Goutam Roy

  White Whale  (By Goutam Roy) The struggle is harsh in the turbulent sea- an incessant contest  with a virulent whale  thrashing through  its own deep waters.  The long unending tassel moves on, countless, Ahab adamant to seize the hidden fortune, while deep sea devour  time- the most valuable one. This monomaniacal  battle does not rest, Youth persists within it, their lives narrowed, forgetting happiness  circling among their fellows.

  Hollow Minds It is as if, on the same rail, the train  runs on- and they ride along, enjoying the journey at their own cost: wasting time, losing money. They cannot perceive  profit; they only dance on borrowed mirth  and grind, to witness fresh episodes  of the same old drama. They return, at last, bearing  hollowed minds. By Goutam Roy 

  Rival Fire      The given name curdled into a devil's game where playfulness learned the taste of ruin.  Laughter settles in the throats of sceptres  who step aside from their own wounds  and feast on borrowed triumph.  The ill-fated, subdued, learn the long discipline of  surrender. Ascension rises- not on victory, but on the silence of those on silence of those  who have forgotten how to cry, in the contest of the Nemean Lion and Heracles. By Goutam Roy 

Deep into the sea, silence reigns-calm, wrapped in darkness, as if waiting for light to unveil the hidden. Mystery drifts in drowsy stillness, a state weary of itself. Darkness beckons  the particles of cosmic regions, each questioning light- fearing the black hole, the terror of being trapped. So the particles, too, question light, seeking light, seeking relief  from the bondage of darkness.  Yet the dark particles persist. This questioning of light goes on infinitely, within the very process  of the universe's creation. ....By Goutam Roy   

by Goutam Roy The world’s brightness had begun to thin before Samuel’s aging eyes. At times he wondered whether the light itself was failing, or only his sight. “Very confusing indeed,” he murmured, to no one. Since his son moved to France, the house had learned a new acoustics. Mornings smelled of silence instead of toast. Evenings carried the weight of memory. Time was measured now in video calls—flickering squares of laughter stretched across time zones. Each goodbye ended the same way: Next visit, we’ll pick up where we left off. Both knew it was untrue. Samuel lived alone, his thoughts often returning to his wife, Margaret, who had died of cancer. She lingered in small acts—in the way a chair remained slightly turned, in the pause before sleep. At night he sat on the roof of his Manchester home, staring into the stars. Sometimes the air carried a scent he knew too well, and he almost heard her voice, drifting from beyond the constellations. Loneliness sharp...

Dazzling stars' ethereal call in the serene night, as if bearing messages from billions of years- tales of hidden abyss. Their flashing smiles  drift like ripples  of creation, still unfolding  far away from us, for reasons unknown. The Lord's infinite crafts  flow on  into eternity.  ....By Goutam Roy