Irony of Dreams | Tanya Batra

My mind is completely jammed

I feel like this whole situation is programmed

I feel like someone has made up his mind to take my case

And wants to bring me down till I lose my pace

It’s difficult times like these, that help you see dreams

When you can only see them without a tangible scheme

Like a child you stare from a distance at this dream

What should be the path to achieve it? Conservative or extreme?

But, what happens when I do this for a living?

Would it be a happy place or a misgiving?

Or will I feel like it’s a task

That I keep doing wearing a happy mask?

Will I lose what makes me happy today?

And have to find something else to keep sorrow at bay?

Is everything linked to income dis-satisfying?

Which needs constant pacifying?

Is the hunger inside of us looking for something else instead?

Will I find it before the hunger is dead?

This spiral of thought is maddening

As a result, the gap between reality and dream keeps widening

And I still keep staring at the dream from a distance

Afraid to go closer and destroy its very existence

For some, a dream is what they live

For me it’s a bate you forget and forgive

Only tempting me to leave what I possess

To be dissatisfied yet again with my success

home is where the heart..... - Sreemathi R

calls out for a father and traces through his large, muddy

footprints into a kitchen void of mother. The housefly freezes

into a corner, gut twined but wings fluttering, its docile

nonchalance ready to be absorbed into a spider web, right

behind. The black ant, voracious, spirals up the sink to the slimy gizzard

stuck in the limed valve, turmeric washed and blood drained,

nearly slipping on the speck of morning’s washed away rice.

All, part of my breakfast. All, part of me.

The wall tile, each square serving a plated piece of fruit,

an apple or a bunch of grapes, some covered in cathartic foam but all,

equally yellow. The floor mat, unoriginally black, sprouts

torn, strewn curry leaves greener than mother’s varicose.

The milk has soured into curdles, unmoving as a paralysed marriage.

The dirt wouldn’t settle down the drinking water (yet)

and the neighbour’s wife doesn’t have an answer to

her husband (yet) or his beatings (she says yet). The other

neighbour never comes out. The housefly, no more fluttering,

turns into another black dot in a wall, in this kitchen,

in a house where the provenance of three knots1

could hunt down poems like these, for the years

we passed and the next twenty to come.

The father is busy, ear against a different wall, listening.

Only the cement inside keeping us together,

as the ghost in his voice shouts

to ……wait for mother to come home.

1 three knots : refers to the solemnisation of a marriage, according to Hindu tradition.

Love of My Life | Priyanka Dewna

A secret has been hidden in my heart for years

Today I would like to confess in front of everyone.

Now not only my heart, but body got addicted to it

Yes.. it's love,love of my life

My body is fall in love too, it's Love at first sight,

It neither rich nor silver feed, I just fell for the food right out of the blue.

Yess,It's none other than "my food".

My soul is entangled, my stressed mind crave for the desserts,

My hands need to be full with cookies and a bowl of panipuri,

whenever someone reminds me that your life must be balanced.

This kind of my affection make me obsessed,

It's simplistic nature of love released me from the tension of being obese.

My nemesis are jealous of my love

Their Enviousness binds me more strongly with it ,

it's love bring me more calm and comfort.

But,

My doctor is worried

He said you must broke up with it

as soon as possible or sooner you would be buried.

My tension for calories are firm

But the anxiety of my body is affirm.

My heart is filled with rage

My mind is ready to fight,

A war is about to erupt

My love is going to be disrupt.

My body is also anxious ,

as exercise as an anti-depress is prescribed.

Running away from my love is difficult

As it always had been feeding me with appealing appetite.

Wanting fate- Aqsa Zafer

Wanting fate

A hazy surrounding I was looking to

and a depressing thought comes through.

What if I'm not present, there'll be no change,

the world will remain strange. Anyways, people linked to me,do not pay heed,

to my problems whereas I listen to them indeed.

I hide my solitudiness pretending I'm busy,

the pain is trapped, lately I became so dizzy.

I'm so in need of escapism,

and it's not just a aphorism.

This one is going to be a little dark,

you are going through my character arc.

This state is killing me and I want to die,

my soul wants to come out, I am not going to lie.

The only man who cared for me has gone forever,

my strength is running out, but I want him whatsoever.

Its been days, but I miss him a lot,

no one is going to fill up my father's spot.

Sympathized my many,but can feel none,

I just need a person to make sure I'm not done.

I do want to share these thoughts,

but I cannot,

everyone has some problem or maybe a lot.

With tears coming out,I write these lines,

wondering when my life will actually be mine's.

My acquaintance think of me as a joke,

they just don't know I'm so broke. Deprived of love I've always been, introspecting, I am a messed up teen. Happy life has always been a plea,

but now I want to set free.

अधूरा प्रेम | Suna Chettri

मिले थे उनसे तीन साल पहले,

उनके आंख और मुस्कान थे निराहले।

लगा कोही आए जीवन में,

जिसे अपना के सके।

कुछ नही पता था बारे में उसके,

फिर बी क्यों दिल ढूंढता था उसे ही।

किस्मत का खेल तो देखो,

जाना था कहा aur पौचे कहा।

सब ठीक था जीवन मैं,

खुश था आकला में।

लौट के फिर मुश्फिर आया,

पलबरका खुशाया साथ लाया।

सच्चा प्रेम का मतलब ही खोना हैं,

दो दिल मिलकर दूर होना है।

राधाथी मोहनके प्रेम में अधूरी,

में थी मुशारफीर के प्रेम में अधूरी।

Migrant Birds- Pitamber Kaushik

Autumnal equinox, the perch of the last bird

too much to bear, dips the branch into the dusk;

Little by little every day, we see the migrant birds

take away more and more of our Sun.

Migrant birds tread light on every branch,

wary not to drop a stray feather,

or lay an egg of a different colour

than the roosting flock,

or add a straw,

lest it be the one that broke the branch’s back.

They never build their nest,

not even in the grass,

lest it stick out like a sore thumb

or prick the foot trampling upon them.

Migrant birds bate off when no one is watching

the portion of the sky that they are occupying,

careful not to stir any cloud from its slumber.

Spring equinox, the flutter of the first bird

thaws the cold silence, spurring the Sun into action;

Little by little every day, we see the migrant birds

pushing the frontier of illumination further.

Migrant birds tread light on every branch,

for they carry the weight of our rising Sun

and the setting Sun of their lands

as well as the force of the winds therefrom.

They build their nests somewhere,

tucked away in the skies,

deep in the dreamy clouds,

from tender straws of wayward light.

Love | Vaishnavi Mate

Love

What an interesting topic

Love

What a suspicious topic to stare

Like the waves of happiness usher

Like the sea saddle it's beach

That beautiful love feels

Who i am to interfere in the vastness of sea

Blame game sounded

Relationship experts

What more when the creator plays

Its role through me

When destiny lands it's gold

In the lap of me

That's what love favours me

As i am not a mighty lawn

But love ushers through me

To tell a beautiful story of me

It's about the bean poured in soil but it's not just about the bean poured in the soil- Varsha Buchade

Hey I am just a bean

Little and tiny

Enough and shiny

Just a silly and shallow

Poured in the soil

to be a better fellow

Suddenly just heard

the sound of a noisy world

Just saw the lightning

Feeling little frightening

Cloudy world roar

can't hold it more

It might fall down

It will rain soon

I am just a bit happy

Filled with lots of joy

As I am experiencing

First Shower of happiness

showered by that cloudy boy

Heard a lot about the soothing rain

Will it remain always peaceful or will it drain

Wanna be with this beauty

There is so much to admire as it's pretty

But its not gonna be the still world

It's raining a bit more and more

Soil around me changing its shape

Now it's becoming mud and making me awake

It's making me a bit nervous

Landed surrounded by

lots of lots of mud of problems

Now it no longer feels pretty

It just become clumsy and shitty

Still just trying to be fit in

As a per the demands of surrounding

Deep down it's still not getting in

Was not strong enough to fit in

Struggle to fit in the mud continues

But there is the flood coming towards

Unaware bean and hit so hard

That desire to be fit in just flew

Now the bean is screaming

I am just suffocating

Let me breathe let me inhale

I just wanna to live little here

Just want to survive somewhere

Feeling of being drown is insane

Bean just flowing with flow

Having a faith that it will end up

End up at some point somewhere

Bean just landed at one place

Here the flood flow is little less

Finally the bean felt a little blessed

But desire to have the best

it just now ended being messed

At least now the bean can rest

Can hardly breathe, but it's enough than best

Resting bean now started admiring stone

Caring and protective having a shelter of stone

Bean just started realising

Importance of being strong

rather than being gentle

uneasy to break, and

impossible to dismantle

Bean is now no more shallow

so much filled in wanna to be hollow

Now no more it looks silly and shiny

Ended Up having scars and still tiny

Bean is now no more green

but becomes a little yellow

Don't wanna be a better fellow

It's just start of being a grown up fellow

Bean now attempted to be a stone

shouting all around, cursing the cloud

Why just the cloud still on beans head

Not letting go and not leaving to be little alone

Still waiting for bean to come up ahead

Will it mean, it will rain and flood again

Bean is watching silently raining

Just quite, Fed up of complaining

Cloud is still raining everywhere here and there

Might be raining is just nature of cloud

There is nothing special, and nothing

wrong about beans wear about

Gradually bean getting habitual of fate

Still trying hard to be strong and insane

But bean is bean, still discovering path

Ended up locked in its own shell of stone

Beneath the protective shelter of stone

Now only care remains for shelter of stone

that only gentle place remains all alone

But its getting week day by day

So even stone wants to surrender

the bean before the shelter shatter

Might be not to the same cloud

but to the rain as it's important

for the bean to start new life

And it will not gonna happen without rain

Will bean ever able to glorify the rain again

Or will it take so long to get over the fear

Might be wounds heal too early

so it will look fine to surrounding world

But it will take time for scars to fade over

But don't know exactly how much

Till then bean has to survive

with it's own within battle

Battle between the fear and

hope to beat that fear

Every passing day bean hides the fear

Try to breathe for survival and

wanted to be free from scary tears

But realisation of having scars

Make the bean a lot nervous

Damaged hope then leads towards

Desire to run away, run away from each

and everything comes in appearance

Will the running away from everything

Can be a solution to fade the scars

Or wherever the bean goes and run away

Scars will end up being with bean

Running away is not a solution

To heal the problem within

Role | Jayawanti Patil

A woman, a daughter, a mother, a mentor

life touches upon thy severalty.

You are one constant with

own chores and responsibility.

Sometimes, you need valor, ferocity,

little care, help and dignity.

Even the GOD must live thee

only with different complexity.

I know, you are above me

You embrace mortality.

You encompass the universe

I, a mere singularity.

Ironic, I feel, I am thee

oblivious to my own fragility.

Glorified for being you

I smile at its vanity.

Still, I trade between thee

endlessly judged for compatibility.

Often, I want to be without thee

relentlessly questioning my individuality.

Role, such is thy nature that

I do not understand thee.

Even if I ceased to be

you prevail till eternity.

The Moon | Aadya Thakkar

People say that once you acquire the moon

It's marks become visible

But who is going to tell them

That the marks have been visible all along

That I have lived each day

Staring at the moon

Admiring those divine marks

Who's going to tell them

That the marks are the things that make it beautiful in the first place

The marks are the thing

that made me chase

Who's going to tell them

That if the marks weren't visible

Then it wouldn't be so beautiful

If the marks weren't visible

Then it would've seemed something alien ,

Something far away

And maybe I would have not even looked it's way

Those are the scars of the moon

Of the relentless battles

It has won and it has lost

Those are its insecurities

That have come and gone

These marks are the things

Which make us normal.

Our worries , our fears , our insecurities

This is everything we should embrace

Because without these

We wouldn't be human in the first place

Stagnated wings- Aiswarya K P

A caged bird flew once

Left behind a silver cage and love

to jungle by shocking minds

everyone inquired why

got no answer, assumed Wild

some sympathized it

for being a pray to vultures

To everyone's surprise, it came back

they came to know that the

bird don't have a place where it belongs

even though as a precaution they cut down its wings

but then after that its wings stop sprouting

no one inquired why

cause it made them at ease

bird continued living with the stagnated wings.

Give you the moon | Ujjwala Padala

Love never felt truer or more surreal till you caressed my face with the softest touch, brushing away a few tresses, to catch the sun shining in its most radiant self, on my face. Love flows from every pore of your ever beautifully made body, love is you, love is all about you, love is the happiest echo of your laugh, love is being wrapped in your arms, losing count of days. Love has always been coming home to a person i love more than anything in this world. Love is having messy hair and beds not made. Love is lip stained coffee mugs kissed, minimal grocery shopping and electricity bills. Love is domestic bliss and in failed attempts at gourmet cooking. Love is in holding your hand through chaotic roads and

dampened pavements, ecstatic chatter and comfortable silence. Love is in undone shoelaces and cupping your face with the warmth of my palms. Love is the heartfelt solace in the sound of your voice, for it is my favorite song.

Love is a blossomed garden of salmon pinked lilies, for the angel that brings tangerine sunsets in me to life. Love resides in them cognac eyes, treasuring reminiscences a million, belonging to each other in universes infinite. Love is detailed anamnesis, feisty passion, a true sentiment of togetherness and lasting empathy. Love is the yellow umbrella of this mundane universe.

Love, just like salt in the ocean, exists in the deepest crevices of bone, us mortals can only comprehend so much. Love is flawed, yet one of the most beautiful things that make us feel alive. "The fire can't burn me, i have been set ablaze many too often, the ocean can't suppress my might for i have been

drowning all along, but oh darling, you can rip my heart open for i have never known love, before you".

you and i, share one sky.

Walk of Hope | Mitali Sadana

Sometimes

While walking I follow my shadow

As if I am on a chase,

Hoping for good times ahead

Sometimes I walk with grace.

I pretend to leave everything behind while walking sometimes

Like I'm part of a race,

I walk so slow at times

Just to see if I'm leaving any trace.

Just to catch up with you

Sometimes I change my pace,

And when nothing seems to help

I just walk and walk

Just to get through the crazy days.

थोडंसं जगायचं राहून गेलंय !- Pratik Parkhi

एका मागून एक अगणित क्षण निघून गेले,

श्वास प्रश्वासाचे चक्र अव्याहत चालूच आहे,

कधी सुखाची श्रावणी पांघरून दिवस आले,

कधी दुःख पिपाणी वाजवत निघून गेले,

अनेक नको नकोशा बऱ्याच हव्या हव्याशा,

मूक अनुभवांचं डबकं मनाच्या तळाशी साचलंय,

राहून राहून सारखं वाटतंय कि अजूनही,

थोडंसं जगायचं राहून गेलंय !

आयुष्य यज्ञातल्या लाकडांसारखं असतं,

सतत धगधगत राहणं इतकंच आपलं काम,

राख होणार म्हणून विझवून घ्यायचं नसतं,

प्रखरतेने पेटून सभोवतालच्या काळोखाला भेदायचं असतं,

अश्रू हृदयाला कमकुवत बनवत जातात,

आठवून पहा कुणाकुणाला सुखवायचा राहून गेलंय,

इतरांच्या जीवनाची कळी फुलवताना स्वतःसाठी मात्र,

थोडंसं जगायचं राहून गेलंय !

वाटा कितीही धूसर दिसू लागल्या तरी,

इच्छाशक्तीच्या जोरावर बुब्बुळांना ताणायचं असतं,

अंधारात हरवून जायची भीती सर्वांनाच असते,

म्हणूनच सूर्याला कवेत घेण्याचं धाडस करायचं असतं,

रिकामेच आलो होतो ओंजळ रिकामीच राहणार आहे,

प्रवासात उगाच चिंता कशाला कि माझं काय हरवलंय,

जे काही जमवलंय ते देऊन जातांना,

थोडंसं जगायचं राहून गेलंय !

अव्यक्त मनाला व्यक्त व्हायला सगळेच सांगतात,

कोणासमोर व्हायचं हे मात्र आपणच ठरवायचं असतं,

अपघातांची भीती वाटण्यात गैर काहीच नाही,

पण मन मात्र जुन्या जखमा भरायला वेळ मागत असतं,

प्रत्येक श्वास मोकळाच मिळावा असा अट्टाहास कधीच नव्हता,

अधूनमधून गुदमरणाऱ्या छातीला लळा लावायचं राहिलंय,

द्वेषाचे मळे उखडून प्रेमाच्या गर्द वनराईत,

थोडंसं जगायचं राहून गेलंय !

एकाकी - Pragati

वो दमकता चंद्र पूरा भी अकेला

और आधा भी अकेला

दृढ़ खड़ा होता है नीले आसमां में

कौन बोलो पा सका निज साथ

इस निर्मम जहां में।

देखती धरती व गृह नक्षत्र सारे

है अकेला सूर्य भी अपने सहारे

जीवन का हो संचार

मृत्यु भी उसी में

फिर भी नियति यूं है

के उसके अंश से सब है

नही पर वो किसीमे

चमचमाता चाहे हो तारों का मेला

या अनिल हो बावरी,

चहुंँ ओर हो अंबर सजीला

कोई तेजस मध्य में अक्षत खड़ा है

हो सभा मदमस्त वो संतत अड़ा है

है यदि उल्लास, अंतर भी सभा में

कौन बोलो पा सका निज साथ

इस निर्मम जहां में।

The Weeping Willow- Pratyus Mohapatra

The silent Autumnal winds howled with delight.

They gave me chills but they gave others fright.

Sometimes the air tasted sweet, while other times stale,

But tonight was the night that there was such a gale.

Alone was I with naught but book,

Save the shelter of the far-away nook,

And such company as the wind who stole all,

From the tiny leaves to the branches tall.

Encompassed in a ghastly fog,

Nearly tripping over that rotten log,

To the haven whence none hath sung,

As loudly as the frigid rain fell and flung.

As moonlight shone through a cloud,

Whilst light it gave, still I was cowed,

By shadows and the relentless claws from the trees,

That stung me as harshly as a swarm of bees.

Hither and thither I wandered through,

Bent from pain, I tramped on true.

Meager though was my last meal,

I still scampered through the ether, now a dark teal.

Haunted looked the woods tonight.

Animals howled on the left, and screeched to my right.

The woods spoke in a somber tune,

“Death lies beyond for the loon”.

Wearily marched on did I,

While the trees promised that I would die.

“They’re just trees,” I muttered.

“What do they know?” I sputtered and stuttered.

Breathlessness overtook me and so I came to a halt,

And I scanned my coat for a wooden vault.

Upon locating it, I swatted for the lantern that hung by hook,

Found it, and paraded on to read my book.

Albeit not before I took a match,

And opened the lantern’s silver latch.

I struck the stick unto flame,

And lit the wick all the same.

I tossed the matchstick right aside,

Into the river crossing that stretched far and wide.

As one fire died the other burned bright,

Illuminating the dreary night.

Still I marched on, now with flame,

Whilst on the book flickered a name:

Edgar A. Poe, glittered the book,

As I crossed another bridge over the brook.

Now with more vigor I moved along,

As the winds chilled further and grew terribly strong.

And then I slowed to climb a hill,

With the treacherous path only those with strong will

Dared to climb at such an hour.

And with the weather so very dour.

All to read my very old book,

Alone and tucked away in my far-away nook.

Soon, to the top I had approached,

And just then a claw had broached

My skin as I bled through my cloak,

Just as my candle decided to smoke.

Behind me howled the wolverines,

With intention to rip me to smithereens.

And just then I backed into a tree,

As the beasts moved in and cornered me.

But then the winds that stung me so much,

Pushed the willow’s branches with their harsh touch,

Into a wolverine with such a force

That the rest followed its downward course.

And then I sighed a breath of relief,

For a while, however brief,

Before tumbling into a deep, deep sleep,

Forgetting entirely about my book, as the willow continued to weep.

I miss you mother- Krishna Chaturvedi

I have heard 100 different stories about you,

of how creative, sharp and fearless you were.

I think I inherited all of it from you.

But I might not be doing justice to what you could have taught me.

That fearless part of me,

has started to dwindle over the years.

I look at your photographs

creating my own stories

of what might have happened

To a woman who could light up the room full of people.

In my head, I am always starstruck!

But the answers I get from people,

are just not enough to mend the knots in my stomach.

I was taught how to spell 'schizophrenia' when I was 10 years old,

not knowing the what's and how's and why's of the this world.

I could not wrap my head around it then,

I can not fathom how it can make you so distant from me, ever.

Everything is temporary,

but this is my hardest forever.

I wish I could complain about the world, have you as a shield

and sleep right beside you knowing it can not get any better.

Instead I see you sitting in front of me

talking to imaginary beings,

like they have been your best daughters.

and today, I miss you mother.

A Man In Tears | Manalicha Bezbaruah

I asked you to explain to me the reason behind your wrath,

Something that occluded your throat, making you run out of breath.

I could sniff out the insecurities latent behind your poise,

Dribbling fears fading into an unheard scream without noise.

How did you assume I will fall in love only with your valiance,

When I am ready to love every scrap of yours whether it's dark or filled with radiance.

Let the fountain of grief rush down your gallant-stoic eyes,

Giving a tough collision to your imposter strength without any compromise.

Breakdown in my arms without fearing I would judge you for your screams,

The silence will be nullified by your wails justifying my shadowy dreams.

The next morning you will wake up smiling at the ceiling and a little carefree,

Knowing that the only person who saw your unvarnished emotions was Me.

दर्पण- Siddhi Khater

दर में अपने ही छाया से मिलती हूं !

छाया में अपना ही दर–दर भटकती हूं !

शीशे से साफ पानी में भी

एक कंकर छिपा सा है

चुभन के एहसास से

उस कंकर को ढूंढ़ती हूं !

दर्पण में साफ़ जब ख़ुद से मिलती हूं

ख़ुद को ही मैं क्या अर्पण करती हूं?

काजल , कजरा श्रृंगार सारे

सज कर भीं फीके से लगते हैं,

वो कंकर के निशान

जब उभर के दिखते हैं।

हल्के पड़ गए है सब, बस मिटने की देर है

गेराहियो में मेरे एक तेरा ही तो अक्स है।

हर दर्पण पूछता , तुम्हारा क्या अर्पण है?

बिखरा हुआ हर अक्स मेरा

हर टूटे शीशे में दिखता है

संवारना किसे ये तो

मुझ पर निर्भर करता है ।

तार –तार हो कर भ तो

ये कितना सुंदर है।

जुड कर जो बना

ये मेरा ही तो चरित्र है!!

What never stays mine or yours is time | Vidhi Dhingra

I pronounce my joys and heave its essence

From every part of my heart, to create new.

Neither are those moments left behind,

Nor are those adhered to my feet.

I am now living in the moments' presence.

Just ahead of fulfilling my future's view.

Don't we all deserve a life, just to own?

Not to creep before our perfect moment,

Only to glow like the roses and the daisies

And the sunflower, soaking every ray within.

I still remember the days with the warmest time.

With the memories I wish were just mine.

Only me as a witness, not even time to pass by.

But now that this second is leaving me too,

I have learnt to live in it.

Breathe in it.

Also, be felt by this moment too.

For this time I would gladly say goodbye

To all the memories I could call only mine.