“Dost” – What Has It Got To Do With “Friendship”?

“I don’t think you would make it”

“It isn’t in your caliber”

“You sure you can do that?”

“Oh come on, that isn’t your cup of tea”

“Not your game bro”


When someone addresses you as a redundant personality, how do you feel? The manner so disparage and condemning, it hurts when the respect you really deserve doesn’t come through to you- no matter how much you’ve tried to prove your mettle and point.


Yet again, the conversations continue – talks happen, cup of coffee flow, ciggies are lit and smoked, more talks with the same condemning buffoon happen- face to face. Your lips smile an emoting sense as a courtesy gesture; the soul and the conscious mind are simultaneously playing their own game- “Am I really that low and imbecile, that I don’t get it I am useless?”- such thoughts within with a fake assuring gesticulation on the outside. For a moment it drops your confidence too.


Belittlement to the self garbs the soul like the dark velvet night sky; this time though sans the twinkle and mystical fanfare- it is dark, and you know this has caught your attention too. Fact it may be, but you don’t appreciate the belittling talk thrown to you in such a way; not by yourself to yourself, and certainly not by others to you.


At the same time, whilst the soul within revolts and you want that respect no matter what, the act of desperation only leads the lips to smile- you smile away at the condescending perpetrator sipping away his brew! WHY?


Who doesn’t make mistakes? We all do! We all need correction at some point in life, and that is what makes us grow better. However, it is not what you say but how your say it- mistakes can be corrected sans humiliation. An old adage says “words when spoken cannot be taken back”, so true- lest the emotions involved that can scar the soul for life. Articulation, intonation and perceptions can make or break the human mind and soul, which is why it is important that we give respect and earn it too- be wise with your ways of correction.


The maid at home, the office peon, the elevator helper, the coffee counter boy, the pizza order girl, the home delivery boy, our letterman and the pantry boy, hawkers on the street, the local sweepers and the chauffeur  too- every one has dreams, aspirations, a thought process and personality, quite different from one to the next. What we notice through the moving of the clock handle all through the day- belittlement at its highest when dealing with workers or work force below our esteem.


Do they react? The answer is NO!


Afraid of losing their source of income; a meager amount that pays their bills, puts food on their table and makes the world spin for them, they shall not speak against or raise their voice against belittlement – they may just end up losing their job.


Belittlement is drilled into us all, just like the maid takes it in her stride that she is useless at using the modernized baking ovens, and the peon is belittled for not being strong enough to brave the heat wave and protect the house- they continue with their jobs; their souls silently crying- their minds wishing they weren’t born poor and in the arms of prejudice that too.


The scenario does change for the so-called ‘thick-skinned’ work force though; when a reaction is thrown back from them to the condemning perpetrator- a stance that makes them think of their respect and dignity- how someone dare belittle them for no fault of theirs. It takes us as a surprise- how dare they, the working class, back chat- stop a moment, have you ever thought how you started the conversation with him/her, it all how you treat people.


The barrow boy outside my plush air-conditioned office workstation, by my window sil selling cigarettes on a hot summer noon, hands out packers of smokes, gutkha and paan (betel leaf).


How do I know him? You may ask. I am in a love-hate steady relationship with nicotine- an unhealthy one for sure, but my nine hour minimum corporate work profile keeps me hooked to this chamber of mercy- sometimes more than three times a day. I notice how people talk nice with him- not my concern though. However, my ears and senses pin up when someone goes ruthless with their words and actions on him- how dare they!


The barrow boy, with harsh comments and orders thrown at him, continues his job under the dance of the ruthless harsh summer sun; it seems his soul has resigned to the arms of fate and destiny. No change in his facial expression after being meted out with harshness; his burnt tan skin and doe eyes are lifeless to the words and comments thrown at the innocent soul- or is it.

He dares to speak but knows if he does, his sales would fall. Every time when I am there, I say “ek cigarette dena”(give me a cigarette), he knows my brand as I am a regular customer to him, he hands out one to me. He’s still to young to revolt; he feels the world would go against him or rebuke the revolution of a young mind, so tortured.


It was just yesterday, when the sinful dark stick of nicotine called for a session of love making- I needed a puff so bad, I walked up to the boy and exclaimed “dost, ek cigarette dena”( Friend, give me a cigarette), he looked at me with glittering eyes and smile to me. “What happened?” I asked.


“Sir, aapne kya bola”(sir, what did you say?)


I stared at him and with a smile I repeated “dost, ek cigarette dena”( Friend, give me a cigarette). He smile with happiness and handed me my brand. As I puffed the sinful flame into the tobacco that waited for the pull, the word “friend” I realized made a change- a smile I could gift to the barrow boy for the day- I felt relaxed.


Thus began the story of a new ‘friend’- I made one!



Amit understands the pain that is love and has avoided any romantic involvement for a long time since Janvi walked out of his life. But the discovery of an old note claiming that she had loved him turns his life upside down. He decides to find Janvi & demand some answers. Things take a more interesting turn with the entry of an enigma of a girl-Aahna. She makes Amit’s heart skip a beat and he starts feeling things he had decided never to feel again. The rest, as they say,is history.

About the author

Amit Pandit is a final year student of NIT Durgapur, pursuing a B.Tech degree in Electrical Engineering. He is twenty two. He is not what you would call a voracious reader and an active writer but he comes up with pages full of random musings all the time. It was on a day like any other that Amit suddenly decided he wanted to become a writer. He has never looked back since. Besides writing, Amit likes to travel, read a lot of fiction and dream of the days when he will become a master storyteller.

you can buy the book here


Love With An Ice Cream Wala_ (1)



As we got out, my eyes suddenly got caught and lost in those kohl lined eyes, framed by astonishingly long, delicate lashes. Weirdly, they reminded me of the eyes of a Barbie doll; so perfectly symmetrical, works of art. I was lost, mesmerized. I struggled to get free from the mystery those amazing eyes held, tripped and fell for her strawberry rose-petal lips instead. What the hell is happening to me? I wondered, Why am I feeling so……. I couldn’t even complete the thought before I was entranced by the proud nose and the aura that seemed to surround bearer. It couldn’t be real. I must be dreaming, I thought, as my frantic eyes feverishly devoured her form, the dark waves of silk that tumbled like a torrent down her shoulders and spread like a dark halo around her head every time the wind blew. I was as lost to the world as I could be without actually leaving it but was dragged back down by the realization that I was getting late. I cast one last, longing look at her in her brown salwar, the perfect picture of an Indian beauty, when my friend said,” arey M.Tech hai yaar!”.


lightning kiss cartoon

 She was on her toes, so very close to me. She didn’t remove her eyes from mine, she came closer. In an instant her lips were on mine. I loved those pink strawberries- they were sweeter than honey. When her lips touched mine, a heat generated in my heart and spread to every single point of my body. I felt the most powerful affection towards her. We communicated with each other with our eyes, trying to explain the desire we were feeling inside. I felt her passion for me. My hands on her hips pulled her closer to me. We both kissed earnestly. I felt her tongue slide between my lips. It was smooth. We expressed our unspoken feelings for each other. She moved back. I brushed aside the hair from her face. Her face was red. She looked different. She had a certain spark in her eyes-she was happy. I could not take my eyes to off her. At that very moment I found that her beauty got magnified as the night got darker.

“Are you a vampire? You look more beautiful as it gets darker”. She didn’t reply, just blushed. Her innocence and purity was mine.I was still holding her. We stared at each other. She touched her lips to my chest and said, “I missed you alot”. I kissed her forehead and then rubbed my nose against it.

I told her that it was 10pm and she should go back. “No, I don’t want to “, she replied. Then she unwrapped herself from my arms and ran into the hostel, saying, “good night, duffer!”

Those two minutes couldn’t be explained. It was the best feeling, thousands times better what I could have imagined.


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                           ONE RUPEE COIN

We are so busy with our lives that we don’t see the things around us until they affect us directly. We, the teens, are busy thinking about our careers, fighting to compete with this new world, competing to survive in this world. Some have goals in their minds; some still don’t know what to do with their lives. We learn a lot of subjects in school, where we build our moral and social values. But there are certain things we learn are neither from our parents, nor from our teachers. It’s from someone you just meet randomly. There’s this one incident that happened…

I belong to the very old city, Kolkata. The place I reside is a place where things have changed with time, old buildings have been reconstructed. There are more street lights than ever before. There were small shops which today have been changed into big malls. Every small house has been changed into multistoried building….one thing which didn’t change in my locality was the JOY SWEET CENTER , specialist in making “rasgulla”, since the British time it’s there to serve with tasty sweets.
I have been going to this shop, to have or bring sweets since the first time Grandpa took me there. Me being a Bengali, love sweets. More often I visit whenever I want to taste those delicious sweets.
On a weekend my mom sent me there to get some sweets as some guests were there to visit us.
I went; I saw a small boy of nine years or may be ten was working there.
I saw Dadu-uncle (the shop owner), trying to tell the young boy to wash the plates. I could only understand that, the small boy doesn’t understand Bengali as Dadu-uncle tried to explain him with his broken Hindi.
I asked for tea, and this young boy slowly moved towards me with the hot cup of tea on the tray. I could see he was wearing new clothes. His complexion was dark, but he had a charm in his face. I loved the smile he gave me when he successfully kept the cup of tea on the table.
That smile, attracted me. I watched him serving other customers, and all the time he kept the smile on his face. His eyes had a spark.
After having the tea and getting the sweets packed I called the  boy, “chotu”, he turned and came towards me said,”ha bhaiya” (yes big brother).
“Bill kitna hua?” I asked. (How much is the bill?).
He went to Dadu-uncle and asked about my bill, and came back to me and said,” 149 rupees.”
I gave him two notes one of hundred and one of fifty. He tried to calculate, the way he was calculating it told me that he still learning to count as he was using his finger tips to add them up.
He came back with that one rupee coin to return.
Before giving that coin to me, he asked “main rakhlu?” (Can I keep this one rupee coin)?
“Okay rakhle!” I said (keep it). I didn’t bother to ask why he want to keep that one rupee coin. I gave him as he was poor. He happily kept that one rupee coin in his back pocket of his pant.
He was very happy; I could not resist and asked him,”kya karega iss ek rupay ka?” (What will you do with this one rupee).
“Mujhe aur char rupay chahiye!!” (I need four rupees more).
“Meri behan ke liye chocolate kharidna hai.” (I want to buy a chocolate for my sister).
I could not stop my smile, I was like, this small boy should have chocolate for himself but he was saving that money for his sister.
“Tumhari behan kaha hai?” (“Where is your sister?”) I asked.
“Wo uncle ke ghar me hai (She is at Dadu-uncle’s house)”, he answered slowly.
I understood. Dadu Uncle has given shelter to these two children.
“Tumhari maa kaha hai? (Where is your mom?)” I asked
He kept quiet for some time and a tear rolled his checks and softly he asked me back “kaha hai?” (Where is my mom). I didn’t have any answer to his question but I knew how to bring his smile back on his face. I gave him ten rupees note and told him to buy two chocolate for himself and his sister.
His happiness was in that chocolate and I would have never known the pain behind that charming smile if he didn’t ask for that one rupee coin.


MAA… PAPA….white-mom-dad-junior-s-tees_design

   In this world, the first one I trusted was, my MAA(mom). It’s just few days I arrived in this world, I can’t speak, but maa can understand every unspoken word of mine. She knew when I was hungry, when I was thirsty. I cried when I felt uncomfortable, but soon I felt calm and relaxed when she took me in her arms, the heaven, the place I always felt safe, and the best place to sleep. She always tried to make me happy; she did anything to see me smiling. She didn’t sleep so many nights just to see if I was sleeping soundly. The first word I learnt was “MAA”, and the word I always called out when I needed anything. Till that day I lived in a world where I and my maa existed but soon she brought the best person of her life and taught me to call him “PAPA”. Times when I opened my eyes I found papa making faces to make me smile, playing with me, and kissing my cheeks.

When I was few months old, papa helped me to learn how to walk while maa opening her arms wide open from the other end, calling me, “aaja shona” waiting for me to reach her. Without fearing I took my small steps, knowing even if I fall, I will be in maa’s arms. While playing papa was my horse and I was the horse rider. I was always the winner of any game we played. Soon I learnt to walk and also to speak few more words.
When I was two years old, maa used to ran after me to make me eat; I went all around the house hiding myself behind the sofa, under the bed, behind the door. When maa could not catch me, she gave me the threat that she will lock me up in the bathroom. Then I had to listen to what she said. In the evening, when I heard the door bell, I ran to open the door as I knew it was Papa, but could not open the door as I was too short to reach the door-lock. Maa opened the door and I ran and stuck to papa’s leg, not to show my love but to check if papa has got chocolates in his pockets. I loved to fight with papa and could hit his stomach as much as I wanted.
Soon I was admitted to a school. Maa and papa both came to drop me on my first day of school. I didn’t want to go inside but the “darwan uncle” (security guard) took me inside, and I hated him for that. I could see maa had tears in her eyes while she allowed the “darwan uncle” to take me inside.
That day I feared new people around me except maa and papa.
I made new friends there in school. I had stories to tell maa when I returned from school. Sometimes papa had to give me some bribe in form of chocolates or ice-creams to make me go to school.
I started liking my school not for studies but for the friends I made there. I was growing up; I had more people in my life except maa and papa. I spent more time on computer playing games than talking to my maa as I used to do. Earlier I directly demanded to papa what I needed but later I conveyed my need first to maa then maa relayed that to papa.
Things were changing, now I didn’t ran to check papa’s pocket if he had brought chocolates for me or not, but I felt worried and checked the clock over and over if it goes beyond the papa’s arriving time from his shop.
A final day arrived when I was done with my schooling.
I was sent to a college, a residential one, got busy developing my career. I was sent away from my maa and papa just to study in college and to get a good job. Papa gave all the help to me to make my career. Maa was there with me when I spent sleepless nights for my board exams. Papa enrolled me in a good school where the fees were very high. Because of my fees he could never buy a new bike for him. When I was small the house was a very big place for me to play hide and seek but as I grew old I found it to be very small where arrival of a single guest in our house caused me and maa-papa to sleep in a room huddled together. So I decided to fulfill all the dreams of my parents. I told to myself that I will buy a new house with my earnings; get a car for my maa-papa when I get a job.
Today I got a job, I am returning back to my hometown Kolkata. But I am not happy; I don’t have any one to share this happiness. I hope papa had told me about the loan he took for me to complete my studies in this college. I wish he had told me about his blood cancer… I hate them for not telling me anything. I wish I could be with my mom when she broke down after my papa was not there. They thought I will be happy if they keep me away from all this pain they were going through. That was the reason I found maa crying when I called her from college, every time she lied to me when I asked,”why are you crying??” and she simply said, “I am crying because I am missing you”. I being an idiot accepted that reason.
“Today I want to scream loud and say I MISS YOU MAA-PAPA”
Love your parents… you don’t know when they are not there to listen to your gibber-jabber.
I love you maa-papa.