I Am No Lazarus, But I've Been To Hell!

Pranab Ghosh

[A novella (genre memoir) in free verse]

[Part 3]

I woke up

Murmuring to myself...

I had been murmuring 

For quite some time now...

I recalled in half-sleep

As I looked out of the window

Patches of gray and dark gray

Hints of pale blue in-between

Shapes appeared and

Disappeared...

Floated in and out...

Cinematic way

Memories faded in

Memories faded out

Murmurs were audible

In their silence

As I closed my eyes...

“Run on your toes...

Heels must not touch

The ground

On your ties

On your toes...

“Run”!

Murmurs ran around

The ‘tank’ filled with

Hyacinth; “The water’s

Heavy, mind you. Do not

Ever enter the water

To wash; use the tap

Near the playground; the

One on the canteen-wall

You know. Don’t you?”

This is a killer tank

Where young boys

Had drowned at 

Regular intervals,

At least a couple of 

Those, every year.

Most were rescued

But some succumbed...

“This is a killer tank

You’ll have to stay clear!”

Murmurs did the round

Did the round, circling

The tank. One, two, three,

Four, five... on the toes,

Heels not touching the ground

It became a habit soon

“On the toes; heels never

To touch the ground...

This gives you speed...

Mind you... This technique

Alone – mind you.

“On your toes.

Toes.

Toes!”

Murmurs faded out.

I had a fall

You know

The other day

Similar to the three

Mentioned before...

I had a fall,

Only one though...

Felt like a 

Tree suddenly uprooted

By a cyclone... a cyclone...

Only a couple of months ago...

Almost a year after

Those first falls...

Three in a row then

On the same day!

I fell like an

Uprooted tree

Though rooted 

I was to my

Loneliness, boredom,

Agony and pain

With the mask of

Confidence put on,

As always; but that was

Meant to be for those...

Those casual onlookers,

The fault finders

The pretenders

The social-media friends

That you’re often

Forced to ‘un-friend’

For those and those alone...

And for the ‘others’?

Well...

There were hardly

Anyone; there’re 

Hardly anyone

That I have to

Confide in...

Hardly anyone

Left...!

So for myself as well

For myself as well

The masked face,

Confident looking,

But shaken to the core,

Looked on... a steady look

A glance that implore

To hold ground; to continue!

To continue

To continue

So I lay still

Lost to myself

And the world around

Almost dead,

But

I

Rose

Again

As 

If

From

A

Slumber

A

Slumber

A

Slumber

To continue

And carry on.

I looked at 

The sky and tried to

Touch that piece

That murmured back 

To me, thoughts of my dreams

And Desires, 

Aspirations and

Achievements; success

And failures...

Murmured back...

But this 

Piece

Of

The

Sky

Did

Not

Did

Not

But instead

Seemed to

Absorb

All 

My

Agony

And

Pain

All 

My

Loneliness

And 

Tears

And float away

Away

Away

Carrying my sighs

To the unknown

One, yet to arrive, 

Perhaps somewhere

Beyond the seven seas

And thirteen rivers 

To an unknown 

Land that only comes

Alive, when you are

In deep sleep and

Murmurs the lullaby,

The lullaby, the words of which

You fail to recall as you wake up,

Words though that you 

Instantly recognise, even in

Deep sleep, but fail to recall

When awake; words, words...

Words...

That

Assure

Your 

Inner

Being

And

You

Decide

To

Parade

On...,

Out 

Of the hell gate 

Into the Sun-filled world

Where you used to 

Run once, long ago...

“On your toes!”

“Toes only! Mind you.”

“Run

Boy

Run”.

The murmur fades out

... now it’s fading in...

The Murmur has grown

From a sapling to a full-grown

Tree, weathering the storm

Murmur

That

Teaches

Inspires

And...

Leaves you alone

To weather the storm

With

Success

Now!!!

On your toes

Man 

On your toes!!!

[Concluded]

By Pranab Ghosh

Bio: Pranab Ghosh is an award-winning journalist and writer. He has worked for such media houses as The Hindustan Times, The New Indian Express Group, Eenadu Digital, Business India Group etc.. His poems and prose pieces have been published by several International and Indian magazines and e-zines, such as the Indian Literature, Piker Press, Dissident Voice, Memoryhouse, Setu etc.. Two, of his five books of poems were published in 2023 – Karma Cola (Impspired.com, UK) & Love, Religion & Politics (Virasat, Kolkata). He at present stays in Kolkata.

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Setu, December 2025