कुछ अलग | Rajesh Rawat

चलो कुछ अलग करते हैं आज,

तुम पूजा करो और मैं पढूँ नमाज़ ।

मैं याद करूँ, मंदिर में अल्लाह को,

तुम मस्जिद में भगवान को ।

तुम घर ले आओ गीता - रामायण,

मैं ले आऊँ पाक कुरान को ।

तुम लगाओ ‘हरि ओम (ॐ)’ का जयकारा,

मैं ‘अल्लाहु अकबर’ की आवाज ।

चलो कुछ अलग करते हैं आज,

तुम पूजा करो और मैं पढूँ नमाज़ ।

रेती, सिमेन्ट, ईंट और पत्थर,

हर मंदिर - मस्जिद में समान है ।

इबादत करने वाले भी तो,

दोनो ही, जगह पर इंसान है ।

फिर ऊपरवाले में, कैसा ये भेद ?

जब ‘सबका मालिक है केवल एक’ ।

पुकारो उसे किसी भी रूप में,

उसके तो हैं हजारों नाम ।

कोई उसे कहता है ‘रहीम’,

तो कोई उसे कहता है ‘राम’ ।

आखिर क्या फर्क पड़ता है इससे,

सिर किसके आगे झुकता है ?

जब मालूम है अच्छा फल तो,

अच्छे कर्मों से मिलता है ।

आपस में बढ़ाकर भाईचारा,

आओ बनाए, एक नया समाज ।

एक बार अपनाकर देखें,

सजदा करने का, यह नया अंदाज ।

चलो कुछ अलग करते हैं आज,

तुम पूजा करो और मैं पढूँ नमाज़ ।

ನೆಲ ದೇವತೆ ಮಾತು- Gowthami M

ನೆಲ ದೇವತೆ ಮಾತು.

ನಾನೆಂದೂ ಗುಡಿ ಗೋಪುರಗಳ ಹಂದರ ಕೇಳಲಿಲ್ಲ.

ನಾನೆಂದೂ ಕುರಿಮರಿ, ಕೋಳಿಗಳ ಬಲಿ ಬೇಡಲಿಲ್ಲ.

ನಾನೆಂದೂ ಆಭರಣಗಳ ಉತ್ಸವ ಮೂರ್ತಿ ಬೇಕೆನ್ನಲಿಲ್ಲ.

ನಾನೆಂದೂ ಪಲ್ಲಕ್ಕಿ ಮೆರವಣಿಗೆ ಮಾಡೆನ್ನಲಿಲ್ಲ.

ನನ್ನನು ನಾಲ್ಕು ಗೋಡೆಗಳ‌ ಗೋಪುರದಲ್ಲಿ ,

ಉಸಿರು ಕಟ್ಟಿಸುವ ಧೂಪದ ಮಧ್ಯೆ ಸಿಲುಕಿಸಿ,

ರಕ್ತದ ಹೊಳೆ ಹರಿಸಿ,

ನನ್ನನ್ನು ಅಪರಾಧಿ ಭಾವ ಕಾಡುವಂತೆ ಮಾಡಿದಿರಿ.

ಯಾರಿಗಾಗಿ ಇವೆಲ್ಲ? ನನಗಾಗಿಯೇ ,ನಿಮಗಾಗಿಯೇ?.

ನಾನು ಬಸವಣ್ಣನ ಕಾಯಕದಲ್ಲಿದ್ದೆನೆ.

ಅಕ್ಕಮಹಾದೇವಿಯ ಧೃಡ ಭಕ್ತಿಯಲ್ಲಿದ್ದೆನೆ‌.

ಭಕ್ತಿಯಿಂದ ನೆನೆಯುವವರ ಮನದಲ್ಲಿದ್ದೆನೆ.

ಅಂಧಕಾರದ ಕ್ರೌರ್ಯ ತೊಲಗಿಸುವ ದಿವ್ಯ

ಜ್ಯೋತಿಯಲ್ಲಿದ್ದೆನೆ.

ಹೆಣ್ಣನ್ನು ಪೂಜಿಸುವ ಸ್ಥಳದಲ್ಲಿದ್ದೆನೆ.

ನಾ ಇಲ್ಲದ ಕಡೆ ನೀವೇಕೆ ಹುಡುಕುವಿರಿ?

ನಾ ಸ್ಪರ್ಶಿಸಲಾಗದ ಸರ್ವಾಂತರರ್ಯಾಮಿ .

ನನ್ನನು ಕಂಡರೆ ಎಲ್ಲರಿಗೂ ಎಲ್ಲಿಲ್ಲದ ಭಕ್ತಿ ಭಾವ .

ಆದರೆ ನನ್ನ ನೆಲದ ಹೆಣ್ಣು ಮಕ್ಕಳ ಮೇಲೆ

ಯಾಕೆ ಶೋಷಣೆಯ ಕಿಡಿ??.

ಸೃಷ್ಟಿಯ ಮೂಲ ಆಧಿಶಕ್ತಿಯು ನಾನೇ,

ಜ್ಞಾನದಿಂದ ಮುನ್ನಡೆಸುವ ಸರಸ್ವತಿಯು ನಾನೇ,

ಸಂಪತ್ತು ನೀಡಿ, ಸನ್ನ್ಮಾರ್ಗದಲ್ಲಿ ನಡೆಸುವ ಲಕ್ಷ್ಮಿಯು ನಾನೇ,

ಸೃಷ್ಟಿಯ ವಿನಾಶ ಮಾಡುವ ಕಾಳಿಯು ನಾನೇ,

ನಾನೇ ಆಧಿ, ನಾನೇ ಅಂತ್ಯ,ಸಕಲವು ನಾನೇ.

ನನಗೂ ಈ ನೆಲದ ಹೆಣ್ಣು ಮಕ್ಕಳಿಗೂ

ಇರುವ ವ್ಯತ್ಯಾಸವಾದರು ಏನು?

ನಾ ಕಾಣದಿದ್ದರೂ ಸರ್ವಂತಾರಯಾರ್ಮಿ.

ಅವರು ಕಾಣುವ ಸರ್ವಶಕ್ತೆ ಯರು.

ಸೃಷ್ಟಿಯ ಪ್ರತಿರೂಪ ಈ ನೆಲದ ಹೆಣ್ಣು.

This Thirtieth Day | Fengkha Daimary

Through lone night I wait, till I wave at the first rays of this thirtieth day.

I trace my footsteps in garden of vines—

Years of mine are bright hued flowers bleached with salt water;

Black summer and white winter.

A sinner with April of colours and October of warmth, I have left these behind.

Heavy is the air interspersed with rust-

A jagged little knife of hopes and fears

Glistening weak in the heat of august.

Whispers to etch my battle scars and broken heart

And turn this green-born and green souled red with blood-

Splintered woods and shards bring me to the ground.

I am the multitude and the multitude is me.

Free as much as I think I am I search for a place to call home.

Spent a lifetime alone and the older I get the more I am afraid—

Fear, the occasional surprise that rocks my boat; time, the wind on my sails—

The shore’s out of sight, I spread my arms open wide—

Let me drown in this black summer rain.

The dimming sun heralds the twilight—

It greets me like a long lost friend— but in the pieces of my heart, it is the lover I wait for.

But this thirtieth day sees no twilight; perhaps the battle’s long and weary

And if Death comes, the stars and the moon shall tell my story to you, the lover I long for.

So this thirtieth day I leave no blood, no trace, no pain, no blues. No me.

Times where words no longer matter the dark of silence embraces me.

For this thirtieth day I leave no words

So I may rest in the arms of the lover I love.

In your silent mouth may I learn to find peace,

Lest Death comes early and my universe slides away from the lover I wait

Returning without the armour

The Northern Star guiding you, the lover who can never be mine,

To me where I lay to rest.

Theja AP

The path can't be travelled alone

It requires a companion

to get into the essence of it

Eyes unknowingly loiter for one

The pinned among the many…

We trek the wild ways

paving paths in pace with

the feelings of the interior

repelling the established roads…

One day, I found him dead

I felt a short of breath

Assumed he's breathing,

But burst into the realization

His body was frozen

I don't want to give it

to the scavenging vultures

so I buried him in the

area of my home

with many unnamed rooms.

His graveyard is my dear room

He left a note

which marked his fear to

abide paving the wild paths

Thoughts of sliding to the

established in the 'morrow…

I stood frozen in the room

with an inner push to endure

But the path can't be travelled alone…

It requires a companion with whom

my eyes unknowingly wander…

I stood frozen with a

brimming desire to endure…

Committed suicide

the choice left in front

of the brimming flow

leaving a blurred note.

The Scars | Sneha Chatterjee

She thought the door of felicity got opened...

With all the hopes and brilliance of a new marriage!!!

The butterfly of passion roamed all over...

And the instinct fervour wandered like a fever,,

The delirium of the first night was at the peak...

She didn't know that it would come out as a bleak!!

The monster in disguise arrived with a lot of sensuality..

And this was the end of her harlequin visuality...

Facing the mirror in the morning,she couldn't recognise her face...

With all the scars and sores that she embraced!!

The spectre of misery started to gather...

And the dreams of togetherness became jiggered!!!

The society took it as a normal scene..

But the jaded girl knew that it was beyond extreme!!!

Being stranded like the waves of despair,she looked outside...

The perfervid sunbeam began to subside!!!

समानता- Jyoti Lakhera

This is an ode to the inner voice of every woman, which I humbly tried to condense into words..

"समानता" she deserves to be an equal if not more!

मैं हूं , बस मुझे मैं ही आंको

ना दो मुझको कोई पदवी आसमानी

मैं मैं हूं मुझे मैं से ही जानो

ना इसकी ना उसकी मैं मेरी कहानी

कहानी का लेखन शीर्षक भी मैं ही

मेरा निर्णय जो भी, हो मेरी ज़ुबानी

मैं मैं हूं मुझे मैं ही रहने दो बस तुम

ना मांगू संरक्षण ना प्रतिपालन की मारी

मुझ में सारी शक्ति मुझी से है शक्ति

मैं ही शक्ति की मानव झलक अवतारी

बस इतना है क्रोध, इतना सा अनुरोध

मैं नहीं हूं किसी रक्षण की व्याकुल

मैं खाली नहीं हूं पड़ी संपत्ति

की हो जाए कोई लाभ जिससे तुम्हारा

यू तो मैं हूं हर आंकलन में ही बेहतर

पर इतना करो कि समझ लो बराबर

बस उतनी ही इज्जत उतनी सी ही ज़रूरत

मनुष्य ही समझो करो इतनी ज़हमत

मैं मैं हूं ,बस मुझे मैं ही आँको

क्रोध अनुरोध याचिका जो भी मानो!

~ ज्योति लखेरा

If I was a bird | Siddhi Ranade

If I was a sparrow,

I would cheer up every garden

With my chirp and laughter,

Scattering joy all around.

If I was a parrot,

I would recite something wonderful

My charm would appeal to the people of every age,

But then, I would be caged.

If I was a snowy owl,

I would be cute and delightful.

May be some mystic energy surrounding me,

And eyes big and beautiful.

If I was an eagle,

I would take a brave leap above the clouds

Fly at a very high altitude

And enjoy solitude.

If I was a dove,

I would spread peace and love.

Go cooing in beautiful yards

And flap my wings to my heart's content.

And if I was a phoenix

Devoured everytime by a different pyre,

Would rise from the flames with feathers of gold

And eyes full of fire.

ढलता सूरज - Anuj Poonia

शाम का ढलता सूरज बोला , कल फिर आऊंगा

जो वादे किए है , खुद से तुमने

उन्हें करोगे पूरा, या नहीं

ये देखने आऊंगा

हर रोज जो कल पे टाल देते हो जीना

हर रोज जो कल पे टाल देते हो जीना

कल जीओगे , या नहीं

ये देखने आऊंगा

जिन्हें शुकून है मिलता तुमसे

उन्हें गैरों से करीब बताओगे , या नहीं

ये देखने आऊंगा

मालूम होता है कुछ चाहते हो

वो मिला , या नहीं

ये देखने आऊंगा

शाम का ढलता सूरज बोला , कल फिर आऊंगा

तुम जिसे , ना जान सके

उसे कल जानोगे , या नहीं

तुम्हारे आयने से , पूछ जाऊंगा

शाम का ढलता सूरज बोला , कल फिर आऊंगा

शाम का ढलता सूरज बोला , कल फिर आऊंगा

ಗೋಚರ | Divya Viswanath

ಮುಗಿಲತ್ತ ದಿಟ್ಟಿಸುತ್ತಾ,

ಗಾಳಿಯೊಂದಿಗೆ ನನ್ನ ನಿಟ್ಟುಸಿರು ಬೆರೆತು ಹೋಗುವುದ ನೋಡುತ್ತಾ ,

ನೆನಪುಗಳ ಗುಡ್ಡೆ ಕೆದರಿ ಒಮ್ಮೆಲೇ ಎಲ್ಲ ಮೆಲುಕು ಹಾಕಿದಾಗ ...

ಮೊದಲು ಎದುರಾಗಿದ್ದು,

ಬಾಲ್ಯದ ಬಾಲಿಶ ದಿನಗಳು,

ಮುಗ್ಧ ಸ್ವಪ್ನಗಳು,

ಮುಕ್ತ ಹಾಸ

ಏಳು ಬೀಳು

ಮುಗುಳ್ನಗುತ್ತಲೇ ಅಂಗೈ ಒದರಿ ಏಳಲು ಮಾಡಿದ ಪ್ರಯಾಸ..

ಮತ್ತೆ ರಾಚಿದ್ದು,

ವಯಸ್ಸಿನ ಜೊತೆಗೆ ಬೆಳದು ಆವರಿಸಿದ ಆಕಾಂಕ್ಷೆ,

ಆಚಾರ ವಿಚಾರಗಳ ಹೊಸಿಲು ದಾಟಲೋ ಬೇಡವವೋಯೆನುವ,

ದ್ವಂದಲ್ಲಿ ಆಡಿದ ಜೀವನದ ಕುಂಟೆ ಬಿಲ್ಲೆ.

ಗಗನವೇ ಚೀರಿ ಬಿಡುವೆ ಯೆನುವ ಉತ್ಸಾಹದ ಕಿಚ್ಚು

ಆಗಲೇ ಹತ್ತದ್ದು ಬರೆಯುವ ಹುಚ್ಚು.

ಪದಗಳ ನಡುವೆ ನನ್ನ ಕಣ್ಣ ಮುಚ್ಚಾಲೆ,

ಭಾವನೆಗಳ ಚೌಕಿಟ್ಟಿನಲ್ಲಿ ಆಡಿದ ಚೌಕ ಬಾರಾ.

ಇದ ,ನೆನೆಯುತ್ತಲೇ,

ಇಂದು ಕೈಜಾರಿದ ಅನುಭೂತಿ,

ಉಳಿದಿದ್ದ ಚೂರನ್ನು ಬಾಚಲು ಮಾಡಿದ ಮುಷ್ಟಿ

ನಾಳೆಂಬ ಹಂಬಲ,

ಗುರಿ ತಲಪುವ ಛಲ,

ಮಧ್ಯೆ ನುಸುಳಿ ಮುಸುಕು ಹಾಕಿದ ಆಲಸ್ಯ,

ಮಂಕು ಕವಿದು ಹಿಡಿದ ಜಾಡ್ಯ

ಅದರೊಡನೆಯೇ ಮೈಲಿಗಲ್ಲು ದಾಟುತ್ತ

ಕುಂಟುತ್ತ ಎಡುವುತ್ತ ಎಗುರುತ್ತ ಚಿಮ್ಮುತ್ತ

ನಲಿವು ಗೆಲವು,ನೋವು ,ಸೋಲುಗಳ ಸಾಕ್ಷಾತ್ಕಾರ.

From The Eyes Of A War Victim- Yasha Siddiqui

Dark clouds beneath eyes,

Dark clouds in the sky.

Not an explicit difference.

The weapons replaced trees,

Both with a hue of green.

One burgeons life,

The other prunes it - dead.

When you slept on rose beds,

We had beds with serrated swords.

How come we resided the same planet,

Yet lived in different worlds.

They egged us on to leave our homeland,

But it was not as punitive,

As when our homeland left us,

Due to the berserk bombings - so repititive.

I am a victim of death,

I lost my breath,

As my home had an uninvited guest.

How could our weeps be comprehended?

How could our wails be heard from afar?

When the language they understood,

Was of war.

Only war.

Smiling Through the Sky | Karthik Gopinathan

As a young boy, I asked her

What is that so big and bright?

It's the Sun, said she

Will you grow to be like one?

Beautiful and unconditional

Yes, I promised

in glee and excitement

Holding her hand

I started to chase the Sun, to be like one

Felt like a bird

as I sailed through the sky

having her by my side

Angel she was, protected me from the

gushing winds and voracious ravens

Suddenly to realize

I was left alone to chart my way forward

Mysteries of nature unraveling chaos

Unswerving and unforgiving

for reasons unknown

Sheeting rain

Fearful and perplexing

Sadness clasping all over

Lost in the dark

like a Rudderless boat

straying in all directions

Traveling far and wide

in search of light

in search of hope

Comes out the sun

and the darkness fades

emerges a rainbow

bright and beautiful

her hand of god

held me tight

not to get lost again

Blessed with her love

and seeing her smile through the sky

I started to chase the sun, to be like one

Owe her all

I owe her all

and I call her "Eternal"

My Mother, My Love

THE KITCHEN- Prajatna Kotoky

THE KITCHEN

There is a redolent aroma

wafting past a termite infested mound

we still call it a door-

as I wonder what brews inside the pressure cooker,

(we have three of those, three sizes yes

and in three colours too)

a loud rattle invites my long nose in.

Hence, heralding my arrival.

I see a man I call Deuta

in his lane, marinating a Rohu, or a Boriyola or a Puthi

and perhaps a Jayanta Hazarika dangling on his lips.

Beside him, there stands a little woman

in a warm housecoat and eyes poised on the milk

about to overflow through the stained steel of a pan.

And while Maa calls out my nickname

prefixed with an adorable “Ow”,

I'm there, with all 32 on a display,

eyes glued to a big bowl of “ghugni”

and brain at a round table conference

strategizing my way to the lion's share.

I'm beware of my beloved enemy,

sword is on the go, sister dearie!

I have been through this door

past so many lives I've lived

at suppers and at dinners

at hurried breakfasts and relaxed lunches.

There's always Maa, or perhaps Deuta,

or a dear dear sister

or these homes altogether;

filling in my bell metalled plate,

never letting my dal bowl die.

Perhaps sitting beside to digest my half cooked tales

or my recipe to get stuck in a library gate in front of some wretched crowd,

reminding me to be careful with the fishbones.

They might yawn, but i would relentlessly continue

until I'm satiated, with happiness and with love.

The population fluctuates,

and I do know a deduction is inevitable.

Still I breathe in now, and let the kitchen towels stain.

Not in sorrow, but at ease.

The sink has hues to its fate.

One day it digests anger,

the other day, pecks of pure bliss.

But sure its plumbing is long accustomed

to everything mixed with an uncompromised affection.

The starch of the new variety of rice

or the inedible Bhindis from the garden downstairs, the saltless curry or the overcooked dal-

every and anything from the busy cookery.

Our kitchen is a large place

for we fight a lot, a war ensued

when everyone's donning the stove.

And it is a place to learn by heart the aromas.

The aromas of ginger garlic paste,

winter ridden sweaters, many a hilarious evenings, hasty treats, and selfish afternoons.

There is a cinematic timespan

like a rajdhani billowing its way to a capital-

of inching closer to the stove and knives

till the two kids too can well own those 3 cookers.

So subtle so painstakingly pleasant,

how the tea table arrangement changed from

two steaming cups of chocolate milk, and two cups of sugared milk tea-

to three cups of sugar free milked tea

and a sugared one, alongside the only constant of a good rusk.

Our years sprinted past the yellow mullioned windows of the kitchen.

While there might be a confusion

about the masterchef to the perfect cup of “saah”,

a winner is declared for most recipes.

And as we leave the nourishing granite counter

to go ahead onto our little business trips

we leave upon it some biscuit bits.

We know we sin, but there's a coming back

So we'll pick up our rebukes, grinning eye to eye,

pretend to never care and go to bed.

Our Pakghor, comes with a history textbook.

Notes:-

Rohu, Boriyola, Puthi- Assamese names of some fish

Deuta- Father in Assamese

Jayanta Hazarika- The Jazz emperor of Assamese music

Saah- Tea

Pakghor- The Assamese kitchen

ਦੁਵੱਲਾ ਇਸ਼ਕ | Deepshikha

ਮੇਰਾ ਅੱਖਾਂ ਨਾਲ ਇਜ਼ਹਾਰ ਕਰਨਾ,

ਤੇਰਾ ਹੱਸ ਕੇ ਹਾਮੀ ਭਰ ਦੇਣਾ।

ਇਸ ਕੁਵੱਲੇ ਇਸ਼ਕ ਨੂੰ,

ਆਪਾਂ ਏਦਾਂ ਹੀ ਸਿੱਧਾ ਕਰ ਲੈਣਾ।

ਮੈਂ ਮਖੌਲ ਮਖੌਲ ਚ ਚੁੱਪ ਚਪੀਤੇ,

ਤੇਰੇ ਪਿੱਛੇ ਆਕੇ ਖਲੋ ਜਾਣਾ,

ਤੇਰਾ ਤਖ਼ਤੀ ਤੇ ਮੇਰਾ ਨਾਂ ਲਿਖ ਕੇ,

ਬੱਸ ਮੈਥੋਂ ਮੈਥੋਂ ਲਕੋ ਲੈਣਾ ।

ਕੋਈ ਕੰਮ ਦਾ ਬਹਾਨਾ ਜੇਹਾ ਕਰਕੇ,

ਤੇਰੇ ਨਾਲ ਕੁਰਸੀ ਆ ਡਾਹ ਬਹਿਣਾ,

ਫਿਰ ਢੂੰਗੀ ਜਿਹੀ ਕੋਈ ਗੱਲ ਛੇੜਕੇ,

ਤੇਰਾ ਲੁੱਕ ਲੁੱਕ ਕੇ ਮੈਨੂੰ ਤੱਕਣਾ।

ਮੈਂ ਸੋਚ ਸਮਝ ਕੇ ਅਣਗਿਹਲੀ ਵਿਚ,

ਤੇਰੇ ਹੱਥ ਤੇ ਹੱਥ ਧਰ ਦੇਣਾ।

ਤੂੰ ਹੈਰਾਨ ਜੇਹਾ ਹੋਕੇ ਹੱਥ ਝਿੜਕਣਾ,

ਪਰ ਕਸਕੇ ਬਾਹ ਫੜ ਲੈਣਾ ।

ਮੇਰੇ ਕੁੱਛ ਬੋਲਣ ਤੋਂ ਪਹਿਲਾਂ,

ਮੇਰੇ ਦਿਲ ਦੀ ਗੱਲ ਪੜ੍ਹ ਲੈਣਾ ।

ਤੇਰਾ ਇਸ਼ਕ ਨੂੰ ਰੱਬ ਮਨਾ ਲੈਣਾ,

ਤੇਰਾ ਦਰਦ ਨੂੰ ਨੇਮਤ ਮੰਨ ਲੈਣਾ।

ਕੋਈ ਫੁੱਲ ਗੁਲਾਬੀ ਸਿਰ ਮੱਥੇ,

ਕਦੀ ਹੀਰਿਆਂ ਨੂੰ ਨਜ਼ਰੀਂ ਲਾਹ ਦੇਣਾ ।

ਤੇਰਾ ਬੋਚ ਬੋਚ ਕੇ ਪੱਬ ਰੱਖਣਾ,

ਅੱਖਾਂ ਨਾਲ ਸ਼ੇਰ ਸੁਣਾ ਦੇਣਾ।

ਦੁਨੀਆ ਸਾਵੇਂ ਲੱਖ ਸਿਆਣਪ,

ਮੇਰੇ ਸਾਹਵੇਂ ਜਵਾਕ ਜੇਹਾ ਹੋ ਜਾਣਾ।

ਮੇਰੇ ਖੱਬੇ ਮੋਢੇ ਨੂੰ ਸਿਰਹਾਣਾ ਰੱਖ ਕੇ,

ਤੇਰਾ ਐਨਕਾਂ ਲਾ ਕੇ ਸੋਂ ਜਾਣਾ।

ਰੱਬ ਦਿੰਦਾ ਹੈ ਸਭਨੂੰ ਰੰਗ ਵੱਖਰਾ,

ਆਪਾਂ ਮਿਲਕੇ ਇਹ ਭੇਦ ਭੁਲਾ ਦੇਣਾ।

ਤੂੰ ਮੇਰੇ ਰੰਗ ਵਿਚ ਰੰਗ ਗਈ ਏ,

ਮੈ ਤੇਰੇ ਰੰਗ ਵਿਚ ਰਹਿ ਜਾਣਾ।

ਮਿੱਟੀ ਦਾ ਦਸਤੂਰ ਜਿਵੇਂ,

ਜਿਧਰ ਦਰਿਆ ਨੇ ਲੈ ਜਾਣਾ।

ਤੂੰ ਮੇਰੀ ਮੰਜ਼ਿਲ ਬਣ ਗਈ ਏ,

ਮੈ ਤੇਰੇ ਰਾਹੇ ਪੈ ਜਾਣਾ ।

Plum Pudding Model of the Atom- Arnav Aggarwal

“Why do you spend all day in bed?”

In about the year 1900,

I would have won this argument

Because William Thomson,

Baron Kelvin of Largs

Ate Christmas pudding

And when the plum stuck

In the sugar bowls of his teeth

Parried with the tobacco dyed

tip of his tongue,

He wondered if an atom

Was like his pudding.

That the positive charge was like

A round of vanilla sponge

And the negative suspended through

Like bits of peel and mince

We know now that our matter

Is more kinetic than dessert.

Electrons must dance or else

But oh that they didn’t!

Then I could lay here

Snowed in by confectioners’ sugar,

Being baked into my blanket

Of enriched dough

By the oven light of the afternoon

Unobligated, by nature, to move

भूल गये है | Atal Kashyap

है हम भुलक्कड

बहुत कुछ

भूल गये है,

लेकर जिदंगी को सीरियस

हंसना भूल गये है,

है खुद के अंदर

छुपा एक बच्चा,

बाहर

उसको लाना भूल गये है,

भायी ऐसी

क्या महानगर की जिदंगी,

गाँव अपने जाने वाले

रास्ते भूल गये है,

हो गयी

पैसे कमाने की चाह इतनी

अब

रिश्ते निभाना भूल गये है,

मचा रखी है

मन में इतनी उथल-पुथल

नींद

रातों की भूल गये है,

जी लेते है

अब किसी के बिन

पूरी जिदंगी,

उसकी याद में

आँसू

बहाना भूल गये है,

हो गये है

रंग बदलने में माहिर,

होकर इंसान

बस

इंसानियत भूल गए है।

Fast Recall The Past | Preethi Ganesh

The bestest days are nineteen ninety’s [1990] ,

Having happy memories in plenty’s .

Walking with Walkman those days are trendy,

Though the pockets were always empty.

Watching tv with our family makes us happy ,

Taking single picture in still camera is a luxury,

Sakthi man is our favourite hero entry ,

Eating bubblegum, making bubbles are hobby ,

Getting one call from landline gives merry,

Having a video game cassette we feel bossy ,

Creating longest snake in Nokia is a real victory,

Super Mario reaching its princess is a love story

Getting our favourite book in library is trophy ,

Making projects with word art is a real ability,

School teachers and homework’s seems scary ,

Only Festivals & birthdays had new dress party,

Eating cakes only on birthday feels so yummy,

Playing games in ground is a stress free remedy,

Jelly and diary milk made our mouth watery ,

To find a word , dictionary is our only trusty,

Separating from friends after college is shaky,

Slam books hold all the memories that are silly ,

Writing letters to dear made a lasting memory,

Those days love took over lust responsibly,

Cricket players and pop singers had army ,

Ice colas and kulfis were quenching when thirsty,

Picking favourite colour gems feels like robbery,

Due to lack of technology, we valued family ,

Losing those days fills tears in the eyes badly ,

With limited resources our lives were shiny ,

Never those golden days come again truly ,

Let’s cherish those memories together fondly,

Making generations know about us thoroughly,

So that they don’t live their precious life abruptly,

Rather be like us living the moment lively .

I, his conscience | Sambuddha Guha

At the beginning he was a dilettante

He learnt everything from his parents

The society and books contributed some

Gradually, I flourished within him.

Gingerly he grew up

But with time I became stagnant

The world around him seemed different

Different from what he learnt.

He graduated, he got a job and started making compromises

Now I'm not stagnant , decaying day by day

Things he learnt seemed meaningless

And I? just a lesson meant to be ignored.

Time has come when he is counting his days

All kinds of efforts to earn seemed absurd

Self evaluation crept in and regrets piled up

And I was at the pinnacle.

He cursed his fate and circumstances he faced

I gazed intently into his past

And found myself in one corner asking to negotiate

But I stood tall at last.

Misfit- Tanmai Takkars

Ever felt like a misfit?

Everything twisted?

Memories alter like seasons

Yet,precious like a carcanet

Felt pell-mell?but hidden like colors

At heims on a forswear night.

And yet everyone has been there

Been deserted and agitated to go out,

In the blooming flower bed.

To relume is appalling,nevertheless

Every season is charming and

Every transmute can be a rapture

Wherefore to particoat when everyone has been there?

Visions of Pragma | Yuktimmana Bandopadhyay

I want you to infinitely immerse me

In the softness of your fresh laundry

In the embrace of magical monotony

In the warmth of a priceless memory.

And when I finally fall asleep at dawn

Play me your mind's lovely cacophony

I want your riverine hands in my hair

And for you to bathe me in hope.

Who cares about the morning after

When untying our knots is all we'll do

In this silence that chants our names

While I take off all the masks I wear.

Drunk on love strewn across the lawn

Right here

Right now

I want to watch the fireflies with you.

A shade of love called Greed- Raveena Divya

“A shade of love called Greed”

An ounce of love, he craved with a chuckle,

My greed was capacious with a mickle..

A pragmatic ooze of romance, he would trickle,

Cascade of my allure down his spine ,he could not tackle..

Terms of endearment hinged on his capricious fickle,

Flustered and annihilated, in liaison with his shackle..

A yearn for passion, mewled my heart on the verge of ramshackle,

He guffawed at the vacuous tenderly devotion with a cackle..

LadyNoahRR