2nd Of June ( Tracks Of Blood )- Pamela De Souza

Life is too unpredictable,

All I do is just look for answers.

Is life a sweet looking mirage?

And death the unknown truth?

It was a devastating Saturday,

Dated 2nd of June.

Three trains collided,

Leaving many lives and families doomed.

All came alive and happy,

Imagining their trip to be great.

Bitter truth lies where,

Some of them had to go injured and dead.

Luggage scattered including dead bodies around,

Screams and cries of people vanished without much sound.

Dreams and lives shattered apart,

Vibes of sadness ruled the ground.

Wrong signal was deadly killer,

Near Bahanaga bazar railway station.

Lifeless bodies lay on the tracks,

Totally blood stained and silent.

Some people in panic state,

Goods too scattered in a messy way.

Silent cries of people could be felt,

Unheard miseries were buried deep inside the rail.

Though many stories lay unfinished,

Still we move with a hope of revival and new ones to bloom.

...

Three trains of which,

A goods train loaded with iron ore.

12841 Coromandel SF express,

And 12864 SMTV Bengaluru -Howrah express.

Killed two hundred ninety two and 1,175 people.

मोटी किताब छोटे पन्ने- Arsh Gupta

मैं मेरी किताब वो अपनी किताब बेताब हो पढ़ रहे थे |

मेरी थोड़ी ज़्यादा मोटी थी उसकी थोड़ी लंबी थी|

मुझे उससे पहले ख़तम करनी थी|

मै पन्ने गिन रहा था| एक पन्ने से दूसरे पन्ने का मेरा सफ़र काफ़ी छोटा था |

शायद उसका पन्ना शब्दो से भरा था, मेरे थोड़े खाली थे, मेरे पन्ने छोटे थे और उसके लंबे |

वो हर लाइन जी रहा था और मै पन्ने पी रहा था |

मुझे हर पन्ने मे बेचैनी थी| मुझे पन्ने नही किताब पढ़नी थी | उसने जान लिया था हर पन्ना ही किताब है |

मैने किताब ख़त्म करने की जल्दी मे पन्ने फाड़ दिए, वो हर पन्ने में रोज़ किताब ख़त्म कर रहा था |

मुझे हर ख़त्म होता पन्ना सुकून ज़रूर देता था पर हर पन्ना खाली लगने लगा था |

उसके लिए हर पन्ना नया था | मैं खुदको पढ़ने नही दे रहा था | और वो किताब बनता जा रहा था |

मुझे लगा शायद मेरी किताब ही खराब है,

पूछा तो पाया वो भी वही किताब पढ़ रहा था, बस मुझे मोटी और उसे लंबी लग रही थी |

And ,the monsoons have landed...- Deveani Suri

Scolding the prickly summers loud,

the whole sky is annexed by grey-clouds,

horrified with their thundering roar,

the birds also rush to their nest;as they are expecting downpour,

Banging out the doors and windows loudly,

boasting your picturesque beauty proudly,

waiting for your queen rain to come,

the angry clouds;like knights appear handsome,

welcoming the rain with great pomp and show,

the glaring lightning has made Sky to lit and glow,

And,yeah finally you have come O Monsoon!!!

after so many Sun and Moon,

embracing the Earth with your wet and icy winds,

you arise goosebumps as here and there winds swing,

Donning the crystal pure attire,

to every atom of my body;you have lit the fire,

disguising under fantasies and dreams,

to sense the icy-ness of your rain ;desires scream,

And,I am dancing to unravel the Nature's treasure,

viewing splashing of your pearl like chilled drops is of immense pleasure,

And,the Earth is relieved of its burns,

as to the new life drooped flowers and dried rivers return,

it's incredible to lie over the lush green grass,

to which you have imbued a new life and is now glittering like a glass,

Enjoying your beauty and wilderness at the same time,

while I usually dine,

give cuddles ,nostalgia and moments of perk,

which is perfect for a break from a hectic work.....

ನಿಶಾಚರಿ(Nishaachari)- Yashas Nagar

ನಿಶಾಚರಿ

ರಾತ್ರಿಶಿಫ್ಟಿನ ಕಣ್ಣು

ಕೆಂಪುದೀಪದ ಮೇಲೆ

ವಯಸ್ಸು ಮೂವತ್ತು ದಾಟಿಲ್ಲ, ಶುಗರ್ ಹತ್ತಿರ ಬಂದಿಲ್ಲ

ಮಂಡೆಪೂರ ಮಂಡಿನೋವು, ಕನಸಿಗೆ ಬಾವು

ಇವತ್ತಲ್ಲ ನಾಳೆ ಸೂರ್ಯನ ಹಲ್ಲುದುರಿಸುವೆ

ಅಡ್ಡಾಡೋಕೆ ಹತ್ತನೇ ಅಂತಸ್ತೇ ಬೇಕಾ!

ಹಳಸುವಾಸನೆ ಡಬ್ಬಿ, ಅರ್ಧಹೊಟ್ಟೆಯ ಬಾಟಲಿ

ಕೆಲಸಕ್ಕೆ ಬಾರದ ಕಡತ, ಕೈಮುರಿದ ಬೆಂಕಿಕಡ್ಡಿ

ಜೀವ ವಜೆಯಾದವರಿಗೆ ಇದೂ ಮಂದರವೇ, ಏನೀಗ!

21...20...19...

ಕೆಳಗಿಳಿಯುವ ಲಿಫ್ಟಿಗೂ

ಶುಕ್ರಶಿಷ್ಯರ ಕಂಡರೆ ಸಸಾರ

ಏಸಿಯಿದ್ದರೂ ಕಾಯುವಿಕೆಯ ಬಾಣಲೆ

"This is absurd! ಇವತ್ತೇ ಬರತ್ತಾ ಸಾರ್ ಏನ್ ಕತೆ!"

ಕಾಫಿಗೋ, ಡ್ರಿಂಕ್ಸಿಗೋ, ಚಾಟಿಗೋ,

ಇಲ್ಲಾ ಜಾತಕಕ್ಕೆ ಒದಗಬಹುದಾದ

ಹೆಣ್ಣುಮಗಳಾದರೆ ಒಂದು ಲೆಕ್ಕ

ಇವನ್ಯಾರೋ ಐಡಿ ತಿರುಗಿಸುತ್ತ ಗಡ್ಡ ಕೆರೆದವ

ತಲೆಯಲ್ಲಾಡಿಸುವ ಕರ್ಮ ನನಗಿಲ್ಲ

ಕಾಲುನವೆಗಿಂತ ಔಪಚಾರಿಕ ನಗೆ irritation

ಗಾಡ್! ಗಾಡೋ!

ಎಂಟಕ್ಕೇ ನೆಗೆದುಬಿದ್ದ ಹಾಗಿದೆ ನಾರದನ ಅಪರಾವತಾರ

ಸಿಗರೇಟು ಹಚ್ಚುವಂತಿಲ್ಲ(ಏನೋ ಸೆನ್ಸರ್ ಅಂತೆ)

ಬ್ಯಾಗಲ್ಲಿದೆಯೋ ಇಲ್ಲವೋ ನೆನಪಿಲ್ಲ

ಸುಖದ ಯಜ್ಞಕ್ಕೂ ಜೀತದ ಬೇಲಿ

ಮಾಂಸದ ಮುದ್ದೆಗೆ ತುಪ್ಪ ಒರೆಸಿ

ಕೈಲಾದಷ್ಟು ಬಿಸಾಕುವ ಹುಂಬತನ

ತಡೆಯಲು ಕೋದಂಡ ಬಂದರೆ ಬರಲಿ

ಹೆಚ್ಚೆಂದರೆ ಸಮುದ್ರದಾಚೆಗೆ ತಾನೇ

ಹಾರಲಿ, ಮೋಹನನ ಕಲ್ಪನೆಯಿಂದಾಚೆಗೆ

ಬೀಳಲಿ, ಸಂಸ್ಕಾರದ ಗಡಿಯಿಂದಾಚೆಗೆ

ಮಣ್ಣಾಗಲಿ, ಮಲೆಗಳ ಮತ್ತೊಂದಾಚೆಗೆ

18..17..16..

ಫೋನು ತಿವಿದ ಹಾಗಾಯಿತು, ಹಾಳುಭ್ರಮೆ

ಆಫೀಸು ಗ್ರೂಪು ಹೊದ್ದು ಮಲಗಿರಬೇಕು

ನಾಳೆಯಿಂದ ಒಂದುವಾರ ಅಜ್ಞಾತವೆಂದು

ಮೆಸೇಜು ಹಾಕಿಬಿಡಲಾ!

ಬಟ್ಟೆ, ಬಣ್ಣ, ರೂಪ, ಎತ್ತರ ಇದೇ ಸಾಕು

ಸತ್ತಾತ್ಮಕ್ಕೊಂದು ಹೊಸತನದ ಥಳುಕು

ಅಷ್ಟೇ!

ಈ ಪುಣ್ಯಾತ್ಮನ ಗಡ್ಡ ಇನ್ನೂ ಮಾಸಿಲ್ಲ

ಅದೇ ನಗು-ಅದೇ ಸಮಾಧಾನ

Optimism is a pandemic

ಮತ್ತೆ ಕ್ಯಾಬಿನ್ ಒಳಹೋಗಿ ಅಂಡೂರುವೆ ಸಾಯಲಿ

ನಾಳಿನ ಕೆಲಸಕ್ಕೆ ಇವತ್ತೇ ಮುಹೂರ್ತ

ಕತ್ತಿ ಮಸೆದರಷ್ಟೇ ರಕ್ತ

ಬೆರಳು ಸಮೆದರಷ್ಟೇ ಶಕ್ತ

ಮನಸೆಲ್ಲ ಇಲ್ಲೇ ಇದ್ದಮೇಲೆ

ಬೋನಸ್ಸು ಮೈನಸ್ಸು ಹೇಗಾದೀತು!

"ಟಿಣ್! ನಿಮಗೂ ಕೇಳಿಸಿತಾ?"

ಬೇಡಿಕೆ ಕೇಳಿ ಬ್ರಹ್ಮನೇ ಇಳಿದಿರಬೇಕು

ಆರು ತಿಂಗಳ ನಿದ್ದೆ, ಆರು ತಿಂಗಳ ಊಟ ಬೇಕೆನ್ನಿಸಿದರೂ

ನಾಲಿಗೆಯ ಮೇಲೊಂದು ಮಲಗಬೇಡ ಸರಸು, ದಮ್ಮಯ್ಯ!

15..14..13...

ಥತ್!

ಸದ್ದುಮಾಡಿದ ಪೊಟ್ಟಣ

ಮೇಲೆಹೋಗುವುದಂತೆ

ಮತ್ತೆ ಗಣಿತದ ಪಾಠ, ಜ್ಯೋತಿಷ್ಯದಾಟ

ಕೆದರಿದ ಕೂದಲ ಸರದಾರ ಸೂತ್ರ ಬರೆವಾಗ

ಇಲ್ಲೇ ಮೊಳೆಹೊಡೆದು ಕೂತ ಗುರುತು

ಮುಳ್ಳು ತಿರುಗುವುದು ಅನುಮಾನ

ಚುಚ್ಚುವುದೊಂದೇ ತೀರ್ಮಾನ

ರುದ್ರಾಕ್ಷಿ ಹಿಡಿದು, ಚಕ್ಕಳ ಬಲಿದು

ಹಿರಣ್ಯನಾಗುವುದೊಂದೇ ದಾರಿ

ಹುತ್ತ ಮೈಬೆಚ್ಚಗಿರಿಸೀತು, ಅಪ್ಸರೆಯ ಗೆಜ್ಜೆ ಮ್ಯೂಟಾದೀತು

ಒಳಗೂ ಅಲ್ಲ-ಹೊರಗೂ ಅಲ್ಲ

ರಾತ್ರಿಯೂ ಅಲ್ಲ-ಬೆಳಗೂ ಅಲ್ಲ

ಅಬ್ಬೇಪಾರಿ ಬದುಕು

ತೀಡೋ ಉಗುರು ಮಾತ್ರ ಹರುಕು-ಮುರುಕು

12..11..10..

ಸಾವಿರ ವರ್ಷದ ತಪಕೆ

ಕೊನೆಗೂ ಬಾಗಿಲು ಸರಿಯಿತಪ್ಪ!

ವಿಶೇಷವೇನಿಲ್ಲ ಬಿಡಿ

ಮೇಲೆ ಹೋದ ಹಾಗೇ ಕೆಳಗೂ ಹಾದಿ

ಕೆಳಬಂದಮೇಲೆ ಮತ್ತೆ ನೆಲವೇ ಆದಿ

ಅದೇ ಸಂಖ್ಯೆ,

ಅದೇ ಲೈಟು,

ಗಿಜಿಗುಡುವ ಕೊಟ್ಟಿಗೆಯಲಿ ಅದೇ ಸಗಣಿಸೆಂಟು

ಮೆಸೇಜು ಬಂದಿರಬೇಕು

ಮತ್ತೆ ಮೇಲೇರಬೇಕೇನೋ!

1..2..3..

The Horse and Its Human- Vidushi Bhaskar

Every once in a while

I face this dilemma

Whether to look out

For the human

Or the horse

He seems to own

Both of them

Working all day long

Carrying tourists on the small carriage

In the town

Also owned by humans

Although made on the land of nature

Which was supposed

To be owned by all

I, too, came to this town

From another such town

As a tourist

I, too, wanted to ride that small carriage

When approached by the horse's human

I was waiting

I was looking

Only at that little, fragile horse

One feet red swollen

Veins visible on its forehead

Its eyes half covered

It saw me looking, it looked back

Once or twice

I wonder if it sensed what I felt

As horses are said to feel a human's emotions

I wonder if it knew

How bad I felt

Sharing the species

With its human

I almost made up my mind

I won't participate in this tourist activity

But I saw the human come to the horse

Caressing it, he said something I couldn't hear

It seemed to be words of affection and care

By the look on his face

Not anymore, did they seem like

The slave and its owner

But more like companions

In the journey of life

In need of one another

It clicked me in that moment

It was not as easy as it looked

It was too much blame to put on that human

The blame of caging freedom

Of that horse and that human

Of us all

Lies on all of humankind

Not only on that single poor human

As little and fragile as his horse

Weary and Sweaty

Trapped in poverty

Yet he smiled as he caressed his horse

Gave it some greens to eat

So then I decided

To ride that small carriage

Not because, ten minutes ago, it was a desire of mine

But because, I wanted to give more of that smile and greens

To that human and that horse

I wanted my family to be happy

So we rode and paid

We had our fun and they had their livelihood

But when I look back

I can see

I could've done better

I could've given what little I had

Without riding as I didn't need to

It could've been a break

For that human and his horse

If only I could've been

A little more considerate

If only I could've been

A little more aware

Of my own principles

Now all I can do is wait

For that next little moment

And do better

- V

वो चार दिन- Dheeraj Joshi

ख़ूबसूरत थे

एक अरसे की दौड़ धूप के बाद

फुर्सत की धूप में

वो चार दिन

ख़ूबसूरत थे

ढेरों उतार चढाव के बाद

राहत भरी मुस्कान में

वो चार दिन

ख़ूबसूरत थे

किराये के मकान के बाद

अपने घर के आँगन में

वो चार दिन

ख़ूबसूरत थे

तन्हाई के लम्हों के बाद

परिवार की छाँव में

वो चार दिन

ख़ूबसूरत थे

घर आने की ख़ुशी, और

जाने के गम के बीच में

वो चार दिन

shelling out- Sagarika Rastogi

(I)

shards of glasses lying all around

like a pseudo labyrinth that has wrapped itself

on the dusty walls, creaking floor boards and mouldy cupboards

with it's rough, crassy texture

swallowed this room, this bed and me.

(II)

the medicine cabinet starts overflowing

for the stack of medicines and syrups

and ugly tasting capsules

fill up the space,

the aura/room/my insides

with sickness, scarcity of life

and the absolute need for a bowl of hot soup

like mom used to make.

(III)

scrutinizing myself in a "43×13" mirror

i find myself dressed almost like my

favorite princess, like the one in the story books

with long, chestnut brown hair, big blue eyes and

a dazzling smile that always ends up winning the prince's heart

"almost" because i don't look half as charming and suave as she did, as they all do

everywhere, in all the storybooks, in all the shows

(IV)

i see cellulite dripping from my arms, eye bags falling from my face, almost repulsive tummy rolls, unable to withstand the sight of beauty im so used to not seeing,

my shoulders stiffen, gut tightens

and i can feel squirrels greeting me,

jumping, scraping & scratching my insides

like an old friend, playing between my ribs, crawling up my throat, strumming my fingers

as i struggle to let go of the monster I've just witnessed in the mirror

the shell of a human being, picture of whom deserves to be in a wanted poster

with hideous background and an equally hideous face.

(V)

drenched in the smell of nicotine

with half bitten nails and yellow fingertips

eyes sunken inside the socket, pale blue lines coloring my face and frail bones,

i pick yet another pack of cigarettes,

take a long, comfortable puff

and let the smoke sit on my face for five seconds

before it dissipates into thin air;

the only form of touch I've been allowing myself these days,

and think,

"how could life get any better

than almost drowning in a semi sized bathtub with a glass of róse"

(VI)

half eaten vegetables and shredded paella

is what decorates my plate

the sauce spilled all over and the pizza crust half smashed, half gone;

i sit in the middle of the table, feeling more

like a vessel of a person than a person itself.

Whispers of Destiny: The Night Our Paths Intertwined- Paramvir Singh

In the depths of a Bangalore night,

At 3:30 am, stars shining bright,

A Friday in November, a moment unseen,

Destiny beckoned, weaving a scene.

In my humble abode, I lay awake,

As fate set the stage for a connection to make,

Four friends in nostalgia's embrace,

Seeking solace in a familiar space.

They rang my bell, mischievous delight,

But quickly vanished into the night,

Unaware that my eyes were wide open,

Hopeful for a chance, a word unspoken.

From the balcony, one friend remained,

While the others scampered, playfully unrestrained,

I asked the lingering soul, with a curious plea,

"Who rang the bell?" He pointed upward, you see.

I cast my gaze upon the rooftop high,

Where relief embraced every passerby,

And among them, a girl with a radiant glow,

Assuming my origin, she exclaimed, "Delhi, I know!"

A bottle of rum, a shared camaraderie,

In my humble abode, stories set free,

He spoke of a connection lost, a bittersweet tale,

I urged him to move on, to let his heart prevail.

Two boys, two girls, their spirits bright,

Whispers of "vibe check ticked" in the night,

They reveled in the aura that I emitted,

And I offered a melody, my ukulele fitted.

"Dil Beparwah" echoed amidst the rain,

An enchanting harmony, a bond's refrain,

Seeking shelter from the storm above,

They sought refuge within the chambers of affection and trust.

In my room, the bond grew strong,

Snapchat's memories, moments of song,

Old videos of laughter and cheer,

We shared our pasts, overcoming any fear.

An almost perfect night, etched in time,

As destiny's design began to chime,

A connection forged, a feeling so rare,

A glimpse of a future we would soon share.

As the clock struck six, the moment did wane,

They bid farewell, their departure a pain,

Yet in that parting, hope did ignite,

For they left behind a flickering light.

The girl, with her home so near,

Offered her contact, with a smile so clear,

A promise of walks, companionship anew,

Little knowing the depths of what would ensue.

And so, in the stillness of that morn,

The story unfolded, a bond was born,

A single encounter, a lasting decree,

That led us down a path we were meant to see.

From that first meeting, a tale did start,

In the chambers of my ever-hopeful heart,

For a gentle spark had taken its hold,

In the memories and moments that would forever unfold.

So, cherish that night, that moment so pure,

For it birthed a connection that would endure,

And as time weaves its tapestry grand,

May your bond flourish, hand in hand.

Cry of death- Vyshnavee Diwakar

When pigs fly

when villains cry

cry to be freed

cry for the end of greed

greed binds us all

greed beckons our fall

fall from glory

fall in every story

story of life

story of strife

strife that eats souls

strife that leaves holes

holes of blood and gore

holes on a kid at the store

store that had his favourite toy

store meant joy to that silly boy

boy who died hearing the doorbell chime

boy whose father said “having guns isn’t a crime”

crime committed by another boy of twelve

crime that his mother will forever delve

delve and grieve to find what changed

delve in disgrace for a life deranged

deranged by her own nurturing hands

deranged, he now haughtily stands

stands in front of an eminent jury

stands bursting with people’s fury

fury that could ignite a stray spark

fury fuelled by all things dark

dark is a shade in every living breed

dark like the sensational words we read

read and consume to quench our lust

read only to see who shares it first

first to comment

first to lament

lament for the sake of byte-sized fame

lament just to quickly pass on the blame

blame it on the unsuspecting mothers

blame it on the greed of others

others who passed the safety laws

others who forgot human flaws

flaws that are part of the genetic code

flaws that seep out from bearing all that load

load that seemed deceptively bantam at birth

load weighing us down like gravity on earth

earth where we drew our first shuddering breath

earth covers us all when we are interred in death

death forced is a disease left to spread

death is now a statement to instil dread

dread

spread.

Author's note: This is an attempt at creating a blitz poem. It comprises of fifty lines that begin with a cliched phrase, the last word of the second line becomes the first word of the third and fourth line, the last word of the fourth line becomes the first word of the fifth and sixth line and so on. The last words of line forty eight and forty seven become the forty ninth and fiftieth line respectively. I have infused end rhymes to make it a mellifluous read.

A moonlit night - Anshul Thakur

Ambling through lush in a moonlit night,

Captivating picturesque through my eyes.

Stars were gleaming like never before,

Ornamenting the venust panoramic sky.

Zephyr tunes in with silence,

Whispering to coalesce "you in I".

Heard the nightingale playing the twine,

Inkling in me placid insight.

Flowers were dancing under the welkin,

With moon and stars fostering this into a chimeric ball night.

And there came the clouds, unearthing assemblance,

Icing was the moon light mellow touch, cherishing their oneness.

Strolling in meadows, was adding value to life.

And soon the greenery caught my eyes.

Trees were swaying exuding love,

Branches beckoned me with ceaseless caress.

Inconceivable relief from hay was hailing,

Beauteous green was dispersing endearment.

Amid the bush lied a flowery bed.

I overlooked thorns to hearten it's jewel toned aromatic vividness.

"Imperfectly perfect is the core of very being",

This enlightenment about life wisdom creation was preaching.

Shortly perplexed by a firefly, when it bumped into,

Yearned ensuing, I pursued.

It took me to it's empyrean cosmos,

Where millions of fireflies were illuminating,

Illuminating as if seraphic divinity lurked the earth.

This seems the terrain of mystical beings,

Comely than the cherry blossoms of spring ever could be.

There was movement in stillness,

Confabulation in silence,

Refining my soul with piousness amid morality.

Solemnly the nature tattletaled about it's ethereal beauty,

Acknowledging that darkness can both defy and define vivacity.

I once again looked up at moon with gratitude,

As I walked back home leisurely.

क्षितिज- Priti Kulshrestha

मैं धरती ठहरी हुई सी

तू अंबर उड़ता हुआ सा।

दोनो एक दूसरे की चाहत में पागल ।

आसमां समाना चाहे धरती के आंचल में ,

धरती उड़ना चाहे आसमां के प्यार में।

पर!!!

प्यार बेशुमार होते हुए,

दोनो का मिलना असंभव ।

तपना होगा उनको इस तपिश में ,

जलना होगा उनको इस कशिश में।

दूर होते हुए भी,

आसमां का प्यार बरसता है ,

धरती के ऊपर बारिश बन कर ।

धरती समा लेती है उसका प्यार ,

अपने सीने में धड़कन बनाकर ।

एक चाहत दोनो की!

कभी तो मिलेंगे?

कभी तो एक होगे ? उस क्षितिज की तरह।

जहां दोनों एक दूसरे में समाए नजर आते है ।

- 💕 प्रीत दिल से 💕

अहिल्या के राम से प्रश्न - Anil Kumar Singh

छल किसने किया और कौन गया छला

अपराध किसका और दंड किसको मिला

मेरे इस प्रश्न का उत्तर आपको ही देना है

राम यदि आपने बनाया मुझे नारी

नहीं तो बना देना. मुझे पुनः एक बार शिला

क्या दोष था मेरा,

मैंने तो जीवन भर

अपने सारे कर्तव्य निभाये

भूलकर अपनी सारी कामनाएं सारी इच्छाएं

हारी भी तो मैं देह की अतृप्त कामना से

जो जागी थी छली इंद्र के गौतम वेष में

स्पर्श से ही ,कर रही थी तब भी मै

जैसे अपना कोई कर्तव्य निर्वाह ही

छल कामी इंद्र का था पर मैं तो

समझी थी गौतम को ही

मैं पूछती आज मैं आपसे हे राम

क्या मेरी निज इच्छाओं का 

देह की कामनाओं का

कोई मूल्य न था

सत्य ज्ञात था समस्त गौतम को भी

देखा था स्वयं उसने अपने ही नेत्रों से

फिर ये दंड, ये शाप मुझे  ही क्यों

कि प्रस्तर खंड सा हो जाएं

मेरा हृदय

जिसमें न जागे कोई इच्छाएं

शिला सी हो जाये देंह मेरी

जिसमें न जागे कोई सुप्त कामनाएं

वो ऋषि गौतम जिनके लिए

मैंने अर्पित सारा जीवन कर डाला

मुझे किंचित समझ न पाएं

मैंने तो अपने सारे संबंध

पूर्ण निष्ठा से थे निभाये

गौतम ने अपने नेत्रों से

देखा और समझा था

इंद्र का छल सारा

इंद्र तो था ही छली और कामी

शरीर मेरा था मात्र लक्ष्य उसका

पर गौतम तो थे परम ज्ञानी

क्यो़ं भूल और अपराध में

अंतर न कर पाये

जो घटा जो हुआ

वो एक भूल थी मात्र

या भूल भी क्यों

मैं तो गई थी छली

चलो मानती हूं मैं

क्षणिक क्रोध के वशीभूत

दे डाला था शाप मुझे

पर सत्य का क्या उपरांत भी

उन्हें तनिक  ज्ञान न हुआ

सुधार लूं भूल अपनी

ये भी भान न हुआ

क्यूं न ली एक बार भी सुधि मेरी

क्या क्रोध की ज्वाला में

जल जाना ही ऋषि कर्म था

क्या सहधर्मिणी का  त्याग, निष्ठा भूल

उसकी एक त्रुटि को आधार मान

जीवन पर्यंत शिला बनाना

ही श्रेष्ठ पति धर्म था

मैं तो गयीं थी ठगी

अपराधी तो इंद्र था

फिर गौतम मेरे लिये क्यों न लड़े

क्यों  न रहे साथ मेरे खड़े

क्यो़ं न मेरे लिये न्याय मांगते

समस्त संसार से टकराये

इंद्र के जीवन को क्यो़ं न नर्क बना पाये

अपने तपोबल से क्यो़ं न

उसका सिंहासन हिला पाये

सत्य ये है

कि मेरे प्रति

ऋषि गौतम का आचरण

एक सामान्य पुरुष का आचरण

जिसमें सत्य अपनाने का साहस नहीं

भूल क्षमा का भाव ही नहीं

पुरुषोचित परंपरावादी सोच से

ऊपर उठने का साहस ही  नहीं

एक नयी दृष्टि ही नहीं

कहूं क्या कायर उन्हें,

ये शब्द भी मुझे लगता

उनके लिए अब कठोर नहीं

हे राम मैं हूं ऋणी

कि आपके स्पर्श से

मेरी शिला सी देह जीवंत हो उठी

अब फिर उठेगी कामनाएं नव

अब उर में जागेगें भाव

देह में उभरेंगे पुनः

कामनाओं के ज्वार

पर मेरे विगत वर्षों को कौन लौटायेगा 

मेरा न्याय तो हुआ न अब तक

मुझे न्याय कौन दिलायेगा

मैंने काटी इस निर्जन में

एकाकी कितनी नीरव निशाएं

प्रस्तर खंड था मेरा शरीर

मृत थीं सारी कोमल भावनाएं

क्यों मैं ही रही अभिशापित

परित्यक्त परित्याज्य निंदनीय

ढोती हुई

अपमान ,उपेक्षा, तिरस्कार

लेकर

जीवन भर की ग्लानि

जीवन भर का उपहास

मैं ही क्यों जीती रही

इतने वर्षों शीश झुकाये

अपराधी देवराज घूमता रहा

गर्वोन्नत शीश उठाये

देवताओं को भी पता ये

सारा दृष्टांत था

फिर भी कहां मुझे न्याय मिला

इंद्र के उऋंखल आचरण में

मौन सहमति  थी क्या देवों की भी?

मुझे नहीं चाहिए

करूणा और दया

मुझे चाहिए न्याय

इंद्र और गौतम दोनों ही

हैं मेरे अपराधी

इंद्र तो था छली और पराया

देह मेरी थी लक्ष्य उसका

पर गौतम तो मेरे  अपने थे

मेरे अपराधी गौतम अधिक

जिन्होनें मेरी वर्षों की

त्याग तपस्या निष्ठा का

ये मोल दिया

मैं थी संसार में सबसे रुपसी

जब गौतम के साथ बंधी थी

परिणय बंधन में

उस समय कोई भी मुझे

अपना सकता था

मैं चाहती तो किसी को भी अपना सकती थी

पर जब मैंने बंधन स्वीकारे तो निभाये

तब भी जब गौतम डूबे रहे थे

मात्र ऋषि कर्म निभाने में

मेरी इच्छाओं मेरी कामनाओं

का उनके सम्मुख कुछ मोल न था

पर मैने कभी न दी उलाहना

न भटकी कभी पथ से अपने

आपके चरण रज से राम कहने को तो मिल गई

मुक्ति मुझे पर अब क्या ये जग सहज मन से

मुझे अपना पायेगा

क्या मुझे मेरा खोया हुआ  आत्मसम्मान

लौटा पायेगा

क्यो़ं वही रूढ़िवादी परंपराएं

वही रुढ़िवादी सोच

क्यों वही सड़ी गली

न्याय व्यवस्थाएं

जो ऐसे अपराधों मे भी

दोषी को दोषी न कह सकें

नारी को ही दोषी ठहराएं

पुरूष प्रायः छूट ही जाये

उसके हिस्से में तो

पीड़ा अपमान  उपहास

तिरस्कार कभी न आये

ये दोहरी सोच

ये दोहरा मापदंड किसलिए

ये कौन सा है न्याय

कि अपराधी तो बच जाये

और पीड़ित जीवन भर

दंड उठाये

तुम मेरे इन प्रश्नों के

उत्तर दो

तुम ही अब न्याय करो

क्या अपराध मेरा था

जो ये दंड मुझे मिला

क्या मैं सचमुच इस दंड की भागी थी

प्रश्न कुछ और भी हैं जब गौतम ने न ली

वर्षों सुध मेरी कर दिया मेरा त्याग

तो क्या अब पूर्ण स्वतंत्र हूं

अपना जीवन स्वेच्छा से जीने के लिये

कर सकती हूँ क्या मैं

पूर्ण अपनी सारी कामनाएं

सारी इच्छाएं

क्या मैं जी लूं अपना जीवन

बंधन मुक्त

अपराधबोध मुक्त

मात्र अपने लिए

हे राम बहुत सुना आपके बारे में

समाज में पुरुषों और स्त्रियों के लिये

कुछ सम मापदंड बनाये

करें कुछ  इस न्याय व्यवस्था का

मेरे प्रश्नों के उत्तर दें

हो सके तो मुझे दिलवायें न्याय

यदि इन प्रश्नों के उत्तर संभव न हों

तो मुझे पुनः शिला बनाये

जानती हूं मैं

अहिल्या की इस कथा में सदा

गौरवगान होगा आपकी चरण रज का

मेरी पीड़ाओं ,इंद्र के अपराध

गौतम के कायरता पूर्ण आचरण(मेरी दृष्टि से)

का कभी उल्लेख भी न होगा

ः

The precipice of poetry that seeks redemption - Hridya Sharma

Callous whispers that uproar the fear in my mind,

Bounty tales of my existence may cease to be left behind.

Before the pen has surmounted the sufficient ink,

Off the high piles of books, the characters beheld,

I stand forlorn, under the brink of adversity,

About to sink.

Blest with the beauty of healing humans,

With parts of me that help them emancipate

From their miseries, from their violent incapability to communicate.

The mortality of my being twisted in the trap of virtue,

Traces of metaphors that personify the true,

Every word of my soul pledged to sinew,

For death and I had a rendezvous

Shielding under the symbolism of this fleeting breath,

I draw under the apparel of the hidden depth.

Unsmeared touches that shattered the untold lines,

The syllables recorded silently scarred my spine.

Scarred by the lustful eyes,

They say every dead thing needs more mourning

But nothing left to mourn in me is alive.

Galloping in strides, I danced away,

To be written in a sonnet that announces its way.

With his hands, he tore me into pieces apart,

I held my breath to quench the pain in my heart.

Blest are those who can unconcernedly find,

To be at peace with the title in their mind.

For chaos defined the context of my muse,

The looms of grey highlighted the mighty blue.

I was the poem that was in love with a poet, yearning to be his dream

Alas, all I am left with is grief, the continuation of love that ended in my screams.

Thus, unseen from the world I lie,

In a utopian land where I see the unknown sky.

Kneeling in gratitude unlamented I wish to stay,

I am poetry that seeks redemption,

Steal me away from the starry ray,

Rock the ages, cleft for me,

Let me write myself in the precipice of thee.

-Hridya

Starseed- Alfia Saini

It has taken me too long to love this body:

My lush oasis in a barren dune.

Though I still pick it apart,

Cut it with words,

To bleed through my art,

I relish the kiss of the sun on my face in the bright afternoon.

My soul is a violent tempest,

Raging over a wildflower fallow.

And though often I feel that what's burning within

shines out through frosted glass,

It is my feet that bind me to the hallowed Earth and my fingers that brush through the grass.

And my soul alone could not feel the sting

Of the frigid winter freeze,

Nor my spirit inhale the sweet blossoms of spring

That are ferried to me by the breeze.

Then it matters not that this vessel will fade,

So insidious thoughts I shall spurn.

It is from the atoms of stars I was made,

And to the stars I will return.

Leaves- Anjela Patrick

Today I sat down under a tree nestled amongst the charming, lush flowers

On a soil made of the lived, remembered, and forgotten memories.

The enchanted trail of all the lost.

Today the leaves were the album.

A gallery of pictures that a camera could never incarcerate They hold the moments of when my heart knew a song.

A melody that did not hurt but healed

The flowers whispered to me some secrets.

Treasures of bliss that were locked with the gnawing mysteries of the

unknown.

Is this the solace I was chasing?

I have saved this place in my heart. And when you are found but lost in uncertainty,

When you have something but your hand is still empty,

When the mirror you see reflects the fiction of yourself you have in your head,

When you fall into helplessness,

When you lack the confidence to face your tear-streaked face,

When your thread of fate feels entangled,

When you feel you've lost you,

Ask me the way, and you'll find me beside you.

I cannot be the light you need

But I will try to fix your frayed parts and orchestrate a new beginning,

I will lend you the shoulder I needed

And we will have a leaf that will tell the story we shared,

Woes of the Moon- SUMBUL MOIN

The Moon hangs low

Like mistletoe

Precariously perched on cloudy arms

Of Night’s majestic charm.

In awe

Of the raw

Brazenness floating

In the air, gloating

About their nocturnal fling.

Stars shimmer through

Branched boughs

To witness

Them both in distress

For the union, though grand,

Can never stand

Up to the laws of nature who

Betrothed regal Night

To faded Morning Light.

Still, each day

The pining Moon

Eagerly awaits the gloom

Of their transient forever.

The skies raise a toast

While they make the most

Of numbered moments together

Gently shedding tears

Pearled perfectly in between layers

Of earnest prayers

To a God who pays no heed.

Finally, at dawn

The Night retreats in lovelorn plight

Away from the Moon

Into the arms of Morning Light.

The sky is beautiful, not anymore- Bitupan Das

The sky is beautiful, Not anymore

A beautiful night sky

Not anymore

Because you’re not here with me

To show me the magic

Through your eyes.

Tonight I can’t see the stars

Maybe because there are dark clouds in my eyes

And slowly it’s raining

Raining sadness like hemoglobin

And the love like oxygen that is flowing in my blood

Through my veins.

I am thirsty

Thirsty for your love

Your lips

How can even whiskey replace it?

Wind is blowing

And it is softly touching my skin

And I am closing my eyes

To feel your hand over my body

How can even these winds

Replace the soft touch of your hand

The sky is beautiful

Not anymore

Because you’re not here with me

How can even the moon replace you

The sky is beautiful

Not anymore

Because you’re not here with me

And I am too not here with me

Because I loved you more than I loved myself

And you took me with you

PRINCESS CAN BE ON WHEELCHAIR -Sangeeta Sharma 'Sangam'

I am not just a body,

I am a dignified soul

Don't underestimate my existence

I am playing my beautiful role

Why you think too much,

I am rare

Darling world!

PRINCESS CAN BE ON WHEELCHAIR.

You see my body,

Count my flaws

I am not just a petal,

I am a complete rose

I am deeply enlightened

Free like music in air

Darling world!

PRINCESS CAN BE ON WHEELCHAIR.

I am magnetic,

Aim to attract whole world

With the wings of patience,

I fly like a bird

Beautify my face

Applying color of prayers

Darling world!

PRINCESS CAN BE ON WHEELCHAIR.

Self talk - Pavithra

Bright sunlight scatters on the window.

I woke up with a voice saying, you've got to go.

I heard a crystal-clear voice in front of the mirror.

You can do it, says my inner voice.

It's the voice behind my success.

It's the voice that guides my journey.

The voices were loud, turning into self-talk.

Self-talk heals like therapy.

Self-talk relaxes the mind.

Self-talk lightens the heart.

Self-talk embarks on the idea.

Self-talk evokes belief.

Self-talk enhances the skill.

Self-talk encourages goals.

To acknowledge your needs and likes,

Self-talk plays an important role.

Positive self-talk energizes us.

Negative self-talk deprives us.

Greater self-talk means a better life.

Advice, discussion, and chatting are best, but self-talk is a remedy.

Never mind other talks that bring us down,

And never give up on self-talk; it's a buster.

To know the answer to the problem,

To know how we feel about the situation,

To know whether we are relaxed or burdened,

Self-talk clears the way.

Deepened by thoughts,

You go, girl, my inner voice awakens.

Doubted about the ability to do,

That's my girl, my inner voice acknowledges.

Being tensed to have a cnversation,

You are bold enough inner voice motivates me.

To friends and family, prevail as mature and humble talk.

In times of hardship, self-talk is the comfort zone.

Self-talk is not crazy.

An activity to unlock our inner self

To unleash the abundant potential within us.

Wise use of self-talk eases life.

The best therapy that heals the core of the soul

The inner voice strengthens as a result of endless self-talk.

That connects our mind and heart,

To protect our souls.

The School of Crime- Tanvi Nishchal

Welcome all offsprings of neglected and deprived

Welcome you all to the School of Crime

Where your only weapon is your mind

You shall be placed according to your fate

The houses would become a spitting image of your traits

At first, I call upon the anit socialite wasp and his dark room of sociopath

Where they do their isolated maths

Their motto is to live and live on your own

Detached, unbothered all alone

They are harmless being at least they try

Anyway they are worth the hype

Up next I present to you the infamous psychopath’s red room

Under the shadows of evil, they have been groomed

They are head of the heads

Instilling fear they make sure that everyone dreads

When they are the ones seeking a home

But they are confined to misunderstood domes

The last but most certainly not the least

Are our very famous dare demi-devils the narcissist

Posses the weakest hearts and spreads their purple portions

The world is their reflection is their only notion

They chop off your thoughts and slice the limbs of truths

These incompetent, malicious brutes

The acceptance of yourself would lead you to heaven

Otherwise wide open are the doors to hell

The ball is in your court, I hope you play well,