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@sayantanwrites
Jain Book Center:Pandora Box of Second-hand Books
“Oh yes, I knew him, spent years with him” these words by poet Pablo Neruda were the first thing came to my mind when I met Anil Jain of Jain Book Center, at the pavements of G-Block Connaught Place, New Delhi.
Every time you walk along that pavement you will find Jain sitting in a wooden stool. The man with the grey and black beard is now in his late 50s, started this bookshop 31-years ago. In…
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National Restaurant, Connaught Place: Journey from Lahore to Delhi
The National Restaurant of Connaught Place, Delhi is one of the best non-veg dhabas of the city. However, the place is a bit lesser known to the regular crowd as the focus generally stays at the Kake da hotel of CP.
National has a long history as its original journey began from Lahore, now in Pakistan but earlier it was with India indeed. The hotel shifted to CP in 1948 by its owner Sitaram…
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A cart from childhood
When I was a child I had a fascination for the colourful gems, mouri logenze, imli, hajmola, amlaki and other such packed colourful logenzes. In my childhood at buses and trains of Kolkata hawkers used sell those and I was desperate to buy them.
I am not the only one for sure. Every child has a fascination for those colourful things. In Delhi amid the crowd of Old Delhi’s Jama Masjid you will…
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Old Delhi butter chicken is not red and spicy
Old Delhi butter chicken is not red and spicy
When you imagine butter chicken you are forced to think about a red and spicy gravy, butter only at the top. But just think if the butter chicken was all about butter gravy how would it be?
A plate full of Old Delhi butter chicken made with hot butter, dahi and spice mixes
Exactly this happens if you taste the butter chicken of the Matia Mahal area (the area around Jama Masjid of Old…
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Nihari Story: Three best restaurants in Delhi and the recipe
Nihari Story: Three best restaurants in Delhi and the recipe
When I first came to Delhi, I had no idea about Nihari because this traditional Mughlai dish was not very popular in Kolkata. But after coming to Delhi, I was introduced to this delicious food and trust me its addictive.
Nihari is a stew based dish, originated from the Awadhi cuisine. It is traditionally a dish for the breakfast, however now Nihari is available throughout the day at various…
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When the night ends
When the night ends
Summer in Kolkata had two different emotions. The muggy days with sweat-drenched clothes and then the Kalboishakhi, which brought respite through storm and rain. Utsav could never like the sultry summer but loved the Kalboishakhi like any other Bengalis.
He always waited for the storm as we all do. He used to stand at the window of their house and look at the streets. The arrival of the storm…
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Never forget the childhood
Never forget the childhood
Delhi has a slum of Rohingiyas. They do not have a country. They do not have fundamental rights. But they have dreams. You might not have anything, but you can dream because it is something which is yours. Life is not certain for anyone. It changes in its own way. We should not ever compromise to live our own life. Nobody, in this world, has the time to stand beside you and to support you.…
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After Every Storm, There is Some Peace
After Every Storm, There is Some Peace
I have nothing to write but I want to write today. I want to write to release and to cry. I think writing is the best way to express your anxiety, sadness, anger and whatever you have inside. I can’t cry all the time because I have grown up and crying has a limit. To release my stress at this time I need something unlimited. I exactly do not know what I am thinking but do we really know what…
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The end is tough
You wake up each day and get loved. You might never try to look back. Because the was tough for you too. We held our hands but never understood, we loved the time and time flies. We could not. I go back to the time where I left you. I can not see us every time I go back, as the end is tough. It breaks. (A repost from https://1622ghoshsayantan.wixsite.com/sayantanwrites)
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The old smell of your hair When I walk along our lanes, I see the kababwalas are still holding the same old smile.
Your peace trail I think the thoughts of you follow me everywhere. I cried before leaving you but you did not.
Pages of my dark book-1
Her insatiate heart was starving for an unrestrained yearn of a touch. The man of her love is gentle and tender but those make her wheeze all the night. She waits for the past, the man when he touched her body the soul shivered. Her heart spangled for the irresistible dream of a boundless sear, to sail only her and him. Where is that man? He was hiding behind the stories of a rugged world,…
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Christmas: A day of memories
Merry Christmas, a word which brings a lot of memories to me. The memories of growing up. When I was a kid, I used to sleep at night with dreams of getting gifts from Santa. The favorite old man. The morning of Christmas in Kolkata has always been fascinating to me. My parents used to take me to the St Paul’s Cathedral. The candles, the people, balloons, happy faces and colored winter clothes…
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I can walk alone
Tears were running down to share the pain. The pain of a loss without any hint. The night was talking to me slowly, I knew what I want and whom I want. I reached there to cry and to cry keeping my head, But nobody was there, Nobody was ever there who can hold me tight I wanted to be alone with her for tonight, The dark night whispered the truth “You cannot”. I looked at myself in front of the…
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The wait never ends
Every night I wait for you, I wait to hear your voice which flows from the universe. The voice from somewhere which keeps me walking. The solitude of your melancholy voice, makes me wait every moment for you. The attraction for you never dies and the wait never ends.
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You are my solitude
If the world asks me to stay alone, If the night asks me to stay just with myself. I know you will come and be at my side, in the darkest nights of my life, I knew that you are my solitude.
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I knew only to love
Behind the life where darkness holds me, I found you there. Within the tranquil woods of love, you were silently staring at the moon. The beauty which defines you, the splendid sky and the melancholy notes of an old violin were telling our notes. Following the trail of your of your rhythm I found my life. I was lost amidst the darkness and the mundane days, I met you as lovers meet. I…
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