Continued Journey


THE EDITING STARTUP


A cold, dark hand burrows its way,
through the dingy caved-in tunnels,
of my heart.
And it squeezes my arteries,
deep inside me.
I feel my soul, gasping for breath,
for freedom.
A sour lemon in the hands of an angry giant.
The conflict rages on without pause,
A calm, collected veneer hides it all.
A sheet of ice, reflecting what they want to see.
And thus, no one is the wiser,
when I die a little with every passing minute,
as the giant gets angrier, and my soul gasps some more.
And no one knows, that I died on the floor,
Lay down, giving it all up, but then,
I wake back up to reality,
to the comforting mundane-ness of a common day.
As reality cannot be lived on the floor,
I stand up on unsteady legs,
And resume my shaky journey, once again.


Your Judgement


EDITOR: ADITYA PRAKASH

The thoughts that remain on your lips.
The ghosts of those thoughts,
They haunt me.
They hound me,
because you won’t ever say.
Whether or not
I erred in my ways.
You never speak up,
But those ghosts,
They haunt me anyway.

Accusingly,they watch me, your eyes.
Evaluating me, pronouncing me guilty.
Guilty of a crime,
A crime I know not.
Your wishes,
I cannot read them, or you.
I cannot fathom those myriad words.
That you always leave unsaid.
Is that the crime I’m guilty of?
Is that for which I’m haunted?

But without your judgement,
where would I be?
How would I know what I’m worth?
So, I do need you.
Judge me, accuse me with your eyes.
With those haunting thoughts of yours.
Spin me into a web,
A web that traps me in my final place.


Disease


Editor : Smriti Sharma 


A panic rises in my stomach
Tumultuous waves abound
Something rocks and something sinks
Deep, within my soul.

A chill settles in the depth of my bones
A shiver and clatter wakes the holy hells.
I feel a warm slap of air
Waking me up, again.

My heart thumps and flits about
Frantic attempts at sustaining life
It beats restlessly and relentlessly,
Beating me, yet again.

I retch, I shiver, I jerk about.
Symptoms of my disease.
I am diseased, it is true indeed.
But who can say you aren’t too?


Twigs Are Broken


EDITOR: ADITYA PRAKASH

Winter creeps up like a vine. 
Slowly yet suddenly you realize it’s there. 
A nip in the air, the scream of fairs. 
But in the same winter-time, 
Buds lie dormant as if they’re hearts, 
Afraid to speak their mind, 
Scared to see, hence act blind. 

Some trees remain covered in green. 
But some are left with bare hands. 
Looking like aliens from some distant lands. 
Because, in the same winter-time, 
Holidays go by with much fanfare, 
The season of togetherness, it’s said, 
But not for the shed leaf, lying, a lonely red, 

Light breaks in through the sea of fog. 
Happy crystals of sand glisten and glitter. 
Pokes in sad eyes, in them, water shimmers. 
Last season, in the same winter-time, 
A cold blast of air brought time-travelers. 
Memories of cracking and crushing of passion. 
When love was swept away in a current of fashion. 

The season of joy, of love, it’s celebrated. 
But none can fathom the pain within. 
When all the fears of the world go for a spin, I 
When love is in the air and beyond, 
I lost all of which I was fond. 
Not a man, not a bird, not a beast or a thing. 
But what I lost was an emotion, a useless fling. 
Last winter, on which day I cannot bet, 
The world stopped spinning when our eyes first met. 

Now that glint, that glimmer is gone. 
The interlude over, my life’s boring film still is on. 
Last when I saw you, I felt nothing, 
Except a damning emptiness, echoing, 
In it was your face and voice. 
So, in the next winter-time, 
When I see celebrations again next year 
In my mind will reverberate the pain and fear, 
Of losing  you and all my other feelings too. 
When the whole world was tying branches fallen, 
Somewhere, somehow, twigs of my heart were broken, by you. 


A Little Flashback


EDITOR :NAYANIKA GHOSH  | AUTHOR :RAMYA M SUNDARA


On a rainy day,
when I was waiting at a bus stop,
I saw a child with her dad
telling him that her day was bad;
He listened to her with utmost attention,
assuring her not to take tension!

That conversation took me back
to my own school memories;
It was like a quick flashback,
though it seemed like centuries!

No deadlines! No presentations!
Just fun and relaxation!
There was homework and test,
but we’d strive to do our best!
No one cared about calories;
as we savoured those cakes from bakeries!

My world was around my parents;
But now,
it’s around PPTs, projects and torrents!
Relaxation back then was
Chatting over chai, biscuits and snacks;
But now,
it’s just a massage for sore backs!

Back in our school ,
we’d never break any rule;
But as we grew up
we considered rules as “Old-School”!

Once back from school,
I’d narrate everything
and my parents would listen to it
like a rule!

When I came back
from my flashback;
My bus had come
to take me home;
And see those lovely two
Who would frequently call to ask,
“Beta, where are you?”

Before reaching home,
I bought some cakes and a flower
for each of them
and coffee with extra ‘crème’!

As soon as I reached home,
I gave them both a big hug;
They were surprised
And asked
“Is there anything special today?”
“It’s always special” said I,
“Not yesterday, not tomorrow, not today;
It’s you, my parents,
Who are special and make my day!
Not just today , But everyday!”


Stardust


ADITYA MANKAD

Twitter @Cheesy_Engineer | The Cheesy Engineer


At the inception of this starry night,
I saw a face so true,
A face that told me something,
About the things beyond the blue.
It told me how beautiful it is,
All that we cease to see,
Invisible to the naked eye,
As often the truth could be.

It has always been,
There and before the sea and crust,
We just fail to look beyond,
The things that we trust.
But today the curtain rises,
However late it might be,
For what comes once in a lifetime,
Is often endless as the sea.

I wish I could tell you how it looks,
But one has to see to feel,
Feel the heart beats of the stars,
As they start and stop in a beat.
It is not like the iron born,
That grows and rusts and dies,
They are but the births and deaths,
Of stars and stardust, they leave behind.

EDITOR: PANKAJ GAUTAM

Always With Me


 
I wake up to the sound of your steady breaths.

Your arm around me, so very close.
I rise and you rise with me.
I breathe and you breathe with me.

I feel so alone but, because you’re near
You become my cage, my shroud,
My shield, my armour, you keep me close.
So close, so dark; So close we almost touch.

Some days, you aren’t there.
Those days are scary, full of fear.
Naked without you, my dear shroud.
Too close to the other, with my cage lost.

But when you aren’t there,
Through the fear I rise. The real me.
I like that real me, not as much as you though.
You are, what I like best.
Even if you are whatever it is that you are.

EDITOR: PANKAJ GAUTAM