Love Drop | Vandana Nagar

One cold morning

a soft breeze blew

It swayed the blossoms

drenched in dew.

One little dew drop

peeped in through

and saw a maiden

soaked in dreams.

The breeze did see

the dew drop drunk;

drunk in love

of the charming maid.

The soft breeze blew

a bit too strong

and hurled the dew drop

on her throne.

He landed on her silken lips.

Her dreamy face

he gaped and gazed;

her beauty left him

all amazed!

The sunrays slowly

poured in through;

the blossoms recalled

the dazzled dew.

“Come back dew

to the blossoms new.

It takes resolve;

it takes a heart

to win a woman’s heart”,

they said.

The dew played deaf

to all their cries

until the maiden

opened her eyes.

She bent over slow

to the blossoms new;

heedless of the drop of dew!

The dew drop would not give up soon

he fixed in firm to endure the sun.

The sun did shine and tried his best;

could not defeat the dew drop's zest!

Along the sun the wind too blew;

it caused her hair to curl and frizz.

Her hair did slit the drop of dew;

the dew drop stretched on her silken lips

yet, held on to his sinless wish!

At last, the maiden felt the dew

she curled in gently her silken lips

and embraced the dew drop stretched in there.

The joyful heavens showered in praise

for the triumph of the dew drop's love!

Nostalgia- Parinita Bisht

Endless nights and days, I have fought for this

Given years and tears, sweat and blood

Ma, I'm finally here

and yet

All I want is to feel your embrace

Curl up in your corner of the Milky Way

I gaze out in the glassy morning dew

Almost smell that tea you drink

Hear the words you sing

Feel your hand bursh through my hair

As my head rests in your lap

I knew I would leave

(you, Pa, Home)

Oh, but I didn't, not really

Only knew when, crept up in me

A melancholy, like the scribbled notes

at the margins of a novel

tearing you out of your fantasy

Grounding you in reality

you are not the written warrior

but the yearning reader

No longer I stood

in the pedagogical grounds

I had dreamt of nights before

now, this was only the place

where my spirit subsit

Without your glow and smiling faces

I count now, all my memories

Good and bad, happy and sad

count them greedily and tuck them close

Visit them when Nostalgia grows

Kisses, lessons, all your words

Rediscovered now, when scarcely heard

वो एक लम्हा | Akhilesh Sharma

कभी तो उम्र गुज़र जाती है, बस चंद लम्हों की तलाश में,

कभी तो यूँ कि एक लम्हे में, सारी ज़िन्दगी सिमट जाती है,

पहले पहल जब नज़र आया था,

दूर उफ़ुक़ पर सुब्ह-ए-आफ़ताब,

पहले पहल जब देखे थे हमने,

रात के साए में अंजुम-ओ-माहताब,

ये उजाले अब शायद वैसे नहीं हैं ,

ये चांद भी शायद वैसा नहीं है,

वो शब जो कट जाया करती थी,

तिरी साँसों की रग़बत में,

ये रात जो गुज़रती ही नहीं,

अब इन गूँजते सन्नाटों में

लेकिन यहां तेरे बगैर भी,

कुछ लम्हे मेरे अपने हैं,

दर्द की सियाही में लिथडे हुए,

कुछ सपने मेरे अपने हैं,

हाँ, कभी कभी तुम्हारी याद,

आज भी लौट कर आती है,

वो कभी कभी सूकून का,

इक लम्हा छोड़ चली जाती है

मगर सच तो ये है जाने-जाहां,

तेरी आशनाई के दिन गुज़र चले हैं,

तेरी उलफ़त के तमाम साये,

मेरी ज़िंदाँ से उड़ चले हैं,

अब तो ज़हन में अजब तसव्वुरात आते हैं,

कुछ टूटे हुए ख़्वाब फिर से नज़र आते हैं,

कुछ तो परवरिश-ए-लौह-ओ-क़लम हो जाते हैं,

कुछ शायद ज़हन में कहीं खो कर मर जाते हैं,

इक-इक लम्हा जैसे सियाही मैं कैद होने चला हो,

इक-इक लम्हा जैसे वो खुद ही अब जीने लगा हो,

क्या एक लम्हा कभी ज़िंदगी से ज्यादा जीता है?

क्या ज़िंदगी बस एक लम्हे भर में गुज़र सकती है?

हम लोग इसी कलम से लम्हों को ज़िंदा रखते हैं,

हम लोग इन्हीं सवालों में वो एक लम्हा ढूंढते हैं,

कि शायद उस लम्हे में कहीं एक नया कोई ख़्वाब मिले,

कि शायद उस लम्हे में कहीं अपने होने का जवाब मिले,

शायद इसी लम्हे की तलाश का नाम है ज़िन्दगी,

शायद वही एक लम्हा भर के लिए जिए जाते हूँ।।

Be Thankful- Senthil George

Tired from the work, I opened my Insta.

One by one, happy moments posted by my friends were flashing into my eyes.

The further I scroll down, deeper the red-hot knife of depression penetrates into my heart.

I came to relieve the stress, but now I hit a jackpot of it.

I closed Insta, kept my phone aside, reclined my chair back and slide myself down a bit where my eyes can directly gaze at the ceiling.

Rest all thoughts got silenced in the ocean of my mind, one big question, stands like a wall there - Where did I go wrong?

Our lives were so much similar, same school, same college, same class, so where I lost the way?

Which is this road not taken, I took, leading me to failure.

Two days passed by, opened Insta again, not willingly but habitually.

Peeked into the profile of a beautiful girl, I once knew.

How can I describe, what I saw – more food pictures than any menu, more restaurants than Zomato, more places than MakeMyTrip can offer.

Oh God- this is called Living the life, mine is “existence”.

One of the seven deadly sins – jealousy, was getting the better of me, I wished, I could be her.

In a mere moment, the entire scenario shifted, catching me off guard and leaving me in disbelief.

Series of posts where she shared - her grief, her trauma, her pain about the skin disease she got which ripped the beauty out of her exquisite skin.

A while ago, I wished I could be her but now I empathize with her and that tells me behind every smile on Insta, there lies hidden stories and emotions.

Her life, imparted a priceless lesson, a wisdom I will hold until my last breath.

In life, don’t regret, what you wanted and never had but – Be thankful, of what you never wanted and never had.

माता - पिता "मेरा जहान" | Saket Maheshwari

थामे हाथ..हमेशा साथ..

तुमने ही चलना सिखाया..

हुई कोई भी तकलीफ..

तुमने ही लङना सिखाया..

आए जब भी आंखों में आँसू..

तुमने ही हँसना सिखाया..

गलतियां हुई जब भी हमसे..

तुमने उसे सुधारना सिखाया..

जब कभी गिर पङे हम..

तुमने ही संभलना सिखाया..

जब भी भूले राह हम..

सही दिशा तुमने दिखाया..

चाहतें जो भी थी..

तुमने पूरी की हमारी..

रातों को जब नींद नहीं आई..

गोद में तुमने सुलाया..

जब हुए हम खुद से नाराज..

विश्वास करना तुमने सिखाया..

मज़ाक बनाया जब किसी ने..

जवाब देना तुमने सिखाया..

जब रिश्तों को समझ ना पाए हम..

उसे संभालना तुमने सिखाया..

जब मन हुआ उदास..

चीयर्स करना तुमने सिखाया..

जब डर से हुआ रूबरू..

सामना करना तुमने सिखाया..

जब गैरों से हुआ सामना..

उनको अपना बनाना तुमने सिखाया..

सपना जब हमने देखा..

उसे जीतना तुमने सिखाया..

कदमों में है तेरे..

मेरा पूरा जहान..

दिल में हो तुम जहाँ..

भगवान भी नहीं वहाँ..

कह दे कभी हमसे भी ये कोई..

खुशकिस्मत हमारे जैसा ना होगा कोई..

कह दूँ..कुछ भी मगर..

तेरे लिए..होगा वो कम..

Dreamer's - Sarah Chib

Dreamer's

If you want to be a star,

follow your dreams like a car

Sometimes your well wishers too not understand you,

but you know that your dream will come true

Always tell your parents about your happiness because rest is not happy for your success

Work hard until it satisfies you,

until you make it true

Achieving a goal will not be a 5-minute game,

it will take thousands of patients and courage

At some point you will feel like giving up,

remember that's just one point away from achieving up

Believe in god's game, he has written your dreams delivery date

Just a little hope and belief and everything will be nice and sweet!

-By Sarah Chib

Balconies are great | Priyanka Bhandarkar

How happiness is woven into balconies

Outside the silent empty house each day

And strikes the old hate to empty in a bin

Maybe a book growling on the shelf

The time when we sense the furniture kept

And how it is not sudden but still persistent

These are where orgies come out evident.

An open window that looks out into the streets

As I stand my lifespan complete there itself in a dream.

You are so happy that you conceal the onslaught

Repeatedly taking in the demonstration of thoughts

And all you have is a balcony to talk about

You are so poor that you can no longer return,

The warm sunlight from the Good morning.

As long as you live you want to grieve,

Hidden is the suffering and happiness in your universe

And here work best be done of faith that has returned

Like the growth of a tree with roots deepened.

For what is happiness is always right

No other thoughts stir throughout the night.

Triggering symptoms of the space provided

From above I can see people walking

As if I were looking at the sheep that fly over the fence

Busy in a simple adventure keeping the distance.

Beneath are what could live wanted to and tried

It hurts to look down to observe those in lines.

The moon grinning in a round number without a name

I laughed because I wanted to honour the day.

Every job as it’s day and a country to talk about

The inside bird and the outside bird in a fight of transparency

You will find werewolf’s and the angry Poseidon without a vacancy.

And as long as excitement remains

You will find things like that in balconies

Hoping the road to another house is a long one

You will encounter spirits that set the soul free.

May there be as many nights as possible

With what joy?what pleasure?what harbours?

You sure that there are people below and nearby

The magnificent being the car,motorbike and lorry at a standby.

But don't hurry the journey at all as it lasts

It steps right into our lives over and about.

As I hear the spit and crackle of heartbeats,

What it is to whisper and deliver love in the streets.

This practice from the balcony that is unveiled,

This inheritance which is passed down as a gift.

Allowing awe to practice as stars will usher

This is where we gods shall meet and there is laughter.

That activate space particles and the event horizon

A deep grasp of will to become the whirling wind

That makes us leap to find the game and sing

Fill our bellies with infinite calculations and thorns

Extracting the elixir of life that makes you shift

Billions of blue blistering barnacles that drift.

I choose to leave the house and remain on the balcony

Don’t waste your breathe explaining your mother of this motive

Why daily you are happy and patiently drink your milk

Stand by the balcony and let you rage those six yards of silk.

When the charge for attempted murder is domestic

Imagine a thought cloud in your head trying out the gimmick.

Remember to write about balconies and unburden

With a pillow,water-bottle and a packet of chips.

Sigh no more of the dull and heavy,

Converting all horns of vehicles heard into an identity.

Know that you are celebrating success

This is my city and this is my home.

Balconies are where poets are born

This is my city.This is my home.

Nine Yards- Yeshaswini Srihari

I wish to tell you a story today,

One of nine yards,

And the women over which it is draped,

I wish to tell you the story of a country,

And its daughters alike.

My mother is a warrior,

She is a land where beauty is bold,

Her rivers speak loud,

Her mountains rise, covered in snow,

She bears deserts and plains,

Where verses of her victory grow,

And her valleys carry the echoes,

Of stories of her freedom, of her fight.

My Mother is the very essence of life.

She has fought for her own dignity.

It is so easy for us to acknowledge her beauty,

And so easy for us to ignore her pain.

How convenient to think,

She would never face injustice again.

India has been singing for her daughters

A war cry, an echo which is fighting against the wind

Leaving her, leaving me, with a struggle in silence.

This saree which is draped over her daughters,

It is blood red, a tradition, a sacrifice.

It is a reminder of the blood we will bleed,

While our mountains are abused,

While our flowers are plucked,

Our every inch exploited,

While our plains are left to become barren land,

And nothing grasps our outstretched hand,

Not even the echo of our cry for help.

The borders of this saree are invaded,

Just like those of my mother were.

These foreign objects of colonisation,

Conquer our skin and invade our bones,

Stripped of our precious stones,

Like in the story of Queens and their thrones,

These daughters fight for their freedom.

Mouths sewn shut with gold thread,

You hear our silver anklets instead,

Along with the jhumkas which rattle on our ears

But can you hear our hearts beat?

Can you feel our fear?

This daughter of India fights,

With an attempt to find her voice.

The nine yards of this saree,

Are now embroidered with our truth.

It is draped across our mountains,

Pleated along our plains and pinned to our borders,

And our pallu flows like the words from my mouth,

And the ink from my pen,

These daughters of India will not be hurt again,

For India has taught her daughters well.

This is the kind of poetry which cuts your tongue.

These verses come from women so strong,

It was nothing but a mistake to do them wrong.

Who are fighting for their pride, for a win,

By using their voices from within.

These daughters of India fight to prove,

That they are not property to be owned,

That they are not filed cases or doubted complaints,

But women who practice humanity with no restraint,

They are women with an abundance of love,

And enough light and water to nurture the world.

Just like my Mother did.

This story of mother and daughter,

Is one of overwhelming strength.

These bruises upon this tainted brown skin,

Speak volumes of the history of their kin.

India is mother to daughters who are yet to heal.

Do not underestimate the power of women,

Draped in nine yards.

With these verses which we religiously recite,

I have learnt from my mother how to fight.

I will immortalise her efforts in poetry,

Make her and my sisters warrior goddesses,

Through my words and verses,

I will make you this promise.

That India and her daughters will be free,

And it all starts with poetry.

Transitioning | Pragya Kothari

She needs to leave now, as the seasons pass by

The winds take the dust away to make the slate clean again

With the leaves falling down and being replaced by new ones

It’s time to close the chapter on everything that once was

Including who I once was

My old ways brought me here

They transitioned me from darkness to light

They showed me a flicker of sunshine ,and that I can overcome anything in life

As long as I have myself I’ll be fine, I will make it out alive

They brought me to the doors that I need to walk on my own

It’s the beginning of a new era

The days are brighter, life seems lighter

What got me here, won’t get me any further

I need different skills to be equipped for my life as it is

And the very first step is to say goodbye to what was and not is

She and her life at the time, are a part of my story

A journey that brought me where I always wanted to be

But to go any further, I need to leave her in the place where she lives

Fifteen does not equal seventeen, and I know she’s proud of me

She never could’ve imagined how far we’d be

The past is burning right in front of my eyes

In the most beautiful colors of ashes and light

It shimmers and sparkles as it leaves my life behind

And instead settles into just being a part of my timeline

Making its way in history and marking itself in memories

Till the wind takes it all away

And I’m left with a new slate

All because the seasons change

SELFLESS- Ananya Tiwari

She sees them dancing

over the moans of her tears.

her words, dropping like fire,

burns no one but her.

Caressing her body,

leaving the wounds untouched,

she turns to the mirror

and seizing the rage,

sympathises with her own self.

I ask her - "why did you hide it all?"

"So it wouldn't bleed their ears."

The Scrutiny | Anadhika Sharma

My existence was given for scrutiny,

To the millions existing,

people saw the being of my soul,

Scrutinising initially, they eventually ignored.

People see, they interpret, they understand,

They watch, they misinterpret, did this regard.

Different perspectives, different ideologies, different methods,

Similar whims, similar reasons, similar destinations.

Different but similar existence.

Baffled and restless, the minds meander carelessly,

To achieve and attain, and acquire and gain,

The world, the life, the existence and all of this space is a huge kerfuffle.

Different lives, different smiles, but a connect of the souls,

The source that a tied to distinct goals.

Distinct, did I mention?

Well, not really it’s just thought muddled up-

Some fear, some joy, some anxiety, some ecstasy, some tension.

There’s common emotions, common destinations, and common foolery of the multitudes spread,

Some work on feelings, some on dreams they tread.

Ambition of understanding, science and space and time,

Aiming at grasping vehemence and philosophy and the Divine.

Ambition of impacting millions of lives,

Aiming at procuring tons of smiles.

We are also discrete,

And yet there is something that binds us with Cleopatra and Einstein and Shakespeare,

Desires, dreams, feelings and tears,

And O! Damned death,

And the wind that became breath,

It’s humanity’s existence that’s given for scrutiny and not just mine,

And what ends up being scrutinised is the materialistic world and the powers of the Divine.

Barriers are shattered when that desire comes into play,

‘Cause it derives the spirit out of this ugly mess of scrutiny and existence strayed.

The principles of real superhero- Dipa Pegu

My friend this is for you,

Remember, to be a superhero

you don't need to scale

skyscraper with bare hands

You don't need to survive in a

remote cabin,

Let's Make it simple,

Making things simple itself

is a difficult process

Even the great Leonardo Da Vinci

also told us " simplicity is the ultimate

sophistication"

Who says the people who reached

the bottom of Mariana Trench are

only known as Fearless

Who says the people who climbed

the Mount Everest are only

recognised as Courageous

You don't need to conquer the

whole world to be superhero

Tell me who consider Hitler as a superhero?

You and I could be superhero

If we overcome the fear

Fear of death and fear of live in pain

Don't ever forget pain and pleasure

is a very inevitable part of life,

We could be superhero if we

repel the fear to be a failure and

fear of not being a winner

Losing and winning is the key role of

your dream that you chase,

We could be superhero if we

shrug off the critics and libel

that make us suffer,

We could be superhero if we

don't desire to be only

honoured and don't oppose to be

contempted

Only those who have endured mockery

know the value of respect,

We could be superhero if we

don't have greed for more power

and don't enraged to be powerless

Don't ever forget, greed is the

root of self destruction.

Guaranteed, you and I

can be "the Great" if we

have a secure mindset of not to

judge the humans as rich and poor

upper and lower, white and black,

We can be superhero if we

conquer the devil inside us

who distract our consciences and

DNA and Gene who incline our

thoughts to spread detestation

on the basis of ethnicity

religion, nationality and

sexual orientation,

Some people apart from world

may still practice primitive way

of life, may still consume by superstitions

So, it's not righteous to loathe them

My friend, if you really can

please elucidate some facts to them.

The feeling of superiority

The leveraging of indigents,

and create a circus to keep animals caged,

Thes aren't not sound like human's deeds,

Even a few months of lockdown

make us feel horrible deep down

All of us are complaining about

desires to roam around the streets

and live free

So, we are all guilty of visiting a zoo ?

Yeah, they weren't born for our entertainment

they have a life just like us,

Imagine a hypothetical situation

" Suppose you are a claustrophobic,

then you are captured behind a

concrete wall,

imagine the pains of yours,

restlessness, faintings, tremors,

anxiety, hallucinations, blurred vision,

and everything become dark and darker.."

If you feel traumatic to be caged

then they feel it too.

Do you know the colonial rule of British?

about the Slavery, Exploitations

and the Captivity?

People were craving for freedom

terribly,

The story of the animals and

indigents being exploited by human

is the same illicitness that repeated,

So, you and I could be a superhero

who will fight for the rights of

indigents and abused animals.

Indeed, you, I and the whole people

can be called "the Great" if we choose

the humanity,

The humanity of kindness and

compassion,

humanity of forgiveness,

humanity of altruism,

humanity of love,

And the humanity of serve

and protect........

Let's remember a pretty story of humanity

"A doctor left her car stuck in traffic,

ran almost 3 kilometres to reach the

hospital and performed a crucial

surgery."

Well believe it or not, now a days we called destruction a progress

Cause so called digital Earth in the

making ,

Sadly, we have the tendency to choose

luxurious malls over the biodiversified

forests

Cutting trees with brutal machine

What a vandalism!

Do you know the United Nation's chief Antonio Guterres warns us

" The era of global warming

has ended, the era of global boiling

has arrived "

Tell me what will happen to glaciers

of the Arctic Ocean?

Will the Amazon rainforest survive?

What will happen to those animals

who thrive in Western ghat?

And what about you, I and the

whole humankind ?

Will we be able to breathe without

an oxygen mask ?

As humans these questions

might be depressing for us.

So, please don't waste your entire lives in complaining, destroying, hating

and making excuses,

Do something for our mother Earth,

I swear you will be superhero

for the earthlings,

My friend, this is the time to answer

the philosopher and diplomate

who accused us " humans are an unfortunate plague, eliminating others species , irrevocably damaging the planet and treating each other

like a trash "

And

" The humans are the only species on

the Earth who's extinction would

result in the ecology of the planet

Earth's flourishing"

By the way these aren't false allegations!

So, my friend tell me now

Are you ready to be a superhero?

Fearlessly, deliberately, cautiously.

Scattered- Careen Alma Lakadong

My soul scattered

To live another day,

My heart reserved its pieces.

A journey was once started,

But it ended in between

The lost and found signs

Of the nearest parking lot.

The feet wandered around,

Dancing to the beats

Of heavy breathing,

And the lips exhaled

Continuous sighs of relief,

While watching one's body

Getting slaughtered

In the shop of life.

The pages turned themselves;

Ink splatter all over it,

Smudging the love letters

Of a lover who never felt

The pleasure of being loved

In return.

The footprints paved the way

To the nearby grave

With soul less bodies resting

Six feet underneath,

While flowers and candles

Decorated their new home.

The walls at home

Doesn't hear much nowadays,

But it spares a word or two

About the reincarnated soul.

Incense sticks were lit up;

The room, heavy with smoke

Was gutted into ashes.

The remains were transferred

To a box of matchsticks,

And it remained untouched;

For the box was heavier

Than the other loss of life.

My First Best Friend Was Kashmiri- Shruti Mahesh

"I see Kashmir from Delhi at Midnight"

~ Agha Shahid Ali

My First Best Friend was Kashmiri.

“This song was shot in Kashmere.”

I stare at the screen standing on my five-year-old feet,

“Tulips grow there”, Pappa said,

“it's beautiful.”

My father’s army friend is drinking tea,

he’s going to Kashmere.

I hear him while I teach my dolls EVS-

civilians, terrorists, and armies fight there.

“Meghna Dhar”

a teacher calls out your name,

my head turns to see- short brown hair

framing a fair face.

You sit next to me every day.

“I’m Kashmiri,” you say.

“Simran.” I refer to your cousin.

“Simran nahi, Sumran.

It’s a Kashmiri name.”

“I went up to Pahalgam on a horseback and it snowed in Srinagar

and I made a snowman. I ate gaanth-gobi and mutton Yakhni and-“

“You went to Kashmere,

which is my hometown and I have never been there.

Don’t talk to me about Kashmere.”

Your mother talks to me and tells tales

about going to school in Shikaras,

I wonder if drowning scares her, but I don’t ask.

You say your Kashmiri isn’t as good as hers.

There’s another Kashmiri boy in our class,

whose friends tease him-

“Dekh! Teri Kashmiri seb.”

I turn to you in horrific rage,

but you just blush.

It's 2019,

and they have shut down the internet in your home state.

You sent me screenshots of an argument with a friend

who supports the government. You’re upset.

I see you sitting with books of Habba Khatun, Arnimal

and Lalded. You show me the Urdu you’ve been practicing,

in unused school notebooks.

Last year I bought a book of Kashmiri poetry

to read and learn about you more.

Last month you called to tell me

you didn’t want to be my friend anymore.

That book will sit unread till I

make a new Kashmiri friend.

You used to see Kashmir from Delhi all the time,

and I was always delighted to hear

what you thought about it.

I see Kashmir from Delhi, at any time,

losing you is a bitter syrup I swallow

before coughing into these stories like a hanky I

always keep in my pocket.

(for Meghna Dhar)

VETERAN COGNATE - Vyga Nambiar

( To my father's kin who remained the light of our life)

I am not bidding you farewell,

For you made the inn a home!

In my adolescent years,

You dropped in like a knight,

Spending half a century for homeland,

Melting the rest on me.

I recall the thorny routes,

Your feet surpassed.

You were certain a Marlboro could blaze our home,

That we could drown when you are sloshed,

Your mutilation could extinguish our joys,

And you abstained with a hermit's air,

Executing Japanese strategy.

Many summers apart,

I saw you wail for life,

Fighting leukemia with all vigour.

Papa rushed in bankruptcy,

Casting off Darkwater,

And bone breaking decades,

To press your feet.

I could barely register,

And I dismissed him.

Then in a lightening it struck,

You were the man!

You were the man,

Father to my orphaned mother,

My Godfather and Papa's God!

When I apprehended I sobbed,

As if on the prior day at kindergarten,

Gradually breaking to shreds,

Sensing your soothing fondles at midnight,

Like an ember burning out,

I rose at dawn to see you charred !

Abuse Can Feel Like Love | Jiya Arora

He manipulated me into believing that he loved me

He controlled my life and told me

That these restrictions were to keep me safe

That the world outside is waiting for a victim

And if I go outdoors I'd be killed

The princess tower he locked me in was so beautiful

I only realized that I was trapped when I tried to escape

I used to put makeup on my marks

So that the scars of his abuse won't be visible

I believed that this is what god has for me and this is what I deserve

That he only punishes me for the mistakes I make

I learned to live according to him

I learned to cook, clean, and pleasure all for him

But yet the fights couldn't be avoided

He could point at my mistakes like that's the only thing his eyes can see

I lost my left eye vision

Because his right hand was too big for my cheek

I lost half the volume of my hair

Because his grip was too strong

I've marks on my arms of cuts caused by broken bangles

Because I was weak to fight his strength

He didn't love me selflessly

So his happiness always

mattered more than mine

He didn't love me fiercely

So his fears tore my home apart

His words never stand to be his feelings

His feelings never stand to be his actions

His actions never stand to be true

He could never love me

The way I loved him

Aren't we supposed to love by accepting all the flaws

So I loved him with all his flaws

Devoting myself to only him

Waiting for him to love me

the way I love him

But today,

I wish I had raised my voice

So I wouldn't have thought that maybe every woman is loved like this

The Folly- Poe Baker

The Folly

Once I chased a falling star,

Once and only once, I vowed

To plead perchance, I dimmed it’s spark,

To it that shone so bright and proud.

Blindly and with burning gaze

I sought my heart and turned blind eye.

And looked upon that blinding face,

My penitence wrought me to die.

When the embers of a distant sky

Lit spark to my most sweetest woe,

I sighed to think it weren’t for naught

Were I to die my death and go.

That Stranger Whom We Love | Amatullah Madhiya

Hope we get from that random stranger,

Like a single ray of sunshine in the storm,

When we never thought of getting out of danger,

That hand, which helps us transform.

From hating oneself to being selfless again,

Transform, in a way we never thought.

It protects us from the storm, like the umbrella in the rain,

That Stranger, then becomes our mascot.

The thought of dying is changed to living,

Living again, like everyday is the last.

We then, owe it all to the strangers giving,

Who no longer reminds us of the past.

That Stranger is indeed God's gift,

Gift wrapped with full of dreams and joy.

We love them and pray for them to never drift,

They become our support system, someone we cannot destroy.

In hope to get better, why do we go towards the same danger?

Instead of finding peace within ourselves, why does the heart fall weak?

Yes, the heart wants love, be it from that random stranger,

No matter how focused we are, the heart follows its own technique.

The last words- Komal Kasera

When you are one step away from losing them,

And are saying your last ever words..

What would you say?

Would you still talk

Or would the words just fail to come?

Even if you talk,

What all will you fit into those final moments?

Where will you begin and

How

Oh how!

Will you ever finish?

You may start by telling them

how much you love them,

You may then go over each and every beautiful moment

And recall all that you learnt from them

You might even remind them

of the horrible things they did to you

and then laugh about it

Or maybe you confess your crimes

and seek forgiveness.

But no matter what you say

It will not change a thing

Because

Words aren’t enough to define your love for them,

The beautiful moments are infinite and

you won’t be able to do justice to all of them

no matter how much you rush.

You will list all the things you learnt

But will you be able to fit in how important they were

In shaping you and your future?

You might have fun laughing about the horrible things now,

But would you be also tell them how

In your bad phases, those memories still haunt you

And that’s why you cry more than you should?

Even if you gather courage to confess your greatest crime

Would it finally render your conscience clean and guilt free?

No matter what you say,

no matter what!

It wont really

It wont.

Change a thing

No matter what you say,

It wont fill the void you feel

In their absence.

Because no words are ever enough

In the final moments.

And yet

You must say them,

For who knows,

Maybe it’s these words

That finally bring you the solace

That you seek

When you finally let them go.

रंगीन दुनिया | Priyanka Bisht

न जाने क्यों ये दुनिया रंग बदलती है..

लाल रंग का चूनर ओढ़े ।

प्रेम की माला जपती है ।।

उसी लाल चूनर की ओढ़ में ।

पीछे खंजर घोपती है ।।

न जाने क्यों ये दुनिया इतने रंग बदलती है..

सफेद रंग का नकाब पहने ।

सच्चाई की राह दिखाती है ।।

फिर उसी सफेद रंग के कपड़े से।

मां बहनों की सुहाग उजाड़ती है ।।

न जाने क्यों ये दुनिया इतने रंग बदलती है..

पीले फूलों की खुशबू की आड़ में ।

दोस्ती के झूठे वादे करवाती है।।

फिर वही वादे एक दिन ।

पीले पत्तों के समान झड़ जाती है।।

न जाने क्यों ये दुनिया इतने रंग बदलती है..

काले रंग की मिसाल देकर ।

हर रंग का भेद छुपाती है।।

गलत कर्मों का फल न देकर ।

एक काला धब्बा बन कर रह जाती है।।

प्रियंका बिष्ट

न जाने क्यों ये दुनिया रंग बदलती है..

लाल रंग का चूनर ओढ़े ।

प्रेम की माला जपती है ।।

उसी लाल चूनर की ओढ़ में ।

पीछे खंजर घोपती है ।।

न जाने क्यों ये दुनिया इतने रंग बदलती है..

सफेद रंग का नकाब पहने ।

सच्चाई की राह दिखाती है ।।

फिर उसी सफेद रंग के कपड़े से।

मां बहनों की सुहाग उजाड़ती है ।।

न जाने क्यों ये दुनिया इतने रंग बदलती है..

पीले फूलों की खुशबू की आड़ में ।

दोस्ती के झूठे वादे करवाती है।।

फिर वही वादे एक दिन ।

पीले पत्तों के समान झड़ जाती है।।

न जाने क्यों ये दुनिया इतने रंग बदलती है..

काले रंग की मिसाल देकर ।

हर रंग का भेद छुपाती है।।

गलत कर्मों का फल न देकर ।

एक काला धब्बा बन कर रह जाती है।।