Ronie Dinosaur

I was silenced at my questions- each one met with a quiet no. No one ever saw the artist’s heart hammering inside me, the poet’s tongue, the philosopher’s gaze. Read more from here...

Sometimes a man has to look in the mirror at least once a day, maybe after taking a dump, while washing his hands. The internet “Doomer” gives up and rots. Ronie Dinosaur walks. Read more from here...

I’ve studied enough philosophy to understand the old promise: a man and a woman, once married, become each other’s mirror and witness- each the living proof that the other is not insane, not alone, not condemned to solipsism. I sometimes wonder what kind of people they were whose love was truly met with love; Read more from here...

In a world where my heart keeps thirsting for love, how the hell am I supposed to understand it? When I go looking for beauty, all I really want is one woman to love me. When I hunt truth, all I really want is to be famous for this grief. When I ask, “Who am I?”, I swell into Ronie Dinosaur-just so I have something to fight with. And still I keep searching for the one mirror Read more from here...

He ran carrying the corpse of Sati on his shoulder, asking the sky, “What is this weight? Why me?” I run with empty fists clenched so tightly the knuckles bleed, daring the same sky: “Look me in the eye. Stop whining. Stop cheating. Fight fair.” My arms are not open in surrender; Read more from here...

Losing every battle, one by one, Ronie Dinosaur arrived- scarred, stripped bare, still standing. I no longer know where the winners went, or whether they ever existed. Even cattle need a shepherd. Read more from here...

She took something from me at first sight- a thing she never gave. I dreamed of spells, Bengali babas murmuring totkas over guttering oil lamps, of coaxing the vanished fragment home or at least lulling its ghost to silence. Read more from here...