“When You Love a Storm” – Debut Book Launch

“When you love storm, remember,
You never lose even though you’re bruised.
You find yourself and your freedom,
and that’s a good thing.”

When You Love a Storm” is the first collection of poems by Anshuman Dash and it tells the story of a man discovering beauty in the transience of love and coming to peace with the idea of letting go.

The book will be launched by the end of August and will be available for free download Here.

If you would like to follow the latest announcements, please follow the Facebook Page Here.


Hairline Crack – NaPoWriMo 2015: Day 8

The hairline crack
between white and black,
light and the dark;
all that she had, with
everything he lacked
is the measure of
the degree of separation
what has happened,
and what could have,
What will happen
and what should have
It is the standard deviation
Of beliefs gone blind,
Of promises trying
To hold on to
a wisp of smoke
that is slowly dying
as time fills in,
what’s left within
the space that
fills up their hearts
with little tiny parts of
the stars
that made up their dreams

Earphones – NaPoWriMo 2015: Day 7

Like complicated relationships

They always find a way to

Entangle themselves into knots

and then get stuck

Like a beetle on its back

Waiting for the fire truck

To be rescued, and

pulled away from each other

Before somebody gets hurt

Hoping this separation

Serves them well

The space in between

Keeps them sane;

Maybe some day

they will understand that

choking one another

Is not the way, that,

There’s always room for both, that,

even if  stuck on one side

They’re completely free on the other

And when the music starts to play

Both left and right need to stay


and find the right balance

Or else they’ll be thrown away

to spend the rest of their days

Without any purpose

First Kiss


Photo Source: http://www.sodahead.com

I have wondered often,
How it would feel,
When spaces disappear entirely
And our trembling lips meet
Swaying fluidly as one,
Yours leading mine,
A waltz to the rhythm of breaths
We dance, lost in time

I have wondered often,
How it would feel,
When we part fleetingly to see,
and believe if it’s real
I kiss your eyes closed and
You show me a dream
Together we write symphonies
which our lips can sing

I have wondered often,
How would the first kiss feel,
As honest as my words portray,
Or something different entirely?

How Does The Rain Feel?


Photo Source: http://www.lifelounge.com.au/the-lounge/news/top-ten-movie-scenes-in-the-rain.aspx

The rain had come down to see me today, as I was taking a stroll down the memory lane. I was dragging a heavy trunk along, slowly, tired and somewhat agitated. That is when I had felt her presence. I was taken by surprise, ambushed I would say. Cold like my thoughts, she had wrapped me in her embrace. I tried to run to find shelter, run away from her, hide, but there was nowhere to go. The trunk I was carrying, it was impossible to abandon. I just could not do it.

I pleaded before her to let go of me, to leave me alone; to let me pass. But she had held me firmly, despite my resistance. I looked at the trunk, it was soaked. It was melting away. I broke down, It was too much to bear. I think I cried, but rain, she kept wiping my tears off. I begged her, “Please!! Please let me go!! Spare me!!” But the more I pleaded, the stronger her arms wrapped around me. I looked at the trunk again, it had melted entirely.

That is when a sudden warmth rushed through my body. The memories, they had washed away, trickled down like beads of little pearls from a broken necklace. There was no trunk to drag along anymore. I was free.

I stood there standing with my arms wide open, looking at the sky, thanking the heavens for sending her down; Rain.


There was a pleasant shower where I live, today evening and due to that I could not leave office. What is written here was a reply to a question my friend had asked me then, “How does the rain feel?”

I think I might have over-done it a little bit 🙂



Photo Source: http://nature.desktopnexus.com/wallpaper/791737/

The Sun had gone down and the evening looked tired. The fields that passed in a blur, covered in dust-colored drapes, stared expectantly at the sky, and the sky looked back, empathetic, but helpless.

The sky had nothing left to offer except hollow promises and a sense of guilt, that reflected in its attempt to escape behind the veil of parched clouds. It wanted to do more, be more; be what it had once promised to be, the savior  the angel, the protector. But it had failed, and now it was left with no choice, but to face its own betrayal, everyday, for eternity.

The curse, of  broken promise.

Defeated, the sky, closed its eyes, turned its back and walked away as the night walked in to take over the shift.