Sobhan Pramanik   (Sobhan)
10.3k Followers · 53 Following

Storyteller
Joined 1 September 2016


Storyteller
Joined 1 September 2016
2 FEB AT 0:37

there's something about
facing the dark in darkness.
imagine being at the rock
bottom of a pit and looking
up to see a slice of the sky
with lumps of clouds swirling
like snow flakes in purple moonlight.
it's the face of hope.
and sometimes it's much more
than the hand that pulls you
out of that pit.
this is my face of hope, you know,
and i am looking at it square
from the darkness of my room.

it looks much like myself.

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31 JAN AT 5:43

rain lilies

'they bloom when it rains'
she says looking out of the
cab window as we pass
the nursery along the street
opposite my house. the sun is
the colour of morning tea, 
warm and pooling in our laps.

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3 OCT 2018 AT 1:03

KHICHDI: A Short Story

(based on the premise shared by YQBaba)

#FilmWriter7
#YQFilms

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28 AUG 2018 AT 22:49

weave not your dreams
with fragrance of their love.

for fragrances are known to
dissolve and depart with the wind.

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4 JUL 2018 AT 19:52

spears of sunshine come
stabbing through wayward
branches. and the wind is cold
in my face, almost erratic.
it shakes massive
jackfruits to the ground. my
walkway is pulp-splashed,
and this lazy drizzle does little
to wash it clean. sprinkling
soundlessly like find sand -
dusk-colored and oozing
out of this schizophrenic sky;
touching everything, drenching nothing.

(continued in caption)

-


23 APR 2018 AT 11:07

how else would you
treasure these tender
times of togetherness,
without spinning the yarns
of our lives into the
supple spine of books.

how else would you
remember me if i've
not written enough
to be left as trails in time,
when nothing of us
remains anymore.

-


22 APR 2018 AT 20:42

[read in
caption]

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15 APR 2018 AT 11:59

you write to me asking
if the summer is
bearable at home?
and i look out into
the obscure light of rains,
and tell you that not a single
cloud has stopped overhead
eversince we hung our boots.

(contd. in caption)

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14 APR 2018 AT 13:27

i’ve been both your
evening din and morning
gentleness. but it’s been a
while you’ve been out of
bed. drifting between shots,
syringes and men every new
hour. that's not the way, trust me.
you can choose not to fuck
and hold my hand. and we
can open doors to a new place
where there’ll be no gravity,
and you’ll feel no weight of
your scars. we’ll float. near
and far. in thoughts.
of forgetting
and loving anew.

(contd. in caption)

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9 APR 2018 AT 10:20

** read in caption **

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