Budhaditya Chakrabarty
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Stories (2)
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Discordant Paradise
In the celestial rivulets of your paradise, I have traversed with the scythe, my sinews resounding with the symphony of love. The reservoirs of my emotions brim with tears, every drop a testament to my autonomous affection. I have never harbored a sense of absence; instead, all the rivulets have unfurled their tendrils within the chambers of my heart. There is nothing I have not encountered, yet I remain devout in my trust upon this world, upon all humanity. Now, tell me, how will you resurrect love in my heart for the world?
By Budhaditya Chakrabarty2 years ago in Critique
Sports Car
I disdain the ephemeral ideals, life philosophies, and activities of humanity on this Earth. Yet, I harbor no aversion for life itself, as it emanates from an imperceptible source, a visible current that is not guided by these dogmas but emerges from the profound depths of emptiness, rising like the inexhaustible essence from the arid soil of time. For all the transgressions on this spinning globe, I first seek the faults within myself. Upon careful contemplation, I perceive my misdeeds as cosmic in scale and a playful mockery of irreparable damages. I acknowledge that wrongdoers and those silently bearing the burden of their transgressions are inherently intertwined, complementary forces. I intensely abhor the insidious idolatry of the leash for its insatiable materialistic cravings. I vividly remember selling my mother at the hands of the butchers in the marketplace for a sports car. The orchestration of a nocturnal feast in pursuit of acquiring the sports car was matched by waiters presenting American steaks, triggering the aroma of my mother’s flesh from the depths of memory.
By Budhaditya Chakrabarty2 years ago in Critique
