Caste- a disease -Aditi Reddy Amaram

united as a nation,

divided by caste separation.

the society needs a tag,

just to brag,

race and assets is what they want,

so the elite flaunt.

in the veins, where the sanguinary flow

does it know your caste high or low?

aren't we all equal in the eyes of almighty?

then who are we to discriminate by fraternity?

with the world moving fast,

weare disabled with a disease called caste.

as the current run shallow through the mountain's grace,

our thoughts too in shallowness we trace.

let us flow like a river free and wide,

in deeper thoughts, our hearts shall reside.

recognise a person for his good deed

and don't let this ranking be his impede.

lets take an oath to change it all around,

before this legacy, goes beyond.

Sands of Eternal Decay- Ashneet Kaur

Barehanded,

I scratch out the sands

Of the dying desert

Of eternal decay.

For the note left for me

Written in water,

Has seeped its way down.

Deeper it goes, still.

Sinking,

Into the deluge of dreams, they serenaded Soul.

Here,

My longings linger on,

Persevering,

In a garden of thorns.

Suffocated,

Beneath the surface of the Self;

Under the ever-piling pressure

Of perpetual metamorphosis.

Onwards it goes, still.

Still,

I believe

That I do not know myself.

I know

That I believe in nothing.

In the cradle of this knowledge,

Sleeps my Humanity.

Embraced does my ignorance stay

In the arms of the loving Mother.

And

In the knowing of the little,

I am learned.

Often,

When the eyelids of reality

Are heavy with the slumber of hope,

In the soft stillness of my being,

I am saved.

Blank Space | Kriti Garg

I felt fingers puncture the walls

Of my heart and soul alike

Pulling me down in the sinking sand

With every struggle shrug I made

I felt another strike

It engulfed me

But the black just faded away

As under I went

Light swallowed the grey

Chaos set in my mind

Didn't know which end pulled me close

I felt like a rubber band

In an empty void- dose

Racing beats and melting masks

I felt every petal unfurl

The vacuum pulled apart

But in liberation, I twirled

To think of what it was

All it brings is pain

Well the soul left its cage

The silent screeches weren’t in vain

Was it a walk to ashes

Or did I lead ahead

Of all that crushed the existence

Of the ephemeral salvation thread…

It was the blank space is all I know!

A Love Unspoken- Vaibhav Srivastava

In the realm of youth where friendships bloom,

was a boy and girl in love's soft cocoon.

She was gentle as a breeze and playful as a fawn,

a trusting heart like the break of dawn.

Through sunny days and skies so blue,

they laughed and played as their friendship grew.

Innocence and trust and their bond did mend,

no one else, they vowed, till the very end.

He knew deep down that his heart held a flame,

in love with her, though he never spoke her name.

They would promise a bond forever after high school's sway,

and with none but each other, they'd light their way.

Under Saturday's stars, they'd often recline,

stargazing and talking sharing dreams entwined.

She was his world and he was her guiding star,

in each other's eyes, they had travelled so far.

But shadows did dance in the corners of his mind,

intrusive thoughts of loss that seemed undefined.

He would picture himself weeping, head to forearm pressed,

upon her deathbed, an ache was deep in his chest.

High school farewell brought tears to their eyes,

in each other's arms did they bade their goodbyes.

Days later came a crushing, painful blow,

news of an accident, a fate they couldn't forgo.

She lay in a coma with her time slipping away,

little hope remained, the doctors would say.

He brought a flower, a message in tow,

beside her bed where dreams used to grow.

Bent on his knees and whispered a plea,

as she departed, so did his dreams you see?

Of marriage and family, a future so bright,

all of it faded away in the depths of the night.

With tears in his eyes, he kissed her goodbye,

A love unspoken, under the starry sky.

In the end, all he had were memories and pain,

As he whispered to her silence "I love you," like a gentle refrain.

My Depression Loves Me | Nashrah Tanvir

My depression is fluent in blames and assumptions,

Smells of burnt out cigarettes, the smoke running in his vein,

He talks to me about the people I have lost,

The friendships I have left behind,

These wraiths of memories-

They are hanging on the dusty shelves of my heart,

Like souvenirs from the past,

Rattling with every move I make,

The music of these memories is a song

He plays on loop,

And I'm dodging the thoughts, his voice

Like bullets aimed at my sanity,

I tell him how my mind is a nightmare,

But he doesn't tell me it's going to be okay

As much as he tells me no one will understand.

I'm wearing the dress he likes,

The colour looks good on me, he tells me,

I'm wearing the opinions he feeds me

Served on the platter of insecurities,

But I don't question,

We're in love,

He loves me, he tells me,

He loves how my eyes are what the strength of a hurricane looks like

But are also only a basic shade of black.

He loves my face but freckles don't look good on me,

He loves my hair but it looks much better when straightened,

He loves me but on his terms,

And I don't question him, again.

The Chocolate Bar that changed my life- V. Akshai Kumar

Looking into his eyes, filled with tears of joy,

I was a bit shaken and surprised

That , by just doing this I brought immense happiness on that kid’s face.

He immediately bent down to touch my feet,

I galloped away telling him that it was not the right way to react.

At the same time I could understand his excitement and joy

And his emotions getting the better of him.

After all he was still a kid.

He then ran towards that small dark room ,

Which was initially built to store worn out pieces of furniture and old clothing

Now it was a house for four.

He called out his sister’s name

And she came out of the dark slowly,

Her eyes looked like billiard balls

Which became even bigger on seeing what her brother was holding,

She had a wide smile on her face,

I could almost count her teeth

Because most of them were still in the process of digging out.

They split the chocolate bar in half

So accurately that, even the makers would guess they were two separate pieces.

Abi and Kavi then ran towards their father

He was busy with his daily routine,

Mopping the floor before our car entered the parking space.

He saw his children’s face painted with chocolate and quickly asked them

“Did you thank your big brother ?”

I was filled with a lot of emotions.

But mainly with gratitude, empathy and guilt .

Guilt because I had just scolded my mother for not making my favourite dish for lunch.

Beauty's Meaning- Shreya Mahadani

Visible collarbones, waist size small

A perfect jawline and six ft tall

Bodycon dresses and fitted pants

Subtle appearance of nerves on hands

Is beauty only defined on such terms and conditions?

Because I don’t remember signing up for these petitions.

Strange how we say it’s the soul that matters

Yet filter our eyes only for attractive figures

Those who fit the manmade category

Become pretty in all their glory

Is beauty really seen in structured carves?

Because I can’t see beyond the blessed heart.

Curves and folds were considered art

Or was that just a myth of the past?

Life was more than having a body

But I Guess that’s changing slowly

Is beauty all that we think it is?

Because something sure seems to miss

~love always, SM.

Baul, the Song of Mystic Minstrel | Arup Pal

After nature, heart fascinates man. It is a tale of

a young composer who left his home in search of

red-earth’s contour. He was on a far way journey

to the withering geography of Bengal, the land of Bauls,

to meet a Baulani, who sings and dances the way

rain breathes air.

Upon meeting

he saw a gust of wind blew her hair like poetry. Her sight

spelled a purity of wisdom, unspeakable. Her bare feet

moved in zeal. Her whole body emerged as one fine cadence

that made the moment caught. As she danced her ghungur

spelled the time immovable. Time was caught in mesmeric

no-time, and what he heard and what she sang remained

an unforgettable experience. His initial interest of understanding of

how a Baulani sings turned to him an external question.

Once the song was over, emotive-eyed Parbati Baul explained Baul

with sahajiya (an inimitable easiness and totality) as though she would give him

all she had. Her innateness had an affirmation of giving everything unhesitatingly

because sharing is loving and living. Baul is a way of living on love.

Baul, she explains, is the cry of heart that energies perpetual inwardness to drink

a pure life. He was so lured to her deep utterances, inflections and swings that

he wanted to be a co-traveller in her journey beyond the lure of time and worldly concerns

to feel the conjoining of body and soul and to get blended in devotion and wisdom.

Shadows in Bloom- Snowber Vaqar

Lilac, my cherished dear, so tender,

Embracing my heart, sweet surrender,

Yet shadows lurk within, veiled and sly,

Beneath His skies, darkness, nails to the sky.

Amidst the blend of purple and white,

Two realms entwine in day and night,

Their fusion, my pulse gently ebbs,

A nameless dread, beneath the surface, treads.

I yearn for daffodils dressed in lilac attire,

Whispers in the breeze, delicate, inspire,

Yet those whispers twist into mournful moans,

In lilac's bloom, my sanity atones.

I paint my fingers with lilac's fragrant trance,

But they turn azure in this solemn space,

A frigid touch constricts my very soul,

Shall I cleanse it or let shadows take control?

Fates entwined, so beautiful, so true,

You were an enigma, a vivid blue,

Not lilac, but something profoundly askew,

In your presence, my world plunged into darkness anew.

not your nude | Sonali Pattnaik

the female body

titillates you

humiliates you

but most of all, it horrifies you

breasts, unasked for,

appearing untimely

and un-underwired,

are cause for fear

when they don’t disappear

under the fog of your

objectifying desire

birth and menstruation

scare you. blood. too much blood

blood you want to shed and own

but blood flowing freely, out of line,

blood in no mood to be contained

blood that will not be managed

and erased or soaked

horrifies you so you try

to tame its femininity

with your masculine name

you give her blood

your name

a single woman with

a child intimidates you

more than a war mongering man

sending millions to their graves

a life saved outside of the normative

dismays you more than one

slain at the altar of patriarchy,

a woman must be rightly accompanied

a woman must be rightly occupied,

reproduction is her task

her rights over her body must be denied,

whether she is giving birth

or not, she must be infantalised

from her own self, kept aside,

a mother who knows

what she would do

bothers you

at parties, in classrooms, in queues

anywhere this un-body appears

it un-bones you

how did she dare mix labour with love

and when she could be sexy,

do the hetero thing,

mothering non-threatening

why does she deviate by singling?

why does her haircut expose the nape?

how does a whore file for rape?

the female body

when covered, not covered

slightly covered, forgets covers

intimidates you

so you compensate

your fears in the language of

consumption, you try and fix

that body by wanting

or not wanting her

to have lived so far

from the truth,

have wrapped yourself

tight in the flag of falsity

burrowed so deep into

the cave of masculine make belief,

living by the lies of self-origination

and women’s self-objectification

and other codes of abiding hypocrisy,

having drawn the borders

of families and nations

by contorting, stretching,

manning this body

even a single flash of the real,

a woman living in, through, out of,

her own body, say,

wearing a burka at the beach

undoes you; that woman who says “no”

refuses to fall neatly into your

binaryculars of want/not-want

scares the living daylights

out of your fragile mandom

for that body is not

your ‘nude’

not the one you remember

from the airport magazine

or the studio table

that body appears instead

as the ghost of all your

murdered truths

Gandhi- Ek vichardhara- Geetanjali Mehra

गांधी - एक विचारधारा

गांधी एक मूरत नहीं

झलकती हुई कोई सूरत नहीं,

गांधी एक व्यक्तित्व की ज़रूरत है I

गांधी एक सितारा नहीं,

शब्दों के मेल का कोई नारा नहीं,

गांधी एक विचारधारा है I

गांधी सोच की गागर नहीं,

कुछ ख्यालों की चादर नहीं,

गांधी विचारों का सागर है I

गांधी लाठी में , चश्मे में , चरखे में नहीं,

अक्षरों से सम्मलहित किताबों में नहीं,

Joys of a Warrior | Ishita Deo

As the sun rose up

Heralding the arrival of a new day,

Thoughts crowded my mind

Tormenting me, as on my bed I lay

Ahead of me waited,

Another taxing day of work;

The fresh greenery of calmness

Inside me, eroded into murk

As a doctor in the pandemic,

A billion responsibilities I shouldered,

Broken apart pieces of my community,

Back together I soldered

Every day was laborious,

My body begging me to stop

But I held myself strongly together,

Willing myself not to drop

It is for the good of my people, I thought

I felt proud for serving my country,

Yet a thought burrowed its way inside my mind,

A thought that wasn’t paltry

The corona pandemic was tough on everyone,

But it was the toughest on me;

While everyone relished their unexpected vacation,

I never got the joy of being free

Day and night, I worked hard

Racing against time to defeat the virus;

I’d convinced myself that I was fine,

But the ache to have a rest was desirous

My bones ached and my limbs shaked,

My head hurt a ton and more;

My eyes strained against my brain,

Every part of me was sore

Though it was my mind that suffered the most,

My emotions gone haywire;

Donning a mask of joy for my patients,

Even if it was for their good, I felt like a liar

How do you tell a hopeful mother,

That her child may not live?

That you tried everything you could,

But you have nothing left to give?

It’s hard to witness a son grieving his parents,

Watch as he says goodbye;

You interrogate yourself further,

Was that the best you could’ve done, did you really try?

You watch, as a young girl

Begs her dearest friend not to go;

You can do nothing to ease her pain now,

You don’t have the power to run the show

Yet again, it is your turn for despondency

When it is your own family you witness,

Withering away in the clutches of calamity;

Try as you might, you can’t be their safety harness

I question myself daily,

Was it worth the pain to choose this profession?

When tiny molecules of a virus we cannot see,

In a second, abraded everyone’s determination

A day comes, when you lose all hope

It may already be here, or further still

But this morose moment no one can avoid,

The day that tests the intensity of your will

When everything is lost and time slows down,

Presenting to you what you may call your failures;

You need to pace yourself and look further,

To see the people who know you as god’s own saviours

The people I fought hard for,

Battling the wars inside;

Hunting down every last particle of the virus,

Leaving for it no place to hide

The pain is great but the satisfaction is greater,

When I managed to sacrifice

Another ounce of my own health,

To give my patients the joy of living life twice

I often confuse times and dates,

When I’ve been working constantly for days;

But every time I help a family,

That gratification from my mind is never erased

Machines beeping, sufferers weeping,

Noises that have been ingrained in my brain;

But a patient’s sweet melody of laughter,

Surpasses the intensity of every pain

People everywhere donning blue,

Out of dress code or gloom, I can’t decipher;

Yet the colours of mirthful conversations

Veil the despair, a perplexing cipher

A droplet of an invisible virus

Might have stuttered our valor for a bit,

But our species undeterring,

The virus couldn’t impair our grit

Fervor reigns once again; you feel elated to inform

A mother who had lost all hope,

That death failed its task to steal away her child;

That it ran away when you severed its rope

You witness a son cherishing the gift,

The gift of life you gave to his family,

When you managed to achieve the impossible,

And rescue his parents from the calamity

You watch, as a delighted young girl

Spends all day playing with her friend;

You crafted their joy with your own hands,

You gave back her life before it could end

Yet again, it is your turn for ecstasy,

When it is your own family you behold

Steadily going back to the ordinary,

Expectations for their well-being, you did uphold

I might question my choices

A hundred times and more,

But every little joy I cause, every patient saved

Strengthens my resolve fourscore

The pandemic was tough, but I was tougher

My soul may not be religious

But I thank god for giving me the chance;

To ensure that throughout, I was courageous

I serve my community and I do it faithfully,

Day and Night, I spend defeating the pandemic

My silent efforts are more effective

Than any belligerent polemic

Slowly shaping my community back to one,

As I drive away all pernicious ailments from coast;

Because at the end of yet another day,

Isn’t that what matters most?

Knowing that my hard work is paying off,

It certainly was all worth it;

Glittering smiles all around me,

Brightening up the room like torches lit

So, as the sun rose up once again,

Heralding the arrival of morning a-new,

I too rose with renewed vigor

My will and strength plentiful, and complaints few.

Kindness- A strength- Sonee Sri

Don't judge my kindness as a weakness sweetheart

Have you noticed water, the way it flows is a masterpiece of art.

It looks pure, transparent, so calm yet gentle in all it's way,

It has power to nurture life occurring in it & on it's bay.

Yet has power of breaking the rock, on it's path,

Maybe not at once but with several hits rock has to fall apart.

When turned wild, it becomes dangerous,

If provoked it can turn disastrous.

I take all that up for my inspiration &

I wanted to live upto my positive imagination.

My kindness is my strength,

But if enkindle, I may loose my temperament.

My moves will be so swift to blow you out of my way,

You might regret later for meeting me on that particular day

-Sonee sri

My Moon | Ishika Mukherjee

I saw the sky crying.

It grieved over the loss of its lover.

It had dark circles like it has lost its meaning of light.

I saw those tears breaking through the clouds,

and reach the earth in hope of comfort.

And the earth, it comforted the sky,

as the air became cooler,

the trees danced and the wind sang

the sky let go of its grief as the dark clouds clear away,

and the beautiful moon appeared.

You were the moon for me.

And now that I have lost you,

it seems like the sky has lost it's source of light,

like its always dark, but it never shed tears.

You held me when I kept falling,

and now, every time I fall,

I hope to see you behind me,

but all I see is dark.

You told me,

"Tell me every terrible thing you ever did,

and let me love you anyway"

Then why are you gone now?

Why has the moon left its night sky,

Why has it left it so dark and empty.

Every time I look at the moon,

I laugh, cuz the pain doesn't hurt anymore,

My heart, it's numb, it's dark and barren.

I still see you in the moon,

But as I look beside me,

the moon laughs.

It points at me and says,

"I never left my sky,

why did your moon leave?"

And I don't know what to say.

It's right,

It is still lighting up its sky,

But my moon, he's gone.

But then I think

Maybe I'm not the sky.

Maybe I'm the earth,

And you're the moon.

Maybe I was never supposed to meet you,

Maybe I should have always loved you from afar.

Because the moon and earth never meet.

And maybe a beautiful accident brought it together.

But,

I feel it's better like that,

my moon with it's sky,

as I, the earth, admire my moon from far.

Salt and Palette- Purva Mishra

Still as salt, sync up a wound

Carved as a knife, blend the palette

I dream of colours, spill turquoise over the canvas

Drop a tear in white, brush over to pink the sky

Angle fixed, in east is a boulder

Sewing my dream, I build a house together

Short, I thought looked the pavement

Cast some spirited grey but heard a thunder

Spiralled shadows, in my thoughts

Blending shades of dark, my brush is wound in a knot

Sink and sinking, heart’s ode of mirrors

Stopwatch on ice, felt gasping tinkers

All dimensions on pause, call routine procedures

Blink a breath, a thousand times

Blink a breath, a hundred times

Mustered to wake, only pages later

In sparkling stream as I calm my rains

I breathe I breathe, dream of my lover

I catch hold of a rainbow, in years away or a minute ago

Free some birds to the wind and their memory

Layered more flowers to chauffer in the sunset

Weave orange lights in a closing quartet

I stroll to the doorknob beneath the lantern sky

Close another chapter and cap the dye

Still as salt, sync up a wound

Carved as a knife, onto a new palette.

The Rose Garden | Aditi Jasrotia

They were your roses, it was your garden

I was a small memory

In an ocean meant for the forgotten

Hatred creates a mirage

It burns relations hiding behind a camouflage

World is loosing sight against the evil attempts

Love is the only cure for all that's in contempt

I see you shining in the stars

The light, though it reaches me, it's echoes still come from the past

Older days when we could say

Sun shines behind those rustic caves

And as they said, in the end everything will be okay

This garden nurtures the souls

Making everything about their mystic core

आशिया- Deepa Sahchari

कुछ बिखर सी गई थी

कांच के टुकड़ों से

समेटने की भी दरकार नहीं थी

शायद इस तस्वीर का डर था

जो सिमटी हुई आईने में मिलती

शायद बदहवास शायद मरी हुई

मौत का डर मौत पे भारी था

कुछ पुरानी बीती परछाईयां

आंखों का सहारा थी

धूप में उड़ती धूल की तरह

बस एक पल की झलक

दूर बुलाती एक आवाज थी

घर आ जा...

एक पुकार ही काफी होती

अगर कोई घर होता

Philosophers Can Never Have Wives!- Anuja Raj

Philosophers can never have wives

They question and rampage you

Trying to figure out the W’s and H’s

Torment you to the extreme

Without counting the ticks

They corner you with their curiosity

Finds sublimity in repartees

Embalms you with a notoriety

Or some not-good emotion

You feel dejected, lost, and futile.

They summarily reject you

Take their bags and go

Shake off your courage

Or try dashing off

Thinking it's insane to cross you

You cling to them

Like creepers blooming

Trying your best to suffice

Their inner torment

To notice you losing the sanity

Alas you realize it’s vain

You are not a blister

Not a tapeworm or a canker

But cancer or a Capricorn

Sworn into their life to be invisible

They wail at things incomprehensible

And heats up at the slightest trigger

Everything is insane

Swirls around in a whirlwind

Incredulous and undecipherable

But they make the most passionate love

Something that conquers you deep

And makes you need them

To love is to give they say!

Yet, Philosophers can never have wives!

There, you are! cracked open!

A nut, a shell, a pod, or a peanut

Swelling up, you notice

It's not you who is insane

But a hell let lose upon you!

And yet I speak for them

Philosophers can never have wives!

They are not born to share

Every day is a lesson

To lessen the other beside them!

Magic always did exist- Aranya Head

Magic always did exist,

We were just too blind to see it.

Magic has been everywhere,

We were just too busy to look.

And believe my dear,

There's magic in you too,

But you've got to awaken it,

That little fae that is in you.

There's magic in every child,

Every little girl and boy.

That child who daydreams,

And is always lost in thoughts,

That child who seems too carefree,

Too fearless and wild.

There's magic in every artist,

Who represents themselves in art.

Every painter, poet and every writer.

Who has people hooked for them.

There magic in nature around,

Little butterflies and little birds.

Flowers that bathe in sun,

Animal so fearless and carefree.

There's magic in me too,

Not the kind you've seen or read.

But the magic of love,

Of passion, of hope.