Short Stories & Poems


By Shruti Shreya:

I sat at my window, gazing out,
Not a soul in the woods, not one about.
The great dark giants with their hands outstretched,
Beckoning to the Phoebe as the clouds passed ahead.

And then I saw that fluttering stranger,
Emerging out of shadows, I knew he was danger.
Not a twitch of a twig, nor a rustle of a leaf,
He moved about as to a lurking thief.

He chose his victim and got to work,
With his axe in motion, his face a smirk.
I witnessed with bated breath an evil sight,
As the giant Ebony gave in to his might.

And then it was all over!
The tree might fetch him a great new pullover.
But he was a man so greedy, a beast, a hog,
Who turned the tree into a mere log.

I sat back, tears welling, my eyes shut,
Wondering what will happen with the trees all cut.
“Yes, there is enough for everyone’s need,
but surely not for anyone’s greed!”

These words of Bapu are really true,
But who is there to listen, WHO?


Bloodshed, Tears, Grief, Anguish,
Around me.
And I stare with eyes wide open,
As if blind.
Do I care enough?

Everyday I hear of death and destruction.
Every dawn I throw a careless glance,
At the newspaper, full of new stories,
Of ignorance, prejudice, manipulation
And yet I stare,
As though I were frozen.
Do I care enough?


I pledge in my heart, to make a difference,
Big promises, But HOW?
Frustration, Guilt, Blame
I fall prey to the vicious mind games
Of powerful authority.
I watch television, in an effort to be more aware,
More understanding,
Never once stepping out of my home,
For fear of facing what I know
Do I care enough?

Step up! Speak Out! For today, more than ever,
She needs us.
Our mother, Our homeland,
I will take responsibility for the environment
Around me.
I will be more proactive rather than reactive.
I will not blame anyone but myself,
For out of guilt springs corrective action.
And maybe, just maybe, THEN I would have cared enough.

Image courtesy:


कुंदन पांडे:

ये कैसा उन्माद है
इतना भीषण क्यूँ संग्राम है?
कुछ ज़मीन के टुकड़ो में
ऐसी क्या बात है?
अंतहीन इस कोलाहल में
किसकी जीत किसकी हार है?
महाभारत है ये या महाभिशाप है

‘सदा-इ-सरहद’* कुछ न कर पाया
न कर सकी कुछ ‘अमन की आशा’
उस भिकरते मुल्क में छाई ऐसी क्यूँ निराशा?
कितने ‘बार्डर’ हम सील करेंगे
कितने तोप बनायेंगे
इतनी नफरत इतनी गैरत
क्या ये खिलोने रोक पाएंगे?
कौन गलत था कौन सही
गाँधी,जिन्नाह या नेहरु
था सब धर्मो का घनचक्कर
या फिर पश्चिम का अँधा गुरूर

कब तक ये हिसाब लगायेंगे
कब तक इतिहास दोहराएंगे
और कितने खून बहायेंगे
और कितनी लाशें बिछायेंगे

धरम-जात के बन्दूक से
कब तक आंतक मचाओगे
ओ शासन के रखवालो
कब तक हमे रुलाओगे

समय सटीक है
अमर प्रतिज्ञा लेने का
हर युवक को
हर बच्चे को
ये सीख देने का

नहीं झुकेंगे, नहीं लड़ेंगे
दकियानुसी बातों पर
नहीं बटेंगे, नहीं मरेंगे
झूटे आज़ादी के सोपानो पर

‘हम एक है’ आओ इसका नाद करे
झुटे ढकोसोलो पर मिलकर वार करे
साथ चले और जीवन का उथान करे
रचे नया इतिहास नव-पथ का निर्माण करे
लाये मिलकर हम नयी ‘अमन की आशा’
बदल दे अपने बीते जीवन की परिभाषा…

(सदा-इ-सरहद* – is the name of Delhi-Lahore bus service started as a peace initiative during the Atal Bihari Vajpayee’s government)


कुंदन पांडे: 

अपनों में सिमटी
ममता में लिपटी
खुद में खपती
जीवन तुम रचती

काया में ढलती
प्रेम में पिघलती
सतत तुम जलती
प्राथना में रमती
जीवन तुम रचती

मोह तुम करती
माया में फसती
निर्माण करती
वंश चलाती
जीवन तुम रचती

अपनों में सिमटी
ममता में लिपटी
खुद में खपती
जीवन तुम रचती

आशा तुम जगाती
निराशा भगाती
सृजन तुम करती
उथान करती
जीवन तुम रचती

प्रज्ञा बढाती
गौरव तुम लाती
रेगिस्तानी जड़ता मिटाती
हरियाली सजाती
जीवन तुम रचती…

जीवन तुम रचती…

The Indian Worker

- देविका मित्तल :

कितने राजा आए ,

कितने शेहेनशाह गुज़रे,

पर वह वही रहा |


किले फ़तेह कर लिए जाए ,

या बनवा लिये जाए ताज कई,

मरता वह ही है

वह जिससे पूछा भी नहीं जाता की  वह  किसकी तरफ है,

मरता  वह ही  है |


किले  फ़तेह करने  में , ताज  बनाने  में,

और  मेहेंगाई में  भी,

मरता  वह ही है |


गलती कोई भी करे

पर हरज़ाना उसकी पूरी कौम को भरना पड़ता है

पर उसमे भी भरता वह ही है…

वह जिसका इन बातों से कोई लेना-देना ही नहीं,

वह जिसे सिर्फ अपनी रोज़ी-रोटी की चिंता होती है,

मरता वो ही है, सिर्फ वो ही |


मरता वो ही है,

और उसके निशान रेत पे बनते हैं ,

फिर लहरों के साथ चले जाते हैं…


समाप्त: इस उम्मीद के साथ की कभी शायद उसे भी ज़िन्दगी मिले | 


By Vrinda Ravi Kumar:

Today was just another day.

I was walking through the muddy, narrow, uneven roads of a particular
place in Delhi. Things passed me by. A guy with a muffler and a cap, a
hassled woman with two naughty kids and a lot of bags; a group of
three teenage boys laughing raucously.

The ground was slippery and wet, it was freezing outside, and all I wanted to do was get the hell out of there after finishing the work I had.

It was, in fact, just another day…

I walked by a mobile store, a grocery store, a vegetable vendor, two
shops selling woollens and a mobile store. Then I saw the old man.

His waist length hair stood out white as snow against the dirty, muddy
path. His silence shouting over the babble of meaningless noise. He
was bent over double. He was carrying a thick staff to support
himself and a small broken tin that contained a few coins and some
leaves (probably tulsi leaves to give with his blessing to those who were kind
enough to drop a rupee or two into his tin). He was wearing a thin
white kurta-pyjama that was stained well beyond social acceptance. His
steps were minuscule, probably six or seven to counter a single step
of mine. Every step seemed to cause him pain. He was mumbling softly
to himself. His skin was stretched tightly over his bones. He was not
shivering. People bustled around him, pushing him when he got in their
way. He didn’t react. It was just another day…

I moved on, after all, I had things to do.

I finished buying everything I needed for my use in the main market after twenty short minutes,
and had a few hot jalebis to counter the biting cold at the sweet shop

I stopped to examine an extra shiny mirror that gave off a distorted
reflection. A moment’s amusement.

I stopped to give a woman directions.

I walked back. I passed a bickering married couple, a group of four teenagers
laughing at the couple and a worried-looking man talking on his
cell phone.

I also saw the silent old man again, walking in the same direction.

He had crossed two shops. Five metres.

But you know what? It’s all cool. I got my work done. It’s been a
productive trip. I can go back and rest at home with warm covers and a
cup of steaming tea.

It’s just another day, right?

Don’t answer. Don’t comment. For once, don’t do what people normally
do – battering through their life, causing pain to others. Think for

The way forward is by pushing others behind you, is it not? It’s all
relative. The law of the world. — irrefutable, cold, hard math. Fine, go right ahead.
Push, pull.  Sabotage.  Frame. Pull more. It’s not any nearer. Pull again, harder.
So close. So close.
Achieve your goal.

Then what?


By Mani Mahesh Garg:

She was silent
After the small time
They spent together,
For his pleasure
And for her stomach,
In the small locked room







She was silent as usual
Once more
Accepting the pains and gains,
Pains for her soul and
Gains for her body,
Under the shield of paid love,
In the small locked room

She was silent
When she dressed up,
As she was
When undressed,
By the lustful eyes
And the vulgar hands,
In the small locked room

She was silent
When she collected
Her collateral pay,
For the deal
Made and executed
And still alive in fragrance of lust and pain,
In the small locked room

She was silent
He was content,
As the animal inside had slept
For some time,
Who may witness a new silence
And crack in a new deal,
In the small locked room

She was silent
As she unlocked the door
She looked back and smirked,
Mocking at his weakness
Sad at her fate,
She left him
With wet eyes,
In the small unlocked room


By Shobhna Jain:

Last night I saw her in my dreams. I had seen her enumerable times — in my reveries, her sublime features, her divine touch, her fragrance — she was always appealing and angelic, but she looked different this time. She was fascinating and attractive. I had seen in her the companion of my choice, I knew she could brighten my life, change this carefree dullard into someone different, someone elite and respectable. I knew I wanted her; rather she was all I wanted in life. She filled my world with hope and love, desire and dreams… her dreams… Our dreams.

I was a higher secondary pass out then and I had started my planning to meet her. I heard she likes Engineers and I without a second thought jumped into this dark scary well called “Electronics and Communication Engineering”, irrespective of my dream to be a journalist. I sacrificed it all just for her, and while in the pit of my heart I still had a craving for my dream, I didn’t mind ceding myself to her wishes. My life without her was a large void and I wanted to fill it up at any cost.

Back in Engineering College I made strenuous efforts mugging up all those formulas, kept my nose to the grindstone of equations and theorems. I hated those creepy formulas, I hated those pathetic derivations. I hated it all. One night, it poured, and it poured heavily. I was sitting in corner crying, blocked from the whole world, knees up against my chest with my head on them. Making myself as small as possible, I cried… I cried for long but I recollected myself soon, I knew I wanted to be with her forever and ever. When you fall in love, you evolve into a temporary Lyssa, your heart erupts like an earthquake and then subsides and when it subsides. You have to sacrifice, and I sacrificed my mental balance for her. I sacrificed all I had!

And today, after years and years of tarrying; the day has finally come. Yes it has come. I am on the ninth cloud! Lost in her thoughts, I could not even sleep the whole night. It’s six in the morning and I am dying to meet her, to touch her, to feel her presence, to smell her. I feel so elated to see my dream coming true. I took a shower, and picked up my favourite navy blue trousers and a bright red tie. Lots of cologne and perfume made me smell good. I was ready… yes, I was ready to meet her… my life… my life line!

I finally reached the place and there I was right in her embrace – “THE HCL INTERVIEW OFFICE”! What?!!! I was, since the start talking of my job only – My Occupation, My Profession and My Employment. What else can the youth dream of in this recession-struck era?

So, after this Keak and Cackle session when are you chasing your dream…?

Girl Child

By Pawani Mathur:

When she was born,
they all had mourned







But they sent her to school
because everyone did;
And they taught her to cook
because she needed it

She worked hard at home,
But no one cared
‘God’ had made her a woman
she was born a sinner

She was unwanted
A burden but they kept her all along
There was a house to look after,
After all;

She was the keeper of the house
but the house was not her keeper
she was to go away one day
and so she did

They sent her away
away forever
She did what she did in her own home
only for different people and a new home

She did it all
she did it everywhere
But at the end of the day
She belonged nowhere


By Smriti Mahale:

Suraj returned to his silent home. Being the CEO of one of the biggest company of the nation was a tough job. He still enjoyed it. The reputation, the wealth, the respect, he enjoyed it all. Even though it meant, no friends and family, no informal parties, no simple joys of life, no laughter… It was a life of fake relations, plastered smiles, formal gatherings. After all – money mattered. After all years of study, hard work, sacrifices, struggles achievements, had to pay their price someday. He missed the old times: the jokes, the love, the magic. It somehow did not seem to matter now.

He freshened up for a silent night. He sat back on his maple bed wondering how life could have been different if he had made a different choice ten years ago. Would he still have woken up to a breakfast from the next door five star hotel? Would he still have dressed in the navy Armani suits? Would he still mingle with the elite? Would he still go to sleep in a room adorned with ivory mantle pieces? Would he still travel day in and day out to luxurious countries of the world? Would he sometimes regret and forget?

As is he was still examining his chain of introspections, his eyes fell on the box made out of the finest rosewood in the universe. It lay there for quite a few years now. The maid dusted it from the outside, never bothering about its contents. The shimmer from the outside never faded. Suraj had carefully hidden her there. Though there was no place for her in his life now, he wanted her to be a part of his life. And she remained in the box, a part of his life, as a secret of the misty past, as a reminder of a world of ‘could have been’ to Suraj. There were many occasions when Suraj was tempted to open his well hidden past. But he was scared, scared to feel her olive skin against his, scared to rekindle the love, to reunite the passion, to lose himself into her undesirable spell. He would never let anyone, even his old love ruin his wonderful life of monopoly. He would never let anyone snatch him from the clutches of precious time he devoted for master minding ways to amass treasures.

He moved towards the box, each stride reminded him of mesmerizing moments of oneness he had enjoyed with her. With her, it was a different world, a world unknown to the known, a world where spirits danced to the glory of cheerful melodies, a world where he used to get lost and find himself. A longing for a companion on that solitary night of a new beginning made him open the box. There, she lay, the way he had left her eons ago.

Suraj was fifteen years old when he had first fallen in love. On the sunny afternoon of his birthday, his father had brought her home. She was wrapped in the golden flames of gift paper and had brought a glow to Suraj’s face when he opened his gift box. He had a flair for music from a very young age, and had expressed his desire to learn violin in the following years. His parents had catered to his wish and gifted him a violin on his fifteenth birthday. For the next few years, Suraj spent most of his free time with his new found love. He played beautifully, the melancholy of his soothing union with his violin created a world of cheer around him. He loved playing his violin when he was sad, when he was happy, when he was angry, when he was lonely. She seemed inseparable from the very existence of his soul. Everyone around him thought, he would be a violinist, a terrific one that is, but the future had other plans.

The love for money overshadows the love for everything else. A corporate career brought home a new love for Suraj. Tempted luxuries tampered his love for his violin. With time, he got so busy that tunes of cheer dissolved themselves into the ocean of green cherish. One fine day, he put her away in the box made from fine rosewood, and there she lay, forgotten, unloved, separated.

He picked her up, like a gentleman lifting his lady love for a moment of desire. As the night stroll to a new beginning, the magic was rekindled. He felt happy, he felt satisfied, and he felt himself. He let the moment transcend for the whole night, the new year had given his life a new direction, pointing towards old ways. He wondered how many cameras, pens, books, palettes lay hidden is the rusts of ‘old love’ all over the world…


By Kannan G:

Rats nibble at body of man paralyzed in ICU
I wonder who or what there really was lying paralyzed!
Incidence of child malnutrition comes shocking all at once
I wonder why this shameful shock wasn’t but earlier realized!

Fire engulfs high-profile hospital and guiltless patients die
So many wise policies and safety measures lie immobilized!
Nursing staff tells suppressed tales of tortures and tribulations
The health of our nation seems injected with needles unsterilized!

Incidence of such incidents, callous, shocking, on the rise —
Indifference and incompetence need to be keenly analyzed!
Such indifference is equal to obnoxious rape of humanity
Such incompetence, equal to murder of governance, unpenalized!

The blame for such blunders and blemishes, sure, lies on all of us
All sections of society need now to be greatly galvanized!
Concrete actions not mere debates are now the need of the hour
It’s high time honesty and commitment gets fruitfully optimized!


By Aishwarya Sharma:

What was my fault,
Please, just tell me that
Six million of my brothers
All crushed like gnats.

Each day was misery
Each night an uneasy horror,
Because, some were missing each day
Courtesy the gas chamber.

Oby dies because he was a musician,
Julius, because he was too old
And the entire Perlmann clan was murdered
As young joseph was becoming a bit too bold.

Things went from bad to worse,
There was no hope of them getting any better
Into our lives entered Amon Goeth
And he was a sadistic nutter.

He killed and pillaged and killed again,
He was a psychopathic creep,
He enjoyed the power he held in his hands,
The sadistic freak.
Death lurked everywhere
And nothing we could do
No guidelines to follow, no rules to keep
Just a small prayer
That when the shots rang out
It wasn’t your family that was left to weep.

Homes were taken away
And businesses were looted
And just like that
We were all uprooted
Herded into concentration camps
And then our labours started
We all heaved a sigh of relief
And thought we had death outsmarted.

For the Germans may be sadists
But they weren’t fools
And the fact that we worked in their industries
Would surely cause their hot heads to cool.

But the killings only increased in frenzy
And none were spared
All over the german streets
Jewish blood was smeared.

But when the night is darkest
Can dawn be far behind?
Herr Schindler came to our rescue
He was a God to our minds.

He fought for us, and risked for us
Everything he had earned
He played a very dangerous game
And could have been burned.

He made a list
And names of Jews were typed
He saved so many like me
Before all of us were wiped.

The list was good, it was a gem
The list signified life,
It gave us hopes and dreams
In a world of horror and strife.

My body might have survived
But my heart is still not free
Sure I live my ‘life’
But all I do is just breathe.
When they were killing, I longed to live
And now that they have stopped I wish to die.

The horrors I have seen
Have numbed my brain
I cannot forget those bodies
Or those Auchwitz bound trains.

All I know is
Humanity had to pay a steep price
For the follies of few.
‘SIX MILLION’ humans were killed
Their Crime — They were Jews.


By Devika Mittal:

I grew up with My kitchen set,
Grew up buying clothes for My Barbie,
wearing colourful frocks myself,
I grew up trying on my mother’s make-up
And with the scolding for the same,
I grew up admiring the gorgeous and always helpless heroines,
Grew up with secretly idolizing them,
Tried adopting the painful heels,
Subscribed to ask Pooja, Linda, Cathy.

But then one day,
The lightning of “liberation” stuck.
All this objectifies us, they alleged,
Makeup for male gaze,
Skirts for their fantasy.
My floaters replaced all other footwear,
Earlier the world was between feminine and masculine,
Now it was between feminine and feminist.

My friend’s bangles became a disputed issue,
A ‘girly’ voice became a target,
If earlier if it was all white,
Now it was all black,
Still no shades of grey.
And It was also internalized now…
And my mind was now a seat of conflict.

My mind, my conscience restricted me now,
Restricted me to follow the “restrictions”.
In breaking the “glass ceiling”,
I constructed a new one.
In ‘exploring’ myself,
I lost myself.
But now I wish to really break ‘free’.

And the ‘freedom’ may consist of
Going ‘back’ or moving ‘forward’,
May be full of contradictions,
Of hypocrisies and of confusions.
But then will this be ‘feminism’ I wonder?
But should I really care, if it is not, I wonder again.

Whether “WOMAN” has “MAN” in it
Or “MAN” comes from “WOMAN”,
It is ultimately we who shall decide
And this power of decision is Feminism,
Or atleast it is, according to me.

Lonely girl

By Reena Prasad:

Reminiscences stuffed into frayed pockets, she walked
in no particular direction, going as far as house waste goes
In search of a treasure trove of stinking landfills
Tattered as her life of forty, are her gathered clothes
Fading grey underskirt with trailing,weeping ends
ignorant of the boundaries that defined the sari-remains above.


She poked around the stagnant mound, not particular about any find
Bits of plastic, broken bottles, an abandoned diary of teenage throes
All lay in companionable silence in her brown sack of unwanted orphans
She picked in silence, watched by a scraggly, one-eyed, stubbed tail cat
Twin wandering souls, united in casual neglect, relegated to the night-soil trenches.
Previous birth karma, wrinkled noses, anti-beggar sentiments and disgust compete for supremacy.


By Ratnesh Pandey:

Demon of death yet again strikes,
time has come to pay the debt of our lives.

Multitude of feelings in my heart rise
entrenched memories of my life
the day I mumbled “ma”
the day I was named after my father’s name
the day I met the love of my life
the day I took her to be my wife
love, joy, laughter and sorrow befriended
would cherish all in hour of fame

I stand strong amidst horror and gore
here guns cry, tanks roar
walking on paths, blood turned sour
life here is devils whore

I may not live the day to see
a part of me; grow into “me”
I ain’t sorrow, no remorse
for I lived my life the way I chose

All I now expect from you
live your life well and good
so that one day, when I meet you
you look into my eyes and say



By Reeti Singh:

When shattered pieces of glass lie flat out there on the floor,
And I know you are here not, here not now, here no more….
Wishes blink, the mind yet fears-
Loosing you, sleeping no more in your arms,
Having you around no more when night yet falls…

Lie alone I in our bed, alone and alone, all yet alone-
Alone, all cold-
Old and quiet… need I now so much your being,
Need I now so much your touch-
Need I now so much your love,
Need you now-
Need you so much…

Its all so eerie-
You were here last night,
Last night when our breaths blew smoke-
Last night when you held me tight,
When we cuddled and slept in sweet delight-
Last night when the world went still,
It was here that we lay, naked, robed in content-bliss…

I hug now the sheets, all alone and bare-
Nothing but the dust of your unkept hair,
One that made me so very mad at you all the time-
Come now back, with your dandruff-filled hair,
Have I nothing, but your dust tonight, dust from the head-
Dust from your eyes, that filled me with love,
Filled me with delight…

Come back now, oh, come back tonight-
Lie alone I in our bed, alone and alone, all yet alone-
Alone, all cold-
Alone all night,
Alone all day, alone tonight…

The wind yet blows,
I stare at the open window.
Footsteps carry me from here to the knife-
I sit here now, where you sat often, the chair near the window-
With the arm rest on one side…

I raise my wrist-
And right where you kissed,
Slash I now, little marks right there and my hips-
Little wounds that burn in sweet delight,
Blood that flows like your endless life-
I head to you now as my eyes feel heavy,
I come to you now, where the world is all merry…

Here I come, oh, here I come-
Death shall do us apart no more.
Love shall cease not to bleed and die-
I shall not sleep alone, or I shall sleep no more,
Death shall do us apart no more…

As drops now fall,
Drop down on the floor-
It dawns on me you are here no more!
I seek now to zip back little mistakes I made-
Slashes that made no sense but blinded faith,
Dead not is what I shall be-
I shall live, shall cut your birthday cake.
Year after year if that is what it takes-
I shall keep you alive,
Alive with every single birthday cake.

Days,months , a whole year has now passed-
Your birthday is here,
Here at last!
bake I your cake, sweet and fresh-
Very carefully cast.

Sweet it is as I sit once again on the chair where I once sat bare-
Cake that I cut and a cut that I make,
Here it is, your birthday cake!
Death shall do us apart no more,
Drip-drop blood drops that drop on the floor-
Alone I sit here bare on your chair,
It is your birthday, darling, come cut your cake-
Here I come with your birthday cake…

God's hand

By Ayushi Vats:

Lets not wonder anymore…
The more I suffer the more I score…
Lets wait for the sun to shine…
And let the pleasure of pain be mine…

As it shines in the morn,
The darkness..the gloom seems gone,
But here I rest as the untamed shadow
I beseech, Lets clear the cobwebs. Let the panorama grow.

Let everythin’ b at peace,
let me get outta my selfish feelin’
lets not get baffled nymre,
lets forget what the darkness says,
and let me stand on the thorny ways…
the more I suffer the more I shine,
and let the pleasure of pain be mine…

I shall bestow upon thou the pleasure of pain
In a dither, to surmise what outta this thou gain
The brightness of the sun is more solicited than the spread dim
I wonder.. how the bereaved(thou) sustains. No more pain shall I inflict on him.
Repression shall not hail any more. It now seeks a halt…
Should thou plead liasioning. Then apprise me. Be there no fault.
Come.approach.urge for me.
words assured.
I shall be there. Waiting in glee.

Then listen…
What shall I do with all the days and hours that must be counted ere I see thy face?
How shall I charm the interval that lowers between this time n that sweet time of grace…

The bridge. The distance that has been drafted
Has been drafted for a cause.
Engaging , with no peace. We sought a pause
Distance makes the heart grow fonder
Plead for me. No new execution requisite. Thou shall not ponder
I shall be present in your existence,
Thou shall then breathe.survive.sustain. alive shall be the sense
Betwixt thou and me. Rests a veil. I shall reveal me to thou
Togetherness.communion shall then persist. The bridge shall then bow.
Towards thou have I advanced.
At The vista have I glanced.
I am proceeding. So shall thou.
We be accomplices no more a foe.

Then all I can sustain to wish is;
may the boulevard rise up to meet you…
May the wind be ever at your back,
may the sun shine warm upon thy face…
And the rain fall softly on thy place and.
Until we meet again, may God hold you in hollow of his hand…


By Ayushi Vats:

Let the Darkness prevail.
Hindered be the view. My sight restricted.
I am not deprived of any prospects.
Darkness lets me imagine.
It makes me dream. It’s the truth to me.
I am filled up till the brim when I dream.
And that is the only eternal verity.

Light hampers it. It elicits me out of my mind’s eye.
I am alone, when I am surrounded. I am mute, when I speak.
I am wounded to walk. I am blind when I look.

I am mighty when held.
I flow when constrained
I want to be what I cannot
Not viable? Why?

I am beautiful too.
I voice too.
I rise. I breathe. I pray. I lay.
I cry. I laugh. I fall. I stumble.
I am. I am. Am I not? I want. Is that the fault?

Flourish before I decay.
Nourish before I am the prey.

Envy. Loath. Lust. Pride.
Gluttony. Wrath. Greed.
Descend upon my chest.
Belittle me.
Embrace me into acedia.
I am away from belief now.
I am at bay from relief now.

I am Alone. I am Darkness.
I am Envious. Lustful. Prideful.
I loathe. I plant greed.
I am not reverential. I don’t know altruism.
I keep to me. In the Dark, I hold onto me.
Yes, Dark and Dim. Gloom and Grim.

Darkness, shall prevail. Perish.

Beautiful Earth

By Reena Prasad:

Look out of bare windows
into the sea of flickering lives.
Let us draw aside the curtains
that shroud our open eyes.

Aiming for the highest peak
yet scared of the trembling earth
Walking moonless on the beach
yet wary of ocean’s slightest mirth.

Eons of passing time and nature
can only nudge the solid rocks.
We poke our fingers into nuclear hollows
causing accelerations and energy blocks.

Tectonic plates sashay apart
divorced from decaying locks,
Angry forces gather momentum
splitting the earth, shattering rocks.

We dig deep into her core
eroding the life forces in our way.
Sucking vital fluids, looting precious stones
triggering off vicious cycles of decay.

Egoistic explosives roar under sand and sea,
each pretending to be powerfully smart.
Hacked lifeline rivers gag with human wastes.
fragile eco-systems drag concrete carts.

Who destroyed the Earth tree, Mama?
Unborn generations silently scoff.
We were foolish, forgive us Children,
we sat on the lone branch and cut it off.

It is a shame that we disrespect the very land that gives us home, shelter, food and an environment worth living in. If you want you children to have a better future, start now – spread awareness, encourage people to join in and be more responsible.

Taj Hotel

By Nilima Chaudhary:

Painted with blood,
echoing with lifeless pain.
Empty spaces inside,
fuming with shame.
Revengeful sensations;
a routine game?

Bodies charred,
lay in chaotic fashion.
Amidst lost identities
and a not-so-sweet surrender.
Rumpled arrays of
fine sophistication.

In the palpitating world,
dwells the revulsive mind,
bordered with obvious fear.
Beneath the camouflaged faces
lie questionable lives,
surrounded with illusionary freedom.


By Jyoti Singh:

How long did it take,
for the world to change?
Once a beloved,
now a nursing maid.

The presence of life once felt
with fun and frolic,
now the pleasure is sardonic.

The pallid sunset
threatens the memory of day.

My reflections now
filthy and sordid today.
The swelling moon now,
invites the swooning fate.
Should I wake up to lie again?


By Prabjot Kaur:

Do me a favor when I die,
Shed a tear from your eye

This is all I can want,
That’s too grand to have got

I never cheated, I never thought,
That you won’t trust me, as you are all that I have got

You poached my heart today,
I have just nothing to say

I wish to die once again,
With a broken heart all over again

A third person couldn’t have told,
What I wanted so badly in this world

I don’t deserve you, maybe I think,
That’s why this happened in a wink

Just do me a favor when I die,
Shed a tear from your eye

I never cheated, I never can,
It got as complicated as it ever can

I won’t ask of forgiveness from you,
As I know I did nothing wrong.

It’s just confusion that created this all,
All you know is a false

When you asked me to be happy,
I wanted to tell that “YOU” is all that makes me happy

All this pain I could not bear,
Will see you in heaven someday I swear.

Think about all I said,
I never lied, I never can…

I believed in you just so bad,
Closed my eyes walked hand in hand.

To you it wouldn’t matter and you won’t care now,
I made you lose all your faith in me somehow.

But do a favor when I die,
Just shed a tear from your eye

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