Facebook. The relevant link is in the blog widget.

Above all- Don't let the bastard win.    

Symbiosis

Go out and meet friends

Grab a movie

Popcorn's on me

Maybe head to a cemetery

And discuss religious beliefs

Or walk down an avenue of trees

Listening to Pink Floyd

The friends you make

Are diverse

Some short, some tall

Some fair, some small

Yet with them you stand tall

Sometimes all you need

Is this symbiotic relationship

To get you through the days

When you're the statue

That the pigeon uses

For target practice

With friends in my life

I feel like Danerys

With a dragon under me

Soaring high

High into the sky

But some friendships last

And some are debris in the past

But as I walk down the winding road

I remember my friends

And am glad

The Bilge Master

Please See Me Dancing

There was once a lake

Inhabited by a black swan

She was the only one

For miles around

She used to dance n

To music in her head

No one heard this music

No one but her

But they used to come

To watch her dance

With beauty and grace

She would gyrate

Once left and once right

And young lovers

Would feel courted

By her amazing grace

Maybe you have gone to the lake

Maybe you have seen her dance

Maybe you haven't had the pleasure

So let me tell you about the way

She danced

She was agile yet slow

Graceful and not too crude

And people who watched her

Were put into a good mood

One day I hope you find

The lake I am talking about

And gaze enthralled

At the dancing black swan

The Bilge Master