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.

A Little Peace- Arjun Malhotra

A little peace

I cry my world down.

It feels like shadows ripping me out.

It's the fear of my actions repenting.

It's the fear of an unhappy sound.

Emotionally, physically, life's a let down,

The bright stars in the night sky are the little hopes that I hang on.

I am breaking down,

A little peace I am crying now

No one understands the threads I hold onto,

How easy would they break,

You scream on and on, and how my heart's holding on to a lonely smile.

Easy I come and, Easy I go,

Everywhere of lonely woes,

I feel you are here and then

In seconds there's no one to turn to.

There's a fall coming and I have no one to turn to.

Then life's looking me down, it's hanging me out, would anyone just hug me tight?

A little peace,

I hope for,

a little hope that it'll be alright.

This Story is About We- Emine Sharma

This story isn’t about me.

They always ask, what’s your story?

Ego jumps up and says I, ME!

Ego puts that mask on and

Performs!

Says HERE.I.AM!

But then is shattered by the breeze

Because

We forget the pronoun We.

This story starts in 1951

A baby boy was born in Turkey

This story starts in 1954

A baby girl was born in Detroit.

And the many babies before that,

Until one day this baby was born.

This story is about the Turkish boy

Holding his baby brother

Saying, “Anne make him stop bleeding!”

After the bang of a gun.

This is story is about a girl living

In a country that screamed FREEDOM!

But credit cards aren’t for you ladies, that and so much more.

A country that scream FREEDOM for the whole world to hear!

But was lynching those with melanin,

Only one generation ago, which is quite near.

This story is about a girl growing up in the 90’s

With this itching, gnawing, anxious feeling

That something just wasn’t quite right.

But how could she know?

So she never trusted it.

So it never went away.

It waited.

This story is about a teenage girl in the 60’s

5th of 9 in her family

The only one to make it through college.

“Just because we are poor, doesn’t mean we have to look it.” She would absently say.

That feeling again, the 90’s girl thought.

That line came from long ago,

Well before the 50’s.

This story is about that Turkish boy

With a scholarship,

Sent to the land of freedom

After both his parents had died.

Ah, but this pity party man!

That damn bottle.

Those damn drugs.

The numbing.

The self-loathing.

What a waste of this precious human life.

Enough.

Look around, we’re in this together.

This story is about life.

And the lies we tell ourselves about our differences.

The lies we spew to keep that child safe inside.

Don’t feel they say.

Don’t cry they say.

Don’t tell anyone they say.

Don’t trust them they say.

Make that money they say.

I know you understand me,

even though we come from opposite sides

Of this Mother Earth.

Different? But how?

Our togetherness is delightful.

We are children longing to play.

We are children standing at opposite ends of the playground

too shy to take that first step and say,

“What’s your name? Cool, come on, you're with me.”

These stories aren’t about you or me.

They are about those who passed.

Those who tried.

And those who finally said I trust this feeling,

I don’t know where I will go,

But feeling take me.

That knowing.

That thread that binds us all.

Can you feel it?

I know you can.

Don’t be afraid to tug on it.

Reel it in.

Sew it into your skin.

Make a quilt.

Bring it close.

Wrap it around you.

And fall deep into its love.

This story is about the smile on a

toddler’s face as his mother carries bricks.

This story is about the girl screaming, “Mama!”

As she takes another hit.

This story is about a garden blooming

Sowed with hands of love.

This story is about laughter more contagious

then COVID ever was.

This is about the music

pulsating in our hearts.

It’s about that dance floor

as we move together as one part.

This is about the languages,

spoken and those universally known.

Like the love between two strangers

when their hearts finally connect.

Aha! I see you! Without a word said.

That gleam on their faces.

I don't know the sounds from your mouths,

but I feel you.

Time and time again

Great minds say,

“Look around you!

What miracle do you need?

It’s all right in front of you!”

The growth of a seed.

The birth of a baby.

The weather.

The colours.

The water.

The peaks.

The breath.

The heartbeat.

Whenever you feel hopeless,

Alone and misunderstood.

It’s that feeling saying,

“Go deep, girl.

Trust me and let go.

Have the courage to free your mind

Despite your physical constraint.

I am here with you.

For you are me,

And don’t you ever forget about the We.”

व्यथा स्त्रीची- Swati Gore

व्यथा स्त्रीची

रस्त्यावरून चालताना एखादी मुलगी दिसली की हरवून बसता भान

पण तिच्याकडे वाईट नजरेने बघताना खाली का जात नाही मान..

महिला पुरुषांच्या बरोबरीला आल्या म्हणून करता हो सत्कार

एवढ्या संघर्षातून बरोबरीला आल्या तरी थांबत नाही हो बलात्कार..

कधी बस,मध्ये कधी रेल्वेमध्ये,तर कधी नजरेनेही करता वार

आईच्या पोटातून जन्म घेण्याआधीच करून टाकता तिला ठार..

बाहेरचे तर आहेतच घरचा बापही जातो तिच्या वाट्याला

कसलाही विचार न करता

परका करतो बाप आणि लेकीच्या नात्याला..

चार-पाच वर्षांच्या मुलींना नाही ओळखता येत हो समोरच्याचे मन

म्हणूनच हिरावून घेता का त्यांचे आनंदी बालपणाचे क्षण..

कधी कधी प्रश्न पडतो का स्त्री सुरक्षित नाही आपल्या देशात

कारण तो नराधामच असतो घरी आपल्या भावाच्या वेशात..

एवढं करून उजळ माथ्याने फिरताय कसला एवढा माज..

तुम्ही पण एका स्त्रीच्या पोटी जन्म घेतला याची तरी ठेवा लाच..

विचार केला कविता करून काय उपयोग पण म्हटलं माझं मत तरी मांडेल

कदाचित माझी कविता वाचून

एखादा बलात्कार तरी थांबेल..

Kaun hun main - Somya Gupta

कौन हूं मैं?

क्या वो जिसे एक मां ने जन्म दिया है,

जिसे यहां के बटवारों की खबर नहीं

जो इस दुनिया में "जीने" आई है

रोते हुए,

पर हसने के लिए।

या फिर हिंदू, मुस्लिम, सिख, ईसाई, वो.. आपस में हैं भाई भाई।

इनमें से कोई हूं

कौन हूं मैं?

वो जिसे मंदिर जाकर पूजा करनी चाहिए

दरगाह में मत्था टेकना शोभा नहीं देता,

कौ़म के खिलाफ जाओगे?

Male हूं, female हूं, या from LGBTQ+

कौन हूं मैं?

लोग कहते हैं, Romantic relation सिर्फ opposite gender में होते हैं,

In same gender, ये तो यहां पाप है।

लड़की हुं तो रात को अकेले बाहर कैसे निकल सकती हूं

लड़का हूं तो घर बैठ कर घर के काम

खानदान की नाक कटानी है?

संस्कारी लड़की हूं या वो,

लड़कों के साथ घूमने फिरने वाली

ओह, तो आवारा हूं मैं

कौन हूं मैं?

बेटी हूं, बहू हूं तो कुछ नियम कानून हैं

अपनी जिंदगी के अहम फैसले खुद नहीं ले सकती।

बेटा हूं, पति हूं तो घर का सारा ज़िम्मा सिर्फ मेरे कंधो पर

वरना मर्दानगी, कम नई हो जाएगी?

डॉक्टर हूं, इंजीनियर हूं, या CA

हम एक reputed society में रहते हैं

Profession भी reputed होना चाहिए।

या मैं एक मामूली कलाकार हूं

जो इन रंगो में डूबा है।

कौन हूं मैं?

खैर आपके हिसाब से मैं जो भी हूं

पर इन सब के ऊपर,

मैं बस एक इंसान हूं‌

जो यहां "ख़ुश" रहने आया है

बस।

An Age of Charlatanism- Tanya Rampal

(In memory of Allen Ginsberg)

I have seen the greatest mansions of our age

standing on half land- half air,

harbouring half knowledge, half sanity,

half ideas, half tenderness,

half patience, half strength

and fragments of dejected souls

Mansions made of half bricks, half water,

half cement, half clay,

half sludge, half gibberish,

and powdered corpses of childhood-passions

Mansions painted with half regrets

masquerading as triumphs

Mansions built by and for sellers

of faded prints of their halves

and possessors of others’ quarters

Mansions that display

all those maimed possessions

Mansions that are half galleries- half houses

always open for a show

eager to absorb validation

as viewers gawk in half awe- half contempt

I have seen-

it’s the contempt that feeds the dejected souls

Until their hunger rises again for more

and when each more feels lesser than before-

They chase half enlightenment

bottled by half Gurus

sold by half humans

at their virtual stores

They rummage through an assortment

of recycled thoughts- before they pass out;

But when they are half asleep,

they dream of a sorceress

and her distant magick that is whole,

kneel before her-

and soak her blessed feet in tears

They ask, “O Goddess! Will I ever be whole?”

She roars, “Paint the canvas anew

Weave a new cloth

In an age of charlatanism-

find Magick

and Magick will make you whole.”

Zamana- Haleema Farooqi

Kyu zamane ke sau rang hote hain ya rab

Kyu zamane ka ek rang hota nhi ya rab

Bara mushkil hai ab is behr e zulmat me jeena

Bara mushkil hai ab is daara e ujlat me marna

Yahan sau log Hain sau andaaz e adaa wale

Phir us andaaz ke sau rang aur shauq niraale

Jise samjho ki ye to hai tasweer wafa ki

Wo zara der me ban jaata hai kahani si dagha ki

Yahan chalakiyon ko hasil hai ek azeem sa rutba

Yahan maasoomiyat ki kab koi qadr samajhta

Hai munafiqat har cheez har shai pe ghaalib

Or zamana bhi to har dam inhi logo ka hai taalib

Koi khaamosh hai gar toofan e dil ki badolat

Kehte hain usse log ye dikhawe ki hai aadat

Hairan hu mai ye dekhkar, ke apne bhi yahan par

Ghair hone me wo taakheer karte nhi aksar

Kaash! Aa jaye koi aesa bhi is jahan me

Jo dhare kaan mere is andaaz e bayan me

Magar afsos ki aaya nahi koi aesa bashar

Jo karde is zamane ke in haalat ko behtar

Ae khudaya! Meri tujhse ye Tamanna hai bari

Ke mera lab ye Mera dil bass Tera hi ho har ghari.

My Damaged Soul- Saniya Takshak

My Damaged Soul

After long in the daylight of the day

Now, the time has come to sleep in the sparkling moonlight.

But I wish I never woke up the next day.

I want to sleep forever.

Never be alive again in this world of evil

But the creator of this world has not given that right

My soul is now tired of alive

It wants to sleep forever

My brain is now smarter

but my soul has lost all its purity now

But to survive, I have to be wicked as others and try to show myself as a superpowered being

My purity has not been recognized by anyone and is considered deceit

My soul has­­­­­­ damaged very badly now that I do not believe in its restoration again.

But some say time heals

Will this ointment of time work on it?

Or will it also lose its purity in this unpure world?

Though, if it loses I will remain wounded as before.

लापता - Shruti Takshak

जी रहा था मै यू यहाँ

हर कड़ी मै बेपनाह

हर उम्मीदों के सागर में

मै हूँ मेरे लिए लापता

जी रहा हूँ मै यूँ यही

ना मुझे हैं कुछ पता

हैं हताशा जो मन में

मुझको खोती है हर जगह

हूँ समुद्र के तट में

सारी नदियों से मै जुदा

है कहानी ये मेरी

जिसमे मै गुमसुम खड़ा

भला इस जहान मे

क्यों मै मेरे लिए लापता

If only i could paint the sky- Jasreet Kaur

Painting stars in the daylight

Painting clouds through the night

Painting with just red and blue

But covered in orange and yellow too

If only I could paint the sky with

Colors full of jitter and joy

The chirping birds to quiet down

The thunderstorm to take the high

Not today I want to feel the thrill

Instead get hugged by a melancholic shrill

Feel the calmness of the life

Cause time timely passes by

Maybe someone wishes the same

Maybe someone feels this way

Maybe it's time to sit down

And let the world rush around

Cause beauty isn't in the storm passing by

But dancing with the rain in delight

Breathing ecstasy with the torrent storms

Or bewailing loss of a lover so gone

Beauty isn't in the heat of day

But letting the sun guide the way

Acting crazy with rainbow’s colors

Or humming songs by the hours

A simple storm, a fancy rain

A tiny little child's play

A charging fall or blooming snow

A rainbow and a few clouds also

If only I could paint the sky

I'll paint it with colors, those so bright

Indigo violet pink in green

Feelings with the colorful beam…..