Repeat- Ishika Yadav

Another morning,

The chirping birds drowned,

By a heavy sigh,

The orange glow ambling into the room,

Fingers clenching onto the duvet,

As if holding on to the final lifeline,

The sunshine ever so bright,

Its rays like arrows,

Against my shield,

The air whispers into my ears,

With its' every placid breath that I hear,

The cacophony of my thoughts gets wilder,

get up,

freshen up,

go to work,

I repeat in my head,

Silencing all the voices,

I begin to map out my day,

A map with all its streets twisted and turned,

And the more I look at it,

The more it looks like a gun,

A gun I wish I could put to my head,

Its cold touch,

Like a lover's lips against my skin,

And BOOM!,

I wonder how it would feel,

As all the thoughts spill out,

Would all the words at the tip of my tongue burst out like confetti?,

Celebrating my long-awaited peace,

Would the words stuck to my skin,

Finally, rub off,

My body starts to curl up into a ball of haterade and disgust,

Another morning,

Another morning indeed

Aao Naari Ka Astitv Batati Hu. | Alka Kumari

AAO NAARI KA ASTITV BATATI HU !

SRISTI KA AARAMBH MUJHSE,

OR ANT BHI MUJHSE.

LEKH TOH DEKHO KISMAT KA,

TIKA HAI MUJHI PAR YEH BRAHMAND,,

PHIR BHI SAABIT MUJHE HI KARNA HAI ASTITV MERA AAJ.

AAO NAARI KA ASTITV BATATI HU !

JANAM LETI LAXMI ROOP MEIN,

PHIR BHI BOJH HU,,

BACHPAN SE HI TUM PARAYI GHAR KI HO YE SOCH LU.

BAAT AAYI SIKSHA KI TOH,

STHAN MERA ANTIM KYU AAYA.

KYU PUCHE GAYE SAPNE SABHI KE,

OR KYA KARNA HAI APNI ZINDAGI MEIN… MUJH PAR THOPA GAYA.

AAO NAARI KA ASTITV BATATI HU !

NAUKARI TOH NAARI PURUSH SAMAAN KARTE HAI,

PHIR GHAR KE SAARE KAAM NAARI KE BHAG MEIN HI… KYU AATE HAI.

MAASHIK MEIN PET DARD… JAAN LENE KE SAMAAN HOTA HAI,

PHIR BHI PITA PANI BETE SE NAHI BETI SE HI… KYU MANGTA HAI.

AAO NAARI KA ASTITV BATATI HU !

HAMESHA KAHA GAYA NAARI PURUSH MEIN ANTAR HOATA HAI,

ISILIYE SAARE KAAM KA BOJH MUJHPAR LAAD DIYA GAYA HAI.

SACH HI HAI NAARI KE KIRDAAR MEIN… KISI KI IZZAT LENE KA KALANK NA AAYA HAI.

AAO NAARI KA ASTITV BATATI HU !

SHADI SE PEHLE PITA… OR SHADI BAAD PATI KA ADHIKAAR HOTA HAI,

EK BAAT TOH BATAO NAARI VASTU HAI YA JEETI JAGTI PRAKRITI KA HISSA.

KHOOBSURAT HO TOH GHAR SE BAHAR MATT JANA… GALAT NIGAHEIN UTHENGI,

OR BADSURAT HO TOH CHALISH KI HO GAYI… PAR DOLI NAHI UTHENGI.

NA BHOOT SE DAR NA PRET SE DAR,

NA GAAYE SE DAR NA SHER SE DAR,,

CHHE BAJE SE PEHLE GHAR AA JANA… PURUSH ROOP MEIN DANAV SE DAR.

AAO NAARI KA ASTITV BATATI HU !

MARYADA HAMESHA NAARI PAR HI KYU HOTA HAI,

GALTI KARE PURUSH… SAJA OR DOSH UNGLI KE ROOP MEIN… NAARI PAR HI KYU UTHTA HAI.

LAKSHMAN REKHA KE ROOP MEIN SITA KO SIMA,

OR APNA VARR KHUD NAHI CHUN SAKTI… BABUL KI ANGAN KI SIMA.

BETA YADI APNI MARZI SE VIVAH KAR LAAYE,

TOH BAHU AAYI HAI.

OR BETI YADI KARE… TOH MARDO SAMBANDH TOD DO,

LAAZ DUBA KE AAYI HAI.

AAO NAARI KA ASTITV BATATI HU !

KYU SITA KO BACHANE RAM KO JANA PADA,

KYU DROUPADI KE VASTRA KRISHN KO BADHANA PADA.

DO YUGO KI LEELAO KO ADHAARIT KAR,

PURUSH KE PEECHE NAARI KO MAUN… KYU KHADA REHNA PADA.

AAO NAARI KA ASTITV BATATI HU !

AB SUNO PRACHANDTA MERI,

AB SUNO PRACHANDTA MERI,,

PURUSH KE DAMBH MEIN REHNE WAALE,,,

NAARI KE DHAIRYA KO KAHI SAMJH NA LENA VIVASTA MERI.

NAARI HU NAR NAHI,

JANM DE SAKTI HU… TOH MRITYU MUJHSE PARE NAHI.

AAO BATAU SACH JAGAT KO,

SATYUG SE LEKAR KALYUG TAK KO.

HAR GHADI MEIN HAR YUGO MEIN… PURUSHO KE SATH KHADI HU,

JAB BHI AAYA SANKAT UNPAR… BEECH MEIN DIWAR BANI HU.

AAO NAARI KA ASTITV BATATI HU !

RAM MAAR SAKE RAVAN KO,

VARDAN AISA HI BRAHMDEV KA THA.

CHUKAR JAL NA JAAYE RAVAN NAARI KO,

ISILIYE MAINE AGNI SWIKAAR KIYA THA.

LAAZ THI VARDAN KI,

PHIR BHI SAHARA MERA LENA PADA,

RAM BHATKE RAVAN KO MARNE KE LIYE,,

ANYATHA SITA KA TOH CHAYA ROOP HI… NAARI BANKE RAVAN KO JALATA THA.

AAO NAARI KA ASTITV BATATI HU !

TRETA HI NAHI DWAPAR KI BHI BAAT SUNATI HU,

CHALO NAARI KI HUNKAAR SUNATI HU.

YAGYA SE NIKLI NAARI ROOP MEIN YAGYASAINI THI WO,

MARYADA MEIN REHTE KAISE HAI… KRISHN LEELA MEIN SAHYOGI… DROUPADI THI WO.

BECHAARI NAHI KRISHNA THI WO,

PHIR SE PURUSH UDDHAAR KE LIYE KHADI THI WO.

CHHAN BHAR MEIN JALA DETI… DWIT SABHA KO,

NAARI ROOP MEIN VIKRAAL THI WO.

KRISHN KI SAHAYATA KE LIYE,

SWAYAM DHARE UPKAAR THI WO.

KYA BACHATE KRISHN SAKHI KO,

KYA HI KAR PAATE PACHH PATI WO,,,

JISSE PURUSH KA ASTITV TIKA HAI,,,

KYA KHAK BACHATE WO NAARI KO.

AAO NAARI KA ASTITV BATATI HU !

SATYUG BHI KUCH AISA HI THA,

NAARI BIN JAGAT KHALI JO THA.

JAB SAKTI KA AADHAR NAHI THA,

MAHAKAAL KA ARDH BHAG NAHI THA.

SRISTI MEIN UTSAV AAYA,

SHIV KE BAAYE BHAG MEIN… NAARI NE STHAN JO PAYA.

DUSTO KA UPADRA GURRAYA,

TOH MAHAKAALI KA PARCHAM LEHRAYA.

THI SRISTI ANT KE KAGAR PAR,

JAB KAALI ROOP MEIN MRITYU MANDRAYA.

HO RAHA THA HAR JEEV KA ANNT,

TOH KIYA SAANT SHIV PURUSH NE.. PAV NAARI KA HRIDAY LAGAYA.

AAO NAARI KA ASTITV BATATI HU !

KALYUG BHI ISI JAGAT MEIN HAI,

KALI TUM GHAMAND DIKHAO NAHI,,

ATYACHAAR KI SIMA PURUSH TUM AISE DARSAO NAHI.

ANYATHA SANKALP NAARI KA,

ISS YUG MEIN KALKI AANE NAHI DUNGI,,

SAYAD ISWAR KA SATH AB DE NAHI PAUNGI.

EK HI CHHAN MEIN TEENO LOK KA ANNT,

PALAK JHAPKAATE HI SRISTI DUBA DUNGI.

MERI MAMTA KO GUHAAR MATT SAMJHNA,

MERI PUKAAR KO LAACHAAR MATT SAMJHNA,,

KISI SAKTI KI JARURAT NAHI,,,

KEWAL NAJRO SE HI BHASM KAR DUNGI.

PRITHVI NAARI SRISTI NAARI,

PRAKRITI NAARI HAR JEEV KE ANSH MEIN NAARI,,

BHIDNA MATT KYUKI.. HU MAI NAARI.

HU MAI NAARI.

AAO NAARI KA ASTITV BATATI HU !

Untying the Knot- Abha Pathak

I am to blame for this union's plight,

For I chose you, though my heart was not alight.

My parents' wishes, they weighed on my mind,

Their peace of mind, I sought to bind.

At first, I was cold, but you grew cold as well,

And all my efforts, they fell upon hell.

I tried to save this marriage, not for you,

But for society, it's gaze so true.

I was not good for you, nor your kin,

Our families' views, they did not blend.

You chastised me, my every word and thought,

"No one cares what you think," you often brought.

You controlled my life, my every move,

My money, my time, my desire to groove.

I tried to compromise, again and again,

But your uptight morals suffocated me, like a den.

You always wanted your way, to be right,

Even if it meant, a slap, a choke, a fight.

You suffocated me, under your weight,

For eating lunch or dinner before you, sealed my fate.

We changed our home, believing in the blight Of evil eye,

but evil filled your soul,

A charade of love, a facade so grand,

While your soul was dark, your heart in your hand.

Petty fights would rage, your voice a storm,

Intimidating me, my spirit torn.

No words allowed, your dominance decreed,

Your ego reigns, your victory decreed.

I still recall that haunting day,

When to a lawyer's den you dragged me away.

My face was red, my body frail,

With hunger and thirst, my spirit did wail.

I begged for mercy, for love's sweet refrain,

But your heart was cold, your resolve in vain.

You treated me worse than your humble maid,

While kindness to others you freely displayed.

A husband's love, you never did give,

No gifts, no affection, in which to thrive.

My requests for money, you swiftly rebuffed,

For why should your working wife should ask you for money.

A loving husband, all I desired,

But our definitions vastly conspired.

Now I see, through the mist of despair,

That your love was a prison, I could not bear.

I try to move on now

Sometimes I fly,

Sometimes, everything inside me cries

I thought I knew pain

Until I buried memories to avoid the relentless, haunting strain.

Your false promises filled the air,

Your face was fraudulent, I swear.

Marriage vows meant naught to you,

Your due has now been paid on Earth, it's true.

Like a blind person, I couldn't see your abuse,

But my family's love helped me choose.

Now I'm free from your demonic hold,

My story's yet to be told.

Happy, free, and adventurous,

My future's brighter than yours.

No more shadows, no more fear,

I'm the architect of my own frontier.

I see a future bright, a destiny to pursue,

My light shines on, while yours fades from view.

So goodbye, demon, I bid you adieu,

I'm starting a life that's brand new.

Jar of Emotions: Full and Flowing | Simran Takkar

Emotions are hard to control,

Those need not be contained,

To let you drain,

For your soul deserves love,

To live sane.

Though, people believe that they can hide,

Those emotions that live with things,

Side by side.

Those who express, call them-

strong?

Or wrong?

Yet, those innocent emotions,

Don’t keep it inside,

it is good to let it go,

Let it flow.

With this, you will live,

You love and, grow.

When emotions drip heavily inside,

And creates a blurry sight.

It calls for expression- that’s your right.

మార్పు/change- Sri Lakshmi Bhavani Nandamuri

మార్పు

సంపదతో సమయం కొనగలమా?

అందంతో ప్రేమ పొందగలమా?

విజ్ఘ్యానంతో విఘ్న్యత గడించగలమా?

వనరులుతో వయస్సు తరిగించగలమా?

భౌతికవాదముతో స్పందన నొసగునా?

ఆడంబరములతో ఆనందం ప్రాప్తించగలదా?

జీతముతో జీవితపు విలువ త్రూయగలమా?

భోజనంతో భుక్తి తీర్చగలము,

ఆలోచనతో ఆర్తి తరిగించగలము,

ఆచరణతో ఆదర్శము కాగలము,

నేర్పుతో నవశఖము వ్రాయగలము,

ప్రాకృతిక స్వేచ్చలో ప్రేరణ పొందగలము,

ప్రయత్నముతో ప్రపంచము జయించగలము,

స్పూర్తితో విశ్వపు మూలాలనే చేధించగలము,

మాయ నుంచి ముక్తి వైపు మలుచుకుందాం..

ఆశ నుంచి ఆశయం వైపు అడుగులు వేద్దాం..

గమనం నుంచి గమ్యం వైపు సాగుదాం..

A Choice Easiest So Far | Rita Rana

What a shame those transformed apes are,

Given two platters and a choice, the easiest so far,

A game no less than a child's play,

but too flawed, they chose a cruel stay,

On platter number one was a mind to create,

hands, feet, and the body to dress up and date,

Wear pretty, clever, and everything fashionable,

Wear soothing, stylish, and everything comfortable,

A mind to choose the color, the size, the pattern,

flavors there were more pleasing than heaven,

and there were irons, batteries, wires, screens,

the ability to create life prettier than a dream,

and there was kindness, music, and colors to embrace,

and an opportunity is given daily to live a life of grace,

Some transformed apes chose this platter,

Alas! very few, so it didn't matter,

What choice others made? Were they wise?

Did they let love rise? If not, then at what price?

On the other side was platter number two,

Cruelest, but how it managed to woo?

Number two let them go mad and do worse,

tear others' clothes and flesh with all the force,

or mock hungry appetite snatching their plate,

there was everything on sale, such a sad fate,

education, health, morals, and principles,

no generosity, no duty, but only business,

their hunger and greed never cease,

eventually, they chose pain over peace,

those feet and hands utilized to assault,

kill, suppress and take pride in every fault,

Two options given every day and all the time,

The choice easier than a nursery rhyme,

Despite all the power and the voice given,

those apes chose to be poison-ridden,

What a shame those transformed apes are,

Else who prefers platter two over one,

and darkness over the shining star?

What a shame those transformed apes are.

The laws of my mom and universe- Neethu Prasanna

The laws of my mom and universe

…………………………….

My uncle had warned me       Not to seed her in the

bed           Of laterite, pee and millipede.

Almost every night I hear him,         her canopy,

Hurling out mudiyattam,      the strain of shingles.

Is it true          that a mouthful of water contains about

18* 10^6 molecules        that passed through the esophagus

of someone who lived roughly for fifty years?

Four sides it’s bermuda grass.    Covering the existence

of my shortcut                the trail to the margin free

store is kept             non-trodden.

If I forget to skip it         then I also forget to look down

Her newlywed kancheevaram leaves               the glare

that grows,       somewhere in the middle          I’m lost.

I hear him,           the chill she places on my back as I look

through       She wants           and doesn’t want          things

just like before           cigars fall         through my manicured

fingers        unsucked         I don’t turn these days.   Nor I open

the door.  But matter is                    I had.

First fruit             was an unwanted pregnancy.   I do

what seemingly she instructs me to do.            Eat.

The distance           this supple flesh    milk my infancy

These incongruities are not as big as you think.    The law of

conservation,   decay          eat               once from her

womb        complete the cycle         until she gets there

until my head                        hits the pit.

मेरा आजाद भारत | Kanchan Bansal

यह मेरे दिल का अफसाना है

जिसे मैंने शब्दों में बांधा है

यह मेरी ही तो आजादी है

जिसे मैंने मेरे अपनों से मांगा है ।।

कहने को तो आजाद हूं मैं -२

पर सच तो ये है कि

इस आजाद भारत की गुलाम हूं मैं

इस आजाद भारत की गुलाम हूं मैं।।

क्यों मेरी आजादी डरती है -२

खाली सड़कों पर घूमने से,

क्यों मेरी आजादी छिपती है-२

लड़के - लड़की के अंतर से।।

क्यों मुझे ही मर्यादाओं और रेखाओं की दुहाई दी जाती है ?? -२

क्यों औरों के लिए मेरी ही आजादी दफन की जाती है ?? -२

पूछती हूं मैं-२

इस देश की संकीर्ण मानसिकता से ,

इस समाज के ठेकेदारों से ,

इन सभ्य परिवारों से ,

क्या सच में आजाद हूं मैं ?? .....…..

क्या इस आजाद भारत की तस्वीर हूं मैं ??......…

गर तुम इसे ही आजादी मानते हो,

तो गुलाम ही ठीक हूं मैं

तो गुलाम ही ठीक हूं मैं।।

Vortex of Separation | Kshitiz Kumar Singh

A firefly danced through the ash/leaving trails of a glorious cyan/streaking in the bloody crimson streets/residential havelis laid along serpentine alleys/jostling with helpless crowds in myriad markets and endless lanes.

there it is/a Nehru poster/a Gandhi pamphlet/a Jinnah scribbling/satisfied with their

position on the dragon back/clawing and etching borders freehand.

kid on a bullock cart wonders/sandstone brick, demolished homes, aroma of jalebis/roasted shawarmas and dried chilies on the terrace/holy mantras and wavering azans are fractured.

‘Azad’ Hind Fauj and Glory

I see the afternoon gathering of blood-ridden coconut trees; peripheral scope of the sky seems dull and full;

Locked in my toes that avoid getting wet in the war rash; tepid rain over my loneliness.

I long to be part of the sweat and the sunshine

The vinegar and blood of my men together some day

Across the bunkers I hear my enemies

The pompous drone of machine rifles.

I wonder if you knew my bombs would explode; inside the bones of my children

Wrapped up detonation, handed down through generations,

Each fuse would burn through the lifetimes, set ablaze to our lifelines.

I am still walking on your shrapnel; in the bones of my structure, itching with your gunpowder

When you feel more made of wounds than of person; the craters can swallow you I am learning to reshape these chasms.

My body is a landscape with rolling chains for a mind; formed from mud and molded with time

Mountains of stature, valleys that run deep; a core of folding fire, ever burning and heating

Oscillating, pupating, eroding and healing, I am learning, I am learning; to share my home with demons.

If in my burning dreams, you too could place; across the crevice through which we shot them;

And witness the blue eyes slam shut in my face, his goblin frame, like Satan’s sin

If you could feel, at every crux, the red; come flowing out of my air corrupted lungs, bitter as disease, bitter as bullet.

Small sandcastle on a muddy street in Karachi

a little glass bead/blazing within/into summer’s tumbler; paradise crumbled as

midnight rose/to the pandemonium of freedom;

mellowed meadows/trumpets of warm mustard fields/shiny polaroid and a rescue spree/families shattered like a porcelain plate/why did they left the seeds/when watered with tears.

A Refined Nation and Brotherhood

to the old trouper’s eye/saffron and green are the same colours/a ragtag of rules for

love and blood alike/a thin-boned, cat-lithe woman who tip-toed the fine edge/ between elegance and vulgarity

she twirled across to notes of her ravishing flute and her man/ivory and grace unmatched/same blood, varied red.

backdrop of communal clouds/dust of death rained down on their face/arising with the clatter/rising smoke settled to the bumps of a raging mob/nothing has changed/seventy-five years in vain.

14/15 August

some days are prime/humid, thick and swollen/fire sets in like diabolical hypoxia and

countrymen gasp/air to fill their lungs/pride to fill their heart/claret flood of blood/I yearn for dead limbs

how it feels when they ask- “how far is home?”, “amidst the sky, amidst the sky”.

Our Sunset- Ananya Nayak

A summer-cast park bench holding rainwater memories,

a sunset that seems to linger and never let you go

as long as you don’t look away.

Veins on a frosted glass, heavy with raindrops

these drops are heavier away from the aery wind

they drip as tears from ice cubes, metaphorical props

watching the wilting sun with all the time they have to spend

Does the ice drop watch the melting sun with knowing sorrow?

does it resent the ember cast skies for the same love-

knowing they will never meet again

once they both melt in the dusk trove-

lost to darkness and void and silent pain.

“Are you leaving, my sun?”, the ice-drop murmured

“I thought we had six minutes before the twilight cast its shadow”

I thought I wouldn’t have to see you melt first

Well, at least in the realm of our tiny universe collapsing,

you and I here are to watch the last six minutes of the supernova

I can hold you still inside my frosted glass hands within the imploding”

“Think not about who melts first, my frost”, the flame said steadily

“Instead think about the convergence of our memories, now still,

Standing so still at the event horizon of our fates ending,

stay with me in our twilight meadow of finite infinity

Hold my hand as the meteors fall, as I am drawn under

pulled by cosmic strings that will rip apart our embrace

in four minutes our clock holds no domain in this space

but they can never take away the infinity

with which I cast my glance upon your face

Cast with my love transcending this imploding space”

“I still wish I hadn’t seen you melt first, my love”

The last ringing tones of the ice drop’s wish lamented

etched so gently on the frost

“I saw a million pulsars in your gaze as you melted away”

and in saying so the ice drop also halted its stay

dissolving with all its tears at the base of the frosted glass.

and yet the sun rose again.

Fate was kinder to her whose reality ended at the end of our embrace

and yet the sun, now alone rose again,

dragged upward by cosmic strings to play light to new rain

One fated to watch their flame melt first,

One fated to fade first and rise alone, again.

Our infinity ended yesterday, my ice drop

but when I melt once again today

I shall glance at your memories with the same love as yesterday

I will contest fate again as it tears me away"

Echoes of A Young Heart | Shreyansh Das

Once upon a time, there was a boy

Young he was with eyes so bright

Full of faith and full of might

Amidst the chaos, he sought his light

He had been taught about the pioneers

About the rebels and the mutineers

Still, not once was he told about the worldly fears

Thought he was in the calm in the clear

Now it was getting harder for him to steer

The words that built him made him fall apart

The weight of the world he lived in shattered his heart

His dreams kept him up at night

The nightmares gripped him with fear

Holding him tight

Time made him bolder, even children get older

He climbed a mountain and turned around

Scaled the summit but feared what he found

Worn-out faces in worn-out places

Bright and early for their meaningless races

Hold me, unfold me

"I'm small and needy," he said.

Embrace me and love me, a plea he pled

They told him it would be fine

They urged him to be kind

Failing to realize he was actually falling behind

Everyone said they think they know it

Hurting deep down, still he couldn't show it

His love changed to wreck it all

Cutting his ropes for his own downfall

Wishing he could mend the broken parts

All the feelings lost, fragments of his heart

I hope life treats him kind

Make him free of his mind...

Existence- Vyga Nambiar

I am that women,

whose cardigan isn't saggy to host one,

I walk till the edge of the lane sotto voce.

I am that woman,

Who uproots her brows,

Solely to armour her boyfriend's frown,

To an overbearing discontent I'm prone.

I am that progressive woman,

Who endures the final round of cultural fests,

Graded and degraded by male chauvinists,

I manifest penis envy.

I am that one woman,

Who switches sides with being male,

As to not suffer slights.

I am that woman,

Who loathes being robust,

That the man next door has binoculars.

I am that woman,

Whose tears are not tears,

But could fill goblets crimson.

I am that woman,

Who isn't undaunted by Kuki destiny,

I'm sensitive to the atrocities of my race,

And the hearth in my eyes,

Wouldn't testify for a Ram.

I am that woman,

With no ground under my feet,

I even augment the earth I stamp.

I am emboldened by the roller coaster ride!

Shortness of Life | Anita Kongari

When I introspect, I realise that life is short.

I jump up from sleep and peep within to meet the one who loves me eternally.

Both of us whisper words of love.

It fills my heart to the brim to live another day joyously.

Shortness of life makes me realise to live this day meaningfully.

I forgive the one who hurt me.

I appreciate the goodness in the other and speak words of kindness.

Shortness of life makes me take the road less travelled and leave a legacy of my own.

Someone will find me hidden in the pages of the book and will know that I lived to inspire in some way.

What is anything- AAKASH KHANNA

I asked what this existence is,

And my green towel that hung on the hook

became a stranger

it was not my towel anymore

what is a towel existentially, what are these other things? I looked around

All things around me had become not familiar now

Very new, more than new

as if I had seen them for the first time

as if I had just come into existence

as if I had never known about existence before

I stepped out of my bathroom in the towel

as water droplets continued to slide down from the hair

Clothes, which I had put out to wear, had now become only fabric

What is fabric anyways I thought

Instead of the usual wearing of the clothes,

I stepped outside in the balcony

everything had become an existential question:

the green plants that had been growing well

the grey weather that had been drizzling for a while now

the yellow fire beneath the shelter that a man at a distance took warmth in

the invisible breeze that touched my bare chest

the etheric sky above the clouds

What are these? I cried.

I came back inside my room

dropped the towel down to wear the fabric when

I noticed my hands. What are these? How do they exist?

Branching out into ten that are called fingers and thumbs

very similar to the part that is called the feet

At a very slow pace, I curiously scanned my entire body

the knees, the thighs, the buttocks,

the penis, the testicles, the belly, the arms, then

I became aware of the eyes, the nose, the ears, and the mouth

then came the muscles and the bone structure part

further, all the organs one by one

What is this all, I thought.

I came in the hall where my family was

four people, my father, mother, sister, and her husband

Who are they? Who created our shared relationships?

Slowly, the feeling of attachment towards them dissolved within my mind

we had sat down for breakfast and I questioned again

What is food existentially? And as I took four pieces of sliced bread,

I asked the same question for numbers, then for words and alphabets

the same alphabets that had created words for the philosophies I used to have for my life

but now they had become philosophies of the so far

Love which has no reason is the purest

I would say

but now I ask

what is love existentially?

why is there something like love in the first place? And,

where did it come from?

Dream which has no reason is our true calling

I would say

but now I ask

what is calling existentially?

why is there a calling in the first place? And,

where did it come from?

What is life but the present moment in motion

I would say

but not anymore

There was no philosophy left to live my life by, absolutely none

what is philosophy but an approach carved out of thoughts, I thought

and then one thought led to another and a question which felt destined

to arrive, finally arrived. It felt as if each thought only led me

to this question: what is a thought?

Further, what is mind where a thought arrives

I wondered for quite a while and,

at a steady pace, all thoughts had begun to calm down

and the mind journeyed towards thoughtless beingness

I had become desireless

And with no desire, I had become purely content within myself

it was good

But well, then again, just like any other thing in existence,

what is being content anyways

अकवी- Diksha Lingayat

मी अकल , अकवी ;

अकस्मात पसरली शाई ,

अकार्पण्य तुझे हे !

मी अकाळ ,

अकाळवणी धारा ;

अकूपारासमान तुझी ओंजळ ही !

मी अकृतकाल ,

अकालज दुःख ;

तू अकृत्रिम असा अमृतकाल !

मी अक्लेश ,

अखंडित वियोगाचा ;

तुझे अकट ते अउले !

- दिक्षा

Hiraeth | Soumya Sarita Kar

I intensely yearn

For going back home

Like the school going child waiting

For the last bell to ring.

That summer

Heat wave wasn’t more tormenting;

Tears felt prickly rather- so was

The fire on daddy’s pyre.

It prickled my heart so much so that

Blood turned into tears but

Held back at the choked throat.

With him, all I held closed to my heart

Turned into ashes- burning always;

The house became lifeless;

Hopes turned into heaves and

Dreams took the shape of despair.

His empty chair created a ghostly void

That even after four summers

I feel it ruthlessly after me.

It echoes in the entire house and so does

In my heart, my soul, my entire being.

I rush home- at a distant past

But it’s unreachable every time.

My home- at a distant past holds

Innumerable memories;

I rush Home

To find the old me and all that

Held the essence of HOME, but in vain.

For, the void has taken its place.

My home calls me in.

My heart longs for the same

But home isn’t home anymore!

And, hopes turn into heaves,

Dreams despair.

Sentiments on behalf of an old dog | Muskan Chawla

Hello Hoomans,

I know I'm getting old,

I want to play with u,but my body doesn't allow me

I want to run after u to lick ur face when u reach home, but my legs hurt

I want to enjoy all foodies with u, but I struggle to eat

I want to be with u whole day, but my body hurts

My soul is active,but body is not that active

I Love u like before,but body doesn't allow to reveal my sentiments.

So, Don't leave me alone

Help me to walk,

Come nd meet me once u reach home,

You are my everything, I love u

Litany | Abhinav Shukla

Epigraph: "il n'y a pas de hors-texte"

- Jacques Derrida

Poem:

While we slept, the city crawled out of the night and became itself again; a drunkard

stumbling into blind traffic yelled prophecies onto the freeway glare, the newspapers

were all over it like dogtongue and dogteeth chewing and slurping on words hoping

they add up to something. They did add up to something while we slept; the world

and its pus oozing out of the bone in the broad void of midnight. A flick of the tongue,

a purse of the lips, parentheses on the run. Shadow after shadow on the brickwall,

the firewood guzzling scriptures down its throat, the night brimming with prophets

of protrusions. While we slept we were beautiful. Our twisted limbs and closed eyes

nudging closer (to God) than we have ever been, your name was a prayer and I

murmured it all night in a nightmare made up of all the times I told you I hate you.

A word travelled to the edge and fell right off the throat of the earth. Truth was

a portrait of asphalt dotted with potholes and pigeon carcass leading nowhere,

and the world I knew from when I was a child, grieved like a child lost in a metropolis

it knows nothing about; tears curled on the inside of their eye, the scleras of the world

crisp like a corpse, temples and mosques lined with logic in bad faith, slogans

like a wound beating on the ear, all in funeral for the word. While we slept, a metaphor outlived itself, so it became a cliche. Moonlight lovers were singing to each other

the sonnets of how we're beautiful because we're made of stardust when a loner

across the street screamed, "so was Hitler". Why do we do the things we do?

The world pondered while we slept. From Plato to Wittgenstein in a roundtable

conference, nitpicking on the grammar of things thread by thread, until someone sobbed, ‘my mother deserved more than just motherhood, she said

she’ll live for herself in the next life. Ergo, there has to be a next life’.

While we slept the world wept. Our mothers' scalps weaker by the night,

mehendi settling in the water by the window in moonlight. You were

in another country, and I kept the tab on letters we wrote to each other.

Their syntax of stumble and choke, of rush and drag through the sentences

hurling through the page clinging to the word love, and the leak in the cellar

while we slept, drip by drip into the night, syllables of dew bleeding

on swollen mahogany, our pages a drowned destiny of mash, the ink an act

of deliberate drag and time a haunt that was everywhere like a knot in the throat,

and yet we were timeless while we slept. So while we slept, the beginning was the end,

stumbling on pavements of the potholed boulevards, the earth was a drunkard's dream,

and he almost came clean but for his tied tongue and hollowed teeth, all he could

manage was a worn-out chuckle.

Dedication:

For T

Akhand Bharat-Shanin Bhansali

Our forefathers berthed a country.

Based on the liberation of all

from the imperialistic leashes,

that subjugated us like dogs.

Homogeneity seemed farce to them

Cultural singularity was deemed to drive us sparse

for in diversity we remain indomitable

perfervid to our cause?

Bathing in our systems of culture

nursing our minds,

we erected a bust

whose future is not prescribed.

This bust sculpted during our ardent times,

shows sings of aging

for its maintenance is not proportionate to time.

Existing scourge seep into its crevices

slackening its just might

driven with the goal of disassembling its foundation

for it’s mere presence freighted them with anger.

Shackled by the chains of their history,

they shall bring no boom, other than that of destruction.

The liberated are guilty of a fallacy

The fallacy of deduction.

For them old is literally gold,

the past is rolled up into a cigarette-

but never smoked.

Snapping match-sticks off it’s box,

they defused it’s cause.

For now the means of fire remains in our hearts.

The flint of our tongue,

activates without our wits being sung:

not afraid of handling cow dung.

It projects forth

a wave of tunes

which soon alludes the frequency of thought

some-times off

but more accurate,

than the antennas of a house.

The cause in these terms lead to:

Religious strife

female infanticide

and periodical rapes in the countryside.

But with all said and done,

the land of faith:

will burn the stake-

that missed it’s heart.

They | Kavya Nirman

They made me think so small,

Told me my dreams were too tall.

Subjected to different views,

They told me, mine to redo.

Independence not a trait of girls,

Night outs for twisted stuff.

I indigested them then,

They cut my wings when?

I believed every word they said,

Participated in my suffering.

So helpless and afraid I felt,

“Nowhere to go”, thus sensed.

Told me girls are to marry,

Do whatever you want with your hubby.

I went along the safe path,

Suffocating along the way.

Then I grew tired of these narratives,

Never wanted to believe this stuff anyway.

Now to seize opportunities,

To leave this bondage.

Realized they did not cut my wings,

Just told me I couldn’t fly.

My wings called me out,

Every night.