I cannot pour others frustrations on my ink
They will be blemished and willingly flow away from me
From the pages, like a river churning with dissatisfaction
While pouring my imagination, drop by drop, I try to arouse them
From being a simple concoction of writing aid to a sensitive fluid which can rush to communicate my feelings
The pen has to gather that courage every day before it touches the pages
Not to conquer someone’s stupidity or irascible criticisms
But the coherence of my world can only flow distinctly
The ink has to be resilient to all the hindrances and flow rather nonchalantly
Because it has to convey my deepest thoughts
It will only flow for a reason and not run away, blemished and discoloured
~Amitav
Amitav Chowdhury 