Back To Life!- Sakshi Singh

She once encountered a storm while playing in the rain,

It crushed her spirit, and soon she realised she was not the same,

She was promised the light but was left in the darkness forever,

She was left in bits and pieces, which she's now piecing together.

Every part of her was shattered and charred by the flames of the past,

She thought she would never come out of it because of the shadow it had cast,

But then her dreams caught up to her and gave her hope that she could make it out alive,

And when she felt like she was going under, her dreams brought her back to life!

The Pain Undone- Medha Medha

The subtle void at large

The visceral solace by pieces

This imperceptible oblivion

Touched by the incoherent elements

Calling to move from the fringes of past into future

Which now seems to be an abyss

It will forever be the pain undone.

The toddler whose cheeks I kissed,

With whom I rode my tricycle,

The child with whom I played in glee,

With whom I shared my everything

The immature who never matured

Suddenly pulls out from the living orb

Leaving us in a vortex of despair

It will forever be the pain undone.

For the world it was the grief in brief

As "The time heals everything" is their belief

But I see the zeal grappling with silence

With silence being the winner, an unfamiliar affair

The aching heart refuges in a smile

And the etched memories refusing to ebb

It will forever be the pain undone.

हम कब जागेंगे- Anil Kumar Singh

ये कितना निर्मम और क्रूर समय है

जिसमें हम जी रहे हैं

हम अपनी आंखों के सामने

एक बेबस बालिका की नृशंस हत्या होते

तमाशबीनों की तरह देखते हैं,

वो भी तब जब हमारा मामूली सा प्रतिरोध

इस घटना को रोक सकता था और

उस लड़की की जान बचा सकता था।

पर नहीं वहां उपस्थित तमाम लोग

पता नहीं किस गहरे भय से

या समाज में व्याप्त एक अजीब सी

सामाजिक उदासीनता के वशीभूत

निर्विकार भाव से गुज़रते रहे जैसे

यह उनके लिए  रोजमर्रा की

एक सामान्य सी घटना हो

और इससे उन्हें कोई भी अंतर नहीं पड़ता ।

ऐसी ही निरपेक्षता,उदासीनता

लगभग कम या ज़्यादा हम सबमें

कहीं गहरे तक समा गई है,

हम तब तक नहीं जागते

जब तक ऐसा कुछ हमारे साथ

या हमारे किसी अपने के साथ घटित न हो जाये।

वही सब लोग जो इस घटनाके मौन साक्षी थे

अब चीखेंगे,चिल्लायेंगे,शोर मचायेंगे

निर्जीव चीजों पर अपना आक्रोश निकालेंगे

भीड़ के साथ सड़कों पर उतरेंगे

इसको-उसको दोषी ठहरायेंगे

इस बात का उस बात का रोना रोयेंगे

इस आग में अपनी किस्म किस्म की रोटियां सेंकने

तमाम तरह के लोग कूदेंगे

हर जगह जोरदार बहसें होंगी।

पर प्रश्न जो गहरे हैं

इसी अंतहीन शोर में

हमेशा की तरह दबकर रह जायेंगे ।

प्रश्न तो ये हैं कि

हम अपने अंतर के भय से कब उबरेंगे

कब अपनी उदासीनता छोड़ेंगे

कब ऐसी घटनाओं को

अपनी आंखों के सामने घटते देख

चुप रहना छोड़ेंगे,मुंह नहीं मोड़ेंगे ।

हम कब -आख़िर कब

अपने डर की जंजीरें तोड़ेंगे।

सुनो ना - RIDDHI SARAYA

सुनो ना,

आज बातें हो रही है

तो बात करो ना |

सुनो ना,

कल की बातें भुलाकर

कल के बारे मे बिना सोचे

थोड़ी सी आज हसी मज़ाक करो ना |

सुनो ना,

आज थोड़ी मेरी भी सुनो

थोड़ी खुद की भी सुनाओ

आओ मैं एक "कट्टिंग " चाय पिलाऊँ

और तुम थोड़ी अपनी बॉस की बुराई करो ना |

सुनो ना,

मुझे भी बताओ

कल "boys night out" कैसा रहा

थोड़ी खुशी दोस्तों के साथ एक पेग पर बाटी

आज थोड़ा सा गम मेरे साथ एक "cup" चाय पर बाटों ना |

सुनो ना,

पिछले हफ्ते "McDonalds" से मंगवाया था

आज तुम, तुम्हारी "स्पेशल" पनीर बनाओ

मैं थोड़ी टेढ़ी मेढ़ी रोटी बनाऊँ

आओ चलो ना आज साथ मिलकर थोड़ी मोहब्बत अदा करे ना |

सुनो ना,

येह जो मेरे लिए कुछ "ऑर्डर" करते हो

और करने से पहले पूछते हो

और हर बार यूँ ना ना करते करते हाँ करवा देते हो

वो बिना पूछे बस कर दिया करो ना |

सुनो ना,

बहुत दिन हो गए

आओ ना मेरी लिखी हुई कविता सुन्कर, चुटकियाँ बजाकर,

"हाय! क्या लिखा है "

कहो ना |

सुनो ना,

आज बातें हो रही है

तो बात करो ना |

PEACE- Subhranil Sarkar

If I were a man,

Then I could have got

For me a magnificent plan-

Yes! Why not?

I would have been the most perfect one,

So that the noble ones would rot

For I am a ruler, who ruled hearts

Yes! Why not?

If I were mortal,

Then I could have fought

For my glory, to spread it round the world-

Yes! Why not?

You would have thought,

I'm the most self-centred man ever created;

Too bigotted, too ambitious

To understand feelings ''precious",

But 'fore I speak further,

Did you ever remember

Who were you?

You say, "How dare you insult me

Without having any clue?"

Now I say, it is indeed true

I swear I do "insulted" you!

'Tis your greed, your ambition

Your putrefying notion

Of being the cream of the cake.

Being the sweetest and the coolest

You forget on what you rest

Your body, your desire

Won't remain with you,

Nothing but only I

For eternity, for ever!

So what bothers me if I am shrewd?

For my name is Peace, I need no clue!

मोर बिन पर- BHAGAT SINGH

मोर,बिन पर वाला कहीं

दिख ही गया यूंही

जालियों से खिड़कियों की,

ना थी सलाखें पर हाँ थी

उन पर जमी सुविधा परत

ताकती सी नजर भर

उस मोर के छोड़े गए पर,

पर निगाहे जा रुकी

रखा उन्हीं में से

कोई एक पर कहीं

दर्पण के पीछे,भीत से सटकर

नृत्य मुद्रा में ना होकर,जड़ सा ही

जीवंत हो उठता वो पर उस पहर

जब देखता आ विचलित नर आस भर

सरिता किनारे नीलगिरी की छाप सा

प्रात: की पहली किरण के ताप सा॥

द्वापर युग में दीखता

बांसुरी की तान पर ग्वाला कहीं

सिर पंख टाँगे हास व परिहास में

नहाती नारियों के वस्त्र कर वापिस

उसी युग में कहीं कोंतेय को जा

सीख देता भागवत की।

पर-पर मिले मिलकर बंधे

और किसी माँ के गूँथे

हाथपंखे में जा जुड़कर

हिल और डुलकर पैदा करते

बयार सुख की और सुकून की

नन्ही सी एक जान खातिर

जो इसी युग का बिरसा बन डट जाए

और बन जाए ईश्वर किसी जनजाति का।

कहीं डूब स्याही नीली में एक पर

सूखे सफहो पर फिसल कर

लिख जाता उठते स्वर

गिरता स्तर मानवता का

जिसका होना आजकल उतना ही मुश्किल

जितना दीवारों बीच में एक घर का होना।

एक पर कहीं बैठ

किसी पुस्तक में जा बनता पृष्ठस्मृति

जो याद दिलाए भूल से छोड़ा हुआ

कोई काम आशा को लिए

पूरा होने की जल्द ही

शुरुआत की ले सींक उठ बैठ कर

चुभो देगा आलस भरी उस नींद में।

झाडू बन कर मोर पर

फैला धुएँ से मिंचती आँख में जा धूल झोंके

और दमड़ी चाह में हिला उसको

झाड-फूंके दे-दे- बच्चा अरमा सच्चा ख्वाब कच्चा

झोली भर फिर चल पड़ेगा मंत्रोच्चार कर

और क्रुद्ध होकर शांति का प्रचार करने।

एक पर छोड़ा हुआ

उड़ कर गिरा

उन नन्हें नंगे पैरों में

थामे हुए कंधे पे झोला

और बोझ किस्मत का भी कह लो

फटे लत्ते,फटी एड़ी,चिरी पिंडली

देख कर रंगो को गोलाकार

हाथों में ले वो उस पर को घुमाता

मानो उसने पा लिया हो

विश्व रूपी ताज कोहिनूर

जिसको छीन गोरे दासता में कैद करके

खुद की ही शेख़ी बघारे

वो पर उसे मिलकर

उसकी हार हर कर

जीत की अनुभूति देता

और उसके हाथ में हिल कर लहरता

मानो करे नृत्य कहीं कोई मोर

बरखा आस में,उसकी तरह॥

Madwoman- PRASHANT TIWARI

There she blabbers beside the road to everywhere.

A thin shawl once garbed around her shoulder

Now trails behind, bedaubed with soil.

Continuously she gazes with disbelief at her swaying hands,

As if destiny has betrayed her palm reading,

As if it was not her fate to sit on the road

And be pelted by stones, or survive on loaves thrown

Or to be called a poor ‘madwoman’.

A fortune teller once told her of a handsome man,

A large joint family and half a dozen children pride.

The contours of her palm must have changed

For her fortune was bright (I swear he said it was very bright).

Then one day they dragged her to a healer and said

‘She speaks in double voices,

tears apart her clothes; hurts herself with pointed edges.

She is a witch.’

He ravished her mind deep where dreams throbbed,

to conjure the black energy out of her evil body.

Further dreams were of the leeches feeding upon a withering soul.

One last day, in an everlasting night, they put her in a distant dark world

where the screams were muffled by the hard stones.

“This is your home.

Madness is contagious, you know. How would you know?

For the good of all, it is better to kill a rabid dog or let it

Kill itself.”

And this world made of rock piles, they knew, would kill her

like death’s natural/arbitrary prey.

She survived.

And since thence, she studies the mystics of the streets.

Incessantly she mutters and rereads

the mysteries of her lines.

A cheerful obedient girl lurks therein,

Her nectar sucked and her carcass declined.

The fragile skeleton appears over her blotted dead skin.

She feels no pain, no sun, no cold, and no

Hunger or knows not to express them.

Millions walk past overlooking her,

Some swarming living garbage on the roadside.

Her shabby potali kept close to her heart and

a mad dog stoned dead beside.

Only the dog knew what she treasures

in the filthy sack that she often checks.

“What she keeps talking to her treasured sack?”

“Mad is mad for every isolated reason,

for every inexplicable reason.”

She could not trust her hands, her own hands,

For these were the hands that rocked the cradle, tied

the sacred thread and watered the family garden.

She could not believe that these are the abandoned hands

of a ‘madwoman’.

The carriage ride with my Armor of bravery - Esther Simte

It starts that evening at sunset,

The church bell's toll, which was unstoppable.

As they burned down our churches and houses,

Starts the unending war, with a love not so true.

The enemies aren't outside but within, troubles.

Still they stand proudly,not perceiving the end

Will be doomed,as they'll wander with pain,

For killing us, as their minds are filled with revivalism.

Asking for peace,as they walk rallies

While they keep on attacking our villages,

Spreading news manufactured, while blaming us,

Oh!God where are the truth's?

I heard the soulful wailing of the innocent Fellows,

And those grievous stories,with memories linger,Adieu.

Burn's my heart into ashes along with burning homes,

Summer comes & winter goes,with all ending in smoke.

Still i tried to covered all my griefs,

With shadow of the moon.

Determined to live,as gentle as i could,

And wipe my tears away.

As i realised that i was blind-folded

On this carriage ride that they called life,

But storms can't kill my passion,

Still i need to endure,the vicissitudes of life.

Hard to balance between the authenticity

And the erroneousness of this world.

So,i put on my Armor of bravery,

As the so-called darkness is only a state of mind.

Break through and break free,

As my courage is the key to open every door.

And i will never be fazed again,

By how the world treats me.

My Resilient Soul -Hemant Kumar Meena

When the fierce tempest stormed , soul awakened for the first time,

In the storm of rage, though naive was i

Yet in my ignorance, i failed to spy.

Sickness of my brain had clouded my once clear perception

In misguided haze wrong, seemed so enticing.

Each folly cloaked in a deceptive guise'

I found allure where darkness was residing,

A twisted path that blinded my own eyes.

My mind eluded grasp, beyond control

And my own body felt not truly mine,

But there is a truth i held , a force so divine

That my sickly mind is distinct from my incandescence soul light .

I started losing, breaking piece by piece

And seem like devil triumphed, seizing control

I felt defeated my soul's released

Myself being plundered consumed as a whole.

With fervent strife, i battled with demon in the dark

So flames of harm , never touch their hearts

Yet my loved ones remained Oblivion,

But i kept fighting with a warrior's spirit, fierce and tenacious.

Within my mind , the devil's voice did rise,

Whispering in my ears with odious intent.

"Embrace the end, where the bliss lies, obliterate it all bring utter lament"

But how could i surrender to defeat,

For it was not just my life i fought for,

I had to battle for three generations complete,

To keep them alive their essence restore .

Today i'm alive for i choose to thrive,

This illness i defy , with strength untold,

The doctor of this ailment, i must strive,

To heal myself, a journey to unfold.

Life is precious, a jewel beyond compare,

Do not squander it in reckless despair,

Each birth is unique, rare beyond compare,

Embrace the moment, for life is rare.

A grave illness plagued, a devil's fright,

But my pure soul saved ,my life held dear

With energy bestowed by familiy's light

My soul triumphed over darkest fear.

For i have overcome, my heart elates

With gratitude, i cherish those who care

My family's love, the bond that resonates

"The illness may have been a daunting strife.

But my Exalted soul was nothing less divine" •••

- Written by Hemant Kumar Meena(2023)

Conforming Ink- Malavika Hariprasad

We learn to write with a pencil's grace,

Forgiving, elemental, helping us find our place.

As we become surer of ourselves each day,

Gel pens glide, creativity takes its sway.

They smudge and bleed and blot and dry,

But forgiveness becomes innovation's ally.

The ink flows freely without any resistance,

Giving us the space to solidify our opinions.

From pencil to gel pens, as we forge our way,

Creativity takes flight, calming mind’s melee.

But then, we face the ball pen's stiff embrace,

A rigid dance, we reluctantly let it take the gel’s place.

It forces itself across the paper’s rugged playground,

But aged and weary, it becomes beat down.

Like a fading star, the mind’s brilliance wanes,

Leaving the hand longing, seeking creative reins.

As we adapt, transformations unfold,

Minds tethered to screens; expressions untold.

Drone-like hands grow detached and numb,

A dull mechanical rhythm replacing mind’s delightful hum.

In this fast-paced world, to hold fast to our voice,

Amidst the rush of keys, we must make a conscious choice.

Occasionally, to let our words break free from their routinely dance,

And revive the spirit of pen and paper’s romance.

Legacy of Law- Himadri Patel

Dampen the voices of our hearts,

Rupture our love and break us apart.

Deceive our trust and ruin our dreams,

Shelter our hopes and make us bleed.

Let it be written, our rightful Constitution;

Let it begin, our timely restitution.

We plant the seeds of our perpetual love,

We grow our symbol of peace - a graceful dove.

We banish the ghosts of our dreary hatred,

We let hopes blossom; now we are sated.

Let it thrive, our rightful Constitution;

Let it flourish, our timely retribution.

And now our voices have strength anew,

Our love and unity no longer askew.

Our trust is mended and our dreams run high,

Our hopes now reach beyond the skies.

We join our hands and chant together:

We are the victims with scars on our bodies.

We are the untouchables with scars on our minds.

We are the children with scars on our future.

But,

Soon we will be the citizens of a new tomorrow,

Where we are promised

Justice, liberty, equality, fraternity.

Let it unite, our rightful Constitution,

Let it bind, our timely evolution.

Never Apart - Krati Rastogi

I don’t know when or how you step into my life,

All I know is whenever I am around you the world is different – Subtle

A little time spent with you was like hours & days of joy – A perfect heal to wound

It seems like losing myself in your smile and your voice makes my heart melt.

You have always heard & knew what to say; how to exhilarate the mood on a bad day

Every moment with you has a worth and a beautiful memory to cherish,

With you it always has been a bliss.

But all sudden a day came where we were only left with the moments to adore.

I never thought it could have accelerated.

Don’t know why it’s always been hard to say a goodbye keeping a hope we will see each other again.

Ice Cream- V. AKSHAI KUMAR

Sunny, humid and sweaty,

That’s how the weather is.

And it doesn’t matter until you hold my hand ,

And I give you a kiss.

The reflection of myself in your eye ,

Feels like I am in my mothers womb again,

Tiny and shy.

World feels different when your around ,

The earth stops spinning and

The moon is always round.

Saying good bye ,

Feels like a slit through my heart

A never healing wound , like a crack

On a porcelain pot.

The moment you smile because of me,

It feels like A million fireflies light up the sea.

You are a bit taller than who I saw in my dream ,

Life without you,

Is like cone without an ice cream.

Story of an Emotional Fool- Rutika Jadhav

Am I too sensitive or are you just insensitive?

I feel that both is true.

You poke at the same wound that I showed you once.

I'm vulnerable around you and you don't care enough.

My heart aches. I feel like a dead, walking flesh

With buzzing ears, blurry vision and a heavy head.

You sometimes make me regret that you know me too well.

It makes me furious how much your behavior dictates my emotions.

If my brain is a thought machine, my heart is a melancholy factory.

I thought I was in control. I thought I was steady but

I've really only just been falling apart ever since the beginning.

Ghost On My Bed- V AKSHAI KUMAR

“Is there any improvement “ she asked ?

No, “We are playing with the same eleven,” I barked.

“Try , staying in the moment and not worrying too much “, she said.

I told , “Thats exactly what I tell myself when I am in bed” .

“Are you taking your pills regularly “she asked ?

She said, “I’ll have to increase the medication if this lasts”.

I keep wondering, “Why Am I at this place just to see her talking like this and staring at my face “ ?

I asked, “Is there a possible solution or cure for my case “ ?

She said, “The only solution is to burn up those pictures and get over that phase”.

I asked, “Will this be over if I erase her memory from my brain” ?

Or

“Is this an everlasting pain “ ?

She said “Your wife is dead and it’s been six years”.

I said , “Not a day has passed without remorse or tears” .

She said , “Look its over you’ll have to live in the present ! “

I said “Well, if thats the case I’d rather watch myself descend “.

“You can’t do this to yourself you have a life to live “ she said.

I told her “Maam , you don’t get it , Can we talk about anything else instead ? “

“So what are you planning to do now ?” she asked.

“Well , I plan to live with her in my head “ i said.

“You’ll be a maniac in a few weeks” she said.

I told her,

“ I’ve already become one ,

I see her ghost lying with me on my bed “.

The Earth in Us- Antara Gupta

The lines across those thighs,

the lumps and bumps on your belly,

are like the valleys, the deep chasms of the Earth.

That texture on your skin,

treatment for which should be our whim

The lush green forests, the warm beach,

the feel of rain against the bare skin.

This texture that we find all so charming,

Who knew could be our marring?

Counting those so-called imperfections on your skin

is like reprimanding those flowers in your garden

The Earth within us all

for why we should stand tall

the Belle we catcall

has so much more to give

than just a simple, beautiful face

Know that it’s not a sprawl

for it is who we are meant to be

with less or more curves that they wanted

with deeper color than they would like

with bolder thoughts than they would apprentice

It is time

that we stop searching for a home in another

when since day 1

all that you need resides within you

it is the world that has convinced us otherwise

For it is a billion-dollar industry that would turn to dust

if we believed we were beautiful enough already

We all wear masks

we fear what the world will think

and hide the "flawed" pieces of ourselves

always running,

running from our real

We find ourselves burying parts of ourselves so deep

it becomes hard to see the difference between

what is true and what is not

So taken by the perfect bodies and perfect faces

of the models that cover today's magazines

On some days, it becomes hard to even look at yourself in the mirror

lying on the floor like a crumpled piece of paper

Your skin carries memory of where it has been

it is a reminder of all that you have conquered

but what was once a piece of art,

a piece of nature,

is now layered with botox and fillers

If beauty is more than just perfect skin, the desired hourglass figure, and vibrant eyes

Why does the media feed us such lies?

Why are beautiful people photoshopped to fit the headlines?

Their broken perception of beauty

is manufactured

and we are not

The hamartia of this generation

is the flawed idea of perfection,

being beautiful, feminine, and graceful

when these are all shallow, objectifying views of chauvinistic men

The Earth within us all

is why we should never feel small.

the loving god - Priyanshi Punia

women falling to their knees

protests stifled in their throats

and yet they would claim equality

lie about a world where i can walk at night

houses keep getting rebuilt but the trauma always stays

it is a part of the soil that makes the bricks that make this country

it is a part of the women that make the soil that makes the bricks that make this country

my fear is mine first

yet they somehow intertwine it with religion, with otherness

but this fear is a collective, it is communal

the monsters of the night do not discriminate

the monsters of the night gain too much confidence

they don’t remain in the shadows anymore

but our fear always does

because how can you be woman without biting your tongue and swallowing blood

how can you be woman without making yourself small enough to digest

my ache is my mother’s and her mother’s and her mother’s and her mother’s

it runs in the bloodline

and despite this sacrifice everything becomes about god

we are no strangers to nightmares that follow us even when we are awake

and there are still prayers made to a god that doesn’t listen

his arrogance increases as his interest in this place decreases

if i am accidentally safe for one day, they thank god

and on days when i’m not, they beg him to protect

but protection is for things you care about

protection means you love

but the only thing he could love is watching our misery

watching us disintegrate into shame and fear and nothingness

because after all you have to be nothing to be woman

and they make our screams heard and voices silenced

it is quite the contradiction

living locked in our houses for the fear and still having our souls crushed

and i am scarred in the name of a loving god

knees bruised

tears down throats

biting down tongues

swallowing bile and blood

how can you be woman without being mangled corpses

The price of being a "Diamond"-Deveani Suri

You had been through stuff enough,

had been pushed at all odds so tough,

You had been burdened too much,

escape an option had not been given as such,

You had received many cuts and bruises,

had been deprived of things that amuses,

You had been shoved in darkness,

trapped on all the sides like mess,

But here you are;you have survived,

you win and have risen alive,

With an untamed and limitless shine,

you have ripped apart the darkness so fine,

And,the world is stunned because you have now become a "Diamond".

सभ्य होने का ढोंग- Anil Singh

इतना कुछ बदल गया है  हमारे चारो ओर कि

अब तो हमने

सभ्य होने का ढोंग रचाना भी छोड़ दिया है।

अपने सारे मुखौटे उतारकर ,

हम प्रायः हंसते हैं एक निर्लज्ज हंसी

अपनी समस्त विद्रूपताओं के साथ,

हमें अब किसी बात का भय नहीं होता ,

अलग -थलग पड़ने का डर नहीं होता,

क्योंकि शायद अब यही व्यवहार

सहज स्वीकार्य है ,मान्य है,सराहनीय है।

Goddess- Amrita Rath

Sometimes I take birth

sometimes I'm denied,

unsure of my future

I look at God as my guide.

Growing up is a task

yet all I am taught is silence,

if I dare speak out

I get a look, so tense.

I bear violence, taunts and

even when they scold,

keeping it all to myself

according to every situation I can mould.

You visit temples

religiously worship and pray,

on the thrones sit the women deity too

if you cannot respect women, from the

temples stay away.

I agree not everyone is alike,

many love me,

raise me with love

those who don't, I pity.

I can be a mother, daughter, sister, wife

and what not,

treat me like a human, raise me like a princess;

just like Durga, Lakshmi, Sita and all of them

I am one, with names many like a Goddess.