The Buddha Smiled by Tapan Kumar Pradhan

This poem was selected in the official longlist of Wingword Prize 2023. Top 200 participants were a part of the list

The world waited with bated breath

but the Buddha was calm, serene

like a lake of tranquillity

although there was no water in that lake

it was all sands, and only sands all around

hot sands, dusty winds and dancing mirages.

The Buddha had his eyes closed

no movement, no murmur in those lips

no blinking of eyelids

nothing ruffled that calm countenance –

marching of troops, arraying of arsenal 
surveillance of satellites, stacking of sand bags
arrival of ministers, helicopters, frantic phone calls –
The Buddha was unmoved…. Suddenly

the faint orange rays of morning sun broke into the cave
a white light glowed in the centre of the forehead -
Was it the moment before the enlightenment? 
The heart beat was slowing down
Ida and Pingala - Yin and Yang
electrons in halted motion
you could almost hear the anahata
in the secret chamber of the Buddha’s heart.

At eight hours five minutes sharp heart beat suddenly stopped
Shiva and Shakti were united, drawn magnetically into
the heart’s centre, electrons split, Kundalini fired
in a cataclysmic orgasm
shaking up the body in multiple tremors
pulsating through its myriad cells

In a blinding flash

the Third Eye blinked open

in a momentous quake

the earth was raised

a bellowing thunder

reverberated through firmament

as a cloud of sand dust

engulfed the horizon.

Pokhran was born. Pokhran was dead

in less than a millionth of a second :

the hymen of secrecy was breached for ever

the infant had become a big boy

at once shy and bold

with the suddenly acquired carnal knowledge

of creation and annihilation.

and then the Buddha smiled.

Poet’s note: “Smiling Buddha” was the code name of India’s first ever nuclear explosion at Pokhran Test Range on May 18, 1974 at 8:05 am. Little Boy and Fat Man were code names of the first nuclear bombs dropped on Japan in 1945.

Structure Shift | Ksanbor Shullai

If you’re wondering why countless copies of this poem rains down, once a year, in populated areas – that is by design. A cautionary tale sold as annual raining pamphlets beginning from the year 1024 AD onwards. The era when people really paid attention to poets.

This message has been sent from a souvenir library, a place years beyond your present, via the Time Machine Printer – that I built. A reminder of what we have lost and what you must cherish.

But really, did the poetry in those times actually have anything interesting going on. Phonies. Romanticism…? Pulp Paper…? Please. Future paper has a built-in interpreter.

In our time, two omniscient and omnipotent entities loam over the fate of mankind. Uprooting traditions and erasing history. I’ve seen Firsters with photographic memory implants, but omniscience? Please, no!

Let me give you some background on how I ended up here. After the Collapse of the AI uprising, I was born into the Structured Hierarchy era – the lovechild of socialism, capitalism and Feudalism.

The factory slum was where I grew up.

Firsters get control, Seconders get extravagance, Thirders get freedom, and we Fourthers get security and so forth. Everything was structured and agreed upon, even inequality - how cool is that?

As the motto goes, “The many stations upon the hill, with enough roses for everyone.” However, I’ve always had a thing for paradigm shifts.

The Industrial Revolution, Electricity, and the Apple 1, all achievements I dreamt of emulating in my stagnant times.

I met the brothers in the colony parking lot, who saw me while I was being shoved and kicked by corporate men for disturbing them with my quick business pitch of using multi-limp kids in their sweatshops.

My plan was to offer value – brilliant ideas for the Thirders, and unmatched engagement for the Seconders.

Gary, one of the brothers, stabbed them with a pen. Two dead - they fell on the spot. The others scattered away. You'd normally run away just after a murder, but I stayed and made the best deal of my life – took charge of the canon etched in time.

"Hello there," said Andy - the non-violent but still scary. "My brother and I were just scouting the area for quick business pitches before we chanced upon this potential homicide and had no choice but to intervene. Is this in prose?"

Gary is also a lot to handle, especially when he needs to get into character, that's when reality follows every act he sets in motion. Picture this: A force of nature with the flair of Tarantino.

Powers that can stage any outcome he wants to happen, happen.

“Let’s talk some more in our car,” said Gary still gripping the bloody pen in his hand. I went inside, immediately. “Please don’t hurt me.”

"See here, kid,” said Gary, “You know jack shit about human substance. Nobody is gonna care about your little experiments, alright? You're just an extra seeking attention. We can make it worth your while though, otherwise, hotshots like you always seem to find a working gun, especially when you start seeing yourself as more of a stem than a flower. I’ll give you this, the whole sequence of events is flower-like in its own right; the beauty of human relations."

"Do you want me to do something violent, Sir?" I asked, now inside the car with the noisy trunk.

He replied, "Not if it isn't earned."

Andy, being the sly devil that he is, said all the right things I wanted to hear - the business of expanding human capacity and what not.

“Combine humanity and technology in sublime harmony, in a ‘Walt Whitman’s battle against eternity’ type of way,” could have been said by either of us.

He told me that after we were done, even the meaning of words themselves will be at our disposal, I could even recite all the powers of 2 without any implants, and that made me pleased my pants a little – the second time that day.

We prospered from that time onwards - exploring our 256th solar systems this coming Sunday - where minimal exertion gives the most impact.

I modified culture like a Shakespearean madman with a wrench.

Over the many centuries, I’ve made everything from water cleaning robots that can spike your pool with any psychedelic you want, to Dyson spheres and wormhole builders for never running out of charging spaces.

I created Green – a canary; a bird on my shoulder programmed to defend – to keep me company. I’ve turned the Earth from blue to disco piss, with all the neon tech covering every inch of the globe – combined with psychedelically tainted, orange oceans.

“End (insert world problem)” they say. I say, “What do you say?” They say “Please” and “thank you.”

The brothers were never seen together again after that day; it was either one or the other. I still have no idea what they ultimately gain from this play – their strength is already beyond what any human can muster.

I’ll just breakdown my end-of-civilization mishaps, for those reading this in a hurry. The type of people who can only handle recaps. The target audience I aim to please.

Give people intelligent molecular cells and they'll start finding immortality mundane, pretty soon. Let them simulate infinite realities, unrestricted, and they'll instantly dissolve. They don’t mind merging into a hive mind spaceship – permanently cutting ties with this world.

That thing is now cruising through the universe on massive Id powered batteries, covered by a thin foil of industrial-made Superego – committing extra-terrestrial genocide across the cosmos for the sake of their luxurious longevity.

Only 16 of us remain now, living in an abandoned reality.

Andy’s data district was my only hope at stopping their schemes. I formulated a plan to sneak in, but Andy caught me in the entrance hallway. My pants were pleased, once again.

He proceeded to monologue, "Our Fabricator of reality, have you come to expose the secrets kept from humanity? According to the optics, there are none. ‘Freedom...?' They can get any symbol they want.

The past will eventually devolve into simple signs. There are no values that can escape progress. People will flock to it, no matter what you tell them.

However, I do admire how you can somehow manage to hook a few of them.

Free will is still a thing, go to the theatres or something. You don’t have to write anything. What is it now? Ballad form...?”

He leaned over and whispered, "No one will believe this part." He then transformed into a Decepticon and jetted away.

After that, I headed for the media room where I had my last encounter with Gary, who was killed by Green surprisingly easy.

Shot itself right through his brains, as soon as he made his dramatic entrance from behind the rows of servers and screens.

Blood splattered on the monitors which now displays a hidden title, "This means nothing."

Was that the scene? Great! More pls.

And finally, the library room was just ahead. Being an over-glorified canon printer, my time machine needed testing.

It wouldn’t have needed testing if I had designed it better but I had allocated too much time and effort into writing this, which has left me deeply frustrated.

I should have let AI do the job.

So for testing purposes, I wrote a small piece – in homage to Plato – detailing the despicable nature of poetry. That is, after finishing my Breaking Bad binge. The show was just sitting on the library desktop where I’m writing this from.

With the test paper being successfully sent back to ancient Athens, a few copies showering the Dionysia festival of 512 BC, I am finally done.

Things here won’t change a damn, but your future generations might just yet survive. And maybe send some help here after you figure things out over there.

Ps, the Simulacrum Wars: Endgame is coming this Friday. I would ask the others to join me, but half of them are chronically addicted to heroin and hentai.

Silent Struggles | Srishti Singh

The world around him moves at a dizzying pace,

Days blur into nights, time slips through his grasp.

But for him, time stands still, each moment an eternity,

Trapped in this darkness, unable to break free.

The darkness descends like a heavy cloak,

Wrapping around his shoulders, suffocating his hope.

No one seems to notice, no one seems to care,

As he struggles through each day, fighting this silent despair.

His loved ones go about their lives, unaware of the pain,

Unable to see the turmoil that rages inside his brain,

He puts on a brave face, he smiles and nods and pretends,

But inside he is screaming, his heart on the mend.

He struggles to concentrate, his thoughts a jumbled mess,

He feels like a burden, a failure, a hopelessness.

He loses interest in the things that used to bring him joy,

He feels isolated, disconnected, a mere shadow of a boy.

He fights with his partner, his patience wearing thin,

He snaps at his children, his temper frayed within.

He pushes away his friends, his energy sapped and drained,

He feels like a shell, an empty vessel, his soul feigned.

Meet Gabriel, a man like any other,

A husband, a father, a friend to his brother,

But behind closed doors, he's consumed by the gloom,

Feeling lost and alone in a world that assumes.

He tries to reach out, to ask for some aid,

But the words get stuck in his throat, afraid of the judgment and the blame.

So he suffers in silence, a prisoner of his mind,

Hoping that someday, he'll be able to leave this behind.

Melancholy is a cruel and cunning foe,

It steals the light and the joy, leaving one feeling low

But there is hope; there is a way out,

If one just reaches out, if one lets oneself shout.

The road to recovery may be long and winding,

Full of ups and downs, twists and turns that can be blinding.

But don't give up, don't lose sight of the light,

Hold on to hope, and you'll eventually win the fight.

It takes strength to face the struggles we endure,

But strength can be found in vulnerability, of that I am sure.

So let go of the shame, and let go of the fear,

And let the love and support of those around you draw near.

Remember, you are not defined by your struggles,

You are so much more than the pain that huddles

Inside of you, threatening to take over,

But with help and support, you can rediscover

The joy and happiness that life has to offer,

And leave the silent struggles behind forever.

So don't be afraid to ask for help,

To share your struggles and your pain.

There are those who care, who will listen and understand,

Who will be there for you; hand in hand.

Your Love | Ramsreenath Ramachandran

Days and weeks have gone by

My life has become a dead fly

It seems like I'm chasing a white elephant

As each of my efforts is hit by impediment.

I'm broken, shaken, and feel forsaken

Even by people whom i call family

You are the only exception

For your love is the beacon that brings me home from sea.

I seek a better life, a better career

To flourish in this world of rat race

I also put my heart and soul in prayer

But I keep falling flat on my face.

I'm broken, shaken, and feel forsaken

Even by people whom i call family

You are the only exception

For your love is the vision that helps my fatigued eyes to see.

I try to soldier on with hopes of a future bright

Despite all the hindrances in sight

Having you by my side gives me the courage to put up a fight.

I am blessed to have you, for your love is always a source of my delight.

नारी तू अबला नहीं | Nikita Gupta

नारी तू अबला नहीं, ना ही तू बेचारी है।

दुर्गा तू,लक्ष्मी तू, तू ही महाकाली है।।

जननी तू, करनी तू, तू ही दुष्टो की संघारनी।

ज्ञान के दीपक से जो सबका कल्याण करें तू ही वो वीणा धारिणी।।

खुद को पहचान, तू ना ही किसी के दया की मारी है।

खुद की शक्ति को जान, तू अकेले ही सब पर भारी है।।

तू शारदा, तू जगदंबा, तू ही नारायणी।

तू अन्नपूर्णा, तू गृहिणी, तू ही गंगा पावनी।।

किसने कहा, है तू किसी से भी कम।

उठ, चल दिखा दे सबको, है तुझमें कितना दम।। है तुझमें वो सामर्थ्य, है तुझमें वो ज्ञान।

लोगों की सोच बदले तू कर कुछ ऐसा काम।।

मत भूल, है तू वो वीरांगना जिसने अंग्रेजो को धूल चटाई थी।

अपने सम्मान के लिए, तू अग्निपरीक्षा भी पार कर आई थी।।

उठ विरोध कर, अन्याय को ना सह।

तू खुद में ही परिपूर्ण है, फिर किस बात का है तुझे भय।।

तू करुणा का सागर, तू ममतामई देवी है।

कर संकल्प फिर तुझे अग्निपरीक्षा कभी ना देनी है।।

मत भूल, नहीं है कुछ ऐसा इस ब्रह्मांड में, जो तू ना कर सके।

कुछ कर ऐसा, नारी है तू नारी, तू यह सब को गर्व से कह सकें।।

तू है सक्षम, तूने लहराया अपना परचम।

तू ही रक्षक, ना बनने दे किसी को अपना भक्षक।।

तेरी कोमलता, तेरा लाज करना, तेरा शर्माना,ना बनने दे इसको अपनी कमजोरी।

उस महायुद्ध में तेरी हाय ने किसी को ना छोड़ी।।

नहीं है कोई भी ऐसा क्षेत्र जहां तू ना कर सके फतेह।

उन दुष्टो के कारण तू क्यों छोड़ेगी अपना देह।।

किसने कहा तेरी दुनिया सीमित है बस बाल बच्चे और घर में।

तू चाहे तो सारी सृष्टि को कर दे अपने कदमों में।।

इस सृष्टि का यह नियम, जो खुद को संभाल ना पाए दुनिया उसे दबाए।

बता दे सबको, है तुझमें इतना साहस जो तू सब से सवाल कर पाए।।

बिना सवाल जवाब कैसे पाएगी, चलेगी नहीं तो आगे कैसे बढ़ पाएगी।

उठ, कदम बड़ा, आगे बढ़, विश्वास रख तू सारी चुनौतियों का सामना कर पाएगी, सवाल करेगी तभी तो जवाब भी पाएगी।।

अपने मन पर खींचे इस अंधकार रूपी लक्ष्मण रेखा को मिटा।

कुछ कर ऐसा और अपना शौर्य सारी दुनिया को दिखा।।

गलत साबित कर उन्हें, जो कहते तू लाचार है, तूने सही ना जाने कितनों की मार है।

उठ इस सहनशक्ति को अपनी ताकत बना, बता दे सबको, जो समय का रुख बदले ऐसा तेरा वार है।।

चुप मत रह कुछ बोल, बोलेगी नहीं तो अपनी आवाज उन तक कैसे पहुंचा पाएगी।

अपने विचार नहीं रखेगी तो उनकी सोच कैसे बदल पाएगी।।

गलत करने वाले से अधिक चुप रहकर सहने वाला अपराधी है।

मत भूल नारी का दूसरा नाम ही आंधी है,

उठ अब तेरी बारी है, इस समाज में लानी तुझे एक और क्रांति है।।

यूं घुट-घुट कर तो तू एक दिन मर जाएगी।

न्याय के लिए लड़ेगी तभी तो अमर हो पाएगी।।

क्यों राह देखती तू किसी की जो तेरे लिए कदम बढ़ाए।

बता दे सबको, है तुझ में इतनी योग्यता, जो तू स्वयं के लिए लड़ पाए।।

साहस नहीं भेद करता, स्त्री है या पुरुष ना ही वह यह देखता।

कर्मठ बन अपने सपनों के घोड़ों को दौड़ा,

खुद पर विश्वास रख, तू यह सब कर पाएगी, युद्ध में भाग लेगी तभी तो विजय भी प्राप्त कर पाएगी।।

समय आ चुका है, एकजुट होने का, समाज को यह बतलाने का, यदि परिस्थिति परिवर्तित ना हुई, यदि यह सब यूं ही चलता रहा, तो वह दिन दूर नहीं जब तू, यानी नारी केवल एक इतिहास बन कर रह जाएगी।

फिर तू होकर भी कुछ नहीं कर पाएगी।।

केवल इतना याद रख, नारी तू अबला नही, नाही तू लाचार है ।

तू बेचारी नहीं, बस समाज से अलग तेरे विचार है।।

Jai javaan, jai kisaan | Vaishnavi M S

ಜಗತ್ತಿಗೆಲ್ಲಾ ಅನ್ನದಾತರು,

ಅವರೇ ನಮ್ಮ ಹೆಮ್ಮೆಯ ರೈತರು.

ಭಾರತ ಮಾತೆಯ ರಕ್ಷಕರು,

ಅವರೇ ನಮ್ಮ ದೇಶದ ಸೈನಿಕರು.

ಜನರ ಹಸಿವನ್ನು ನೀಗಿಸದೇ ಇರುವುದಿಲ್ಲ,

ತಿನ್ನುವ ಅನ್ನದಲ್ಲಿ ವಿಷವನ್ನು ಬೇರೆಸುವುದಿಲ್ಲ.

ಶತ್ರುಗಳ ಗುಂಡೇಟಿಗೆ ಹೆದರುವುದಿಲ್ಲ,

ದೇಶ ರಕ್ಷಣೆಯನ್ನು ಮರೆಯುವುದಿಲ್ಲ.

ನಮ್ಮ ದೇಶವು ರೈತ ಪ್ರಧಾನ,

ನಮ್ಮ ರೈತರಿಗೊಂದು ನನ್ನಯ ನಮನ.

ದೇಶವನ್ನು ಕಾಯುವರು ಪ್ರತಿದಿನ,

ನಮ್ಮ ಯೋಧರಿಗಿಲ್ಲ ಯಾರು ಸಮಾನ.

ಮಳೆಯಿಲ್ಲ, ಬೆಳೆಯಿಲ್ಲ ಕಿಂಚಿತ್ತು ಫಲವಿಲ್ಲ,

ಆದರೂ ತಮ್ಮ ಶ್ರಮವ ಬಿಡಲಿಲ್ಲ.

ವೈರಿಗಳ ಗುಂಡೇಟಿಗೆ ಎದೆಯು ಸೀಳಿತಲ್ಲ,

ಆದರೂ ವೈರಿಗಳ ಕೊಲ್ಲದೆ ಬಿಡಲಿಲ್ಲ.

ಪ್ರತಿಯೊಂದು ಅನ್ನದ ಆಗುಳಿನಲ್ಲಿಯೂ,

ಅಡಗಿರುವುದು ರೈತರ ಶ್ರಮ.

ಪ್ರತಿಯೊಬ್ಬ ಸೈನಿಕನ ಕಣಕಣದಲ್ಲೂ,

ಅಡಗಿರುವುದು ದೇಶ ಪ್ರೇಮ.

ಬೆಳೆಗಳನ್ನು ಬೆಳೆದನು,

ಭೂಮಿಯನ್ನು ಹಸಿರಾಗಿಸಿದನು.

ಹಿಮಗಳ ಮಧ್ಯ ನುಸುಳಿ ವೈರಿಗಳ ಕೊಂದನು,

ಭಾರತ ಮಾತೆಯ ಹೆಮ್ಮೆಯ ಪುತ್ರನು.

ಕೈ ಕೆಸರಾದರೆ ಬಾಯಿ ಮೊಸರು,

ಎನ್ನುತ ಹೊಲದಲ್ಲಿ ದುಡಿಯುವರು.

ಎಂದೆಂದಿಗೂ ದೇಶ ಸೇವೆಗೆ ಸಿದ್ಧ,

ವೈರಿಗಳ ವಿರುದ್ಧ ಮಾಡುವರು ಯುದ್ಧ.

ಕಷ್ಟಗಳನ್ನೆಲ್ಲಾ ನುಂಗುವರು,

ಲೋಕಕೆ ಅನ್ನವನ್ನು ನೀಡುವರು.

ನಮ್ಮಯ ಸೈನಿಕ ನಮ್ಮಯ ರಕ್ಷಕ,

ಭಾರತ ಮಾತೆಯ ಹೆಮ್ಮೆಯ ಸೇವಕ.

Eyes | Dr Tanulina Sarkar

These hours, these days,

Spent in an idle haze,

Eyes wide open,

But see nothing with their distant gaze.

Oh, but these eyes!

How dearly they wish to cry,

But lest they be frowned upon,

Only let out a silent sigh.

Just yesterday, it seems,

They had seen a million dreams,

Of a future filled with passion and joy,

Of soaring high up, amidst the sunbeams.

But in an instant, these rays now lost,

Plunged into darkness, so deep so vast,

It seems like a bottomless pit,

Into which these eyes are cast.

All day and all night long,

The leaves sing a woeful song,

Rustling and waving to the tune,

Bidding the eyes to sing along.

But these forlorn eyes, they dare not speak,

For the immense darkness has made them weak,

Wishing for someone to share their agony,

Alas! They know not where to seek.

Blind and hapless the eyes live on,

Nowhere to find the spark that once shone,

Only to be caressed by the ethereal beam,

Then can rest as the lids become one.

The Epiphany of Love | Pratyusha Neog

" Do you believe in love? " She asked.

With curiosity glimmering in her eyes

Waiting impatiently for my answer.

I said " Why yes of course I do otherwise I wouldn't be saying that I love you . "

Her eyes hinting a sense of dissatisfaction like this wasn't the answer she wanted to hear.

" No do you believe in love?

Love as an emotion, love as an expression, love as a declaration, love as power, love as a sense of freedom, love as vain, love as a conquerer. "

I looked at her in awe, wondering how deeply she felt, admiring her thoughts, the beauty of her mind.

" Do you believe in it? " She asked again, eagerly waiting for my answer, a sense of desperation in her voice and a pang of hurt flashing in her eyes, hoping for an answer I cannot give her.

I firmly say " No, no I don't "

The first tear drops, she looks away.

I grace her hand, but she pushes it away,

she pushes me away.

Before I get a chance to tell her why,

she walks away with ache in her heart and tears in her eyes.

She looks back one last time and says

" If you don't believe in it, how can you ever mean it when you say that you love me? "

I hesitate to speak my mind,

but by the time I am ready, she has already walked out the door and out of my life.

So I confess, to the old and empty room I am in, with no one to hear me, just the four walls I am guarded by.

" Oh I believed in love once, all of it, I felt truly fierce and powerful, yet gentle and kind. I was caressed and kindled, I was reminded time and time again for its significance. "

" I saw love everywhere I went, the leaves dancing as the winds whistled, the ink of a pen making love to paper, the faint sound of laughter that came from that little girl when she first learnt how to ride a bike, how the mere smell of coffee in the morning lightened up the faces of so many, the joy in his face when he finally found the song he was searching for days, the way that rusty scent of an old novel safely tucked away in the back of some shelf rejuvenated times I had almost forgotten about. The way my eyes lit up everytime I saw my father plant a kiss on my mother's lips. The way he looked at her, the tales of the past, the present and the future that he told, ' Your mother and I? I met her at the old vinyl shop it was love at first sight and I plan to keep her here with me forever.' "

" Oh how I wished to have found a love that strong. But as I grew older I saw it all. The truth. The dark truth that love blinds you from. He only loved her on the good days, the others he spent drinking away. He then takes his first hit, buying her flowers the next day, calling it love and an outburst of anger, promising her it will never happen again. It only happens more until love turns to anger, to pain and to hurt. I watch it all enfold in front of me. Making a vow to myself ' I will never be my father' "

" Years later when I saw her, I called her ' the love of my life ', showering her with all affection left in me, I gave her the world I thought. But the world too comes to an end, so when I ran out of love to give, I gave away all the hate, an emotion you can never run out of. I poured all of my misery on to her. The next thing I know I find her bleeding in my arms, realising I had become what I had feared the most, my father. But that day I also realised something else, love is an illusion, it is a veil that only keeps the monster in you caged. But when the hunger strikes the monster eventually breaks free, revealing all your wounds and flaws, your raw and naked self. The unlovable side of you. So no, I do not believe in love and all it's glory because it is not true and never will be. "

ফিরে যাওয়ার পালা | Arpita Chowdhury

এক দিন শীতের দুপুরে,

সোনালী আলোর ছায়া তে,

বারান্দাতে বসেছিলাম

দুই হাত বাড়িয়ে।

সবুজ আলোর পরে,

হালকা হওয়ার সাথে,

উড়েছে আমার ঘুম,

জানিনে সে কোন খেয়ালে।

চে থাকি চোখ মেলে, চা তা যে ঠান্ডা হয়ে যাচ্ছে,

বুঝিনি যে আমি সেটা ওই প্রহরে।

যেতে চাই অনেক দূরে,

ভাবিনি কোথায়,

বিকেল যে পরে আসছে,

এবার যে ফিরে যাওয়ার পালা।

রেলের আওয়াজ যেন মন যায় কাঁপিয়ে,

অফিস থেকে আসছে সব্বাই,

ট্রাফিকের যন্ত্রনা কাটিয়ে।

জানিনে কবে ফিরব আমি,

সিঁড়ি থেকে এক-দু পা নেবে,

চা তা যে জল হয়েগেল,

মাটি হলো সব ভাবনা।

গল্প হলেও সত্যি হবে,

বিশ্বাস যে আমার আছে,

কালো আকাশে তারা এসেছে,

রোদ্দুর আসবে আবার ঘুরে।

আজকের মতন এখানেই থাক,

এবার যে ফিরে যাওয়ার পালা।।

Jaadu jo khud tujme hai | Kajal Singh

Meri mano to tum bhi maan lo,

Jo maine aaj hai maan lia.

Ki Jaadu jesi koii cheez nahi,

Or jo hai toh ,,Tum me bhi h.

Maan lo aaj, ki jo kaam krne se

Tum ab tak katraate aae ho,

Ho na ho ,, wo tumhe hi hai krna

Tumse behtar kisi se na hona.

Himmat haar jo tum baithe ho ek paar

Yaad dilaa du ,manjil ab jyada door nai

To uth fir or daud lga ,, bharosha rakh

Naav utha or manjhdhaar ban..

Maan le ab, jo maine hai maan lia,

Kuch kaam tujse hi hai hone ,

Rakh himmat , koshish kar aur mehnat kar

Door nai hai ab manjil jara kadam to bdha

Faasle door ho skte hai , par

Mann hi mann me use chahne ki

Lalak jo hai ,,use mat mitaa..

Darr mat ,, use bdh jane de ....

Aaega wo din bhi jab kaamyabi tere kadam chumegi

Tb kismat bhi saath hogi or tarraki bhi

Bs bhool mt jana ki ye mehnat se mila hai

Ye us jaadu se mila h jo khud tere andar hai

Bs phir maan lena jo

maine h aj maan lia

Ki jaadu jesi koii cheez nai

Joh hai to wo tere andar bhi h

Tere andar bhi h …

(Real magic is inside you )

Nostalgic Butterflies | Tanisha Saravana Kumar

Nostalgia flutters

like a Butterfly with glass wings

It shines,it twinkles

like thousand golden yellow fairy lights

but suddenly it shatters

into a million sharp glass pieces of regret

stabbed the heart

and memories bled to death

Footprints of memories

washed away with tides of regret

slowly forgotten

like a withering rose

holding on to the fading faint fragrance of reminiscence

Beautiful albums of memories

whitened with silver fish of regret

Dying screeching echoes of beautiful recollections

no longer resonate rememberance

Shadows of regret

haunting the dreams of the past

Let them go

for we have all made mistakes...

Your heart defines bravery | Ananya Bansiwal

The weather turns colder, and the days grow shorter, but the questions inside my head, and the list of things I wish I had said grows longer!

I have something to say to this world, that I couldn't since these many years, now it is itching to get out of me, and I can hold no longer.

I think this is the hardest part of all, that we have an undeniable will to love people whom we grow around, and in the return, they have an unrealized behavior of wrecking and pulling us down.

And there comes the pain, that like no-one else feels like a very close part of me.

I've been betrayed as a child. The images blur, but I still feel that clear.

I never had been the one to rage against them.

"What if they're just about to understand!"

All the times I've been screaming in silence, whenever you're in my head, questioning my existence.

How abruptly, we've grown into people we thought we'd never be.

It's no wonder how life sets a contrast to us, how in these moments, I've made myself look like a stranger.

Tired of apologizing for things that break me.

And to all the horrors of this life, the only thing haunted here;; is my heart.

My hands tremble when I hold love.

A part of me dies each time I see myself with people for whom I'll never be enough.

I've been searching for something I can't reach.

For the longest time, you felt like hope and scarlet skies.

I thought you were the sunlight slicing my dark, when all you did was sketching everything dark.

I'm still tracing the scars and secrets I've buried five fires ago.

I do not know if it matters to you as much as it does to me.

If my head could be a little less noisy, if I knew how to scream, And I wasn't all alone, when it's too crowded and stuffed in there.

I tried to fix this, but maybe in a parallel universe I don't have to!

In another life, I will change the course of fate.

If, what I'm living meant anything more than being locked inside a place forever, maybe not forever, but for as long as I breathe. Do you not think, that we're pieces or boxes,

trapped and closed moving inside our spaces, losing sense, Is that what life had planned?

I tried to think, but I couldn't!

If I were drunk right now, I'd say I'm too low to be high anymore.

It's filled, but it's vacant.

What is grief on a shot of truth, my heart on ice!

Swallow the emptiness you feel and bleed, what else would you do with it.

I'm glad, that I could keep up, bruised, broken, and yet smiling.

But now, whenever I look at the mirror, we don't ask each other how we've been, I would lie to the mirror and the mirror would lie to me.

This heart of mine, no longer wrenches in misery.

There's a different tune now, that I'm lately learning.

If I feel something, it is that none of us can escape being a human anymore. I don't have anything to grab or withhold back.

It's just me, and my space, that fills with stillness, and all that I can really hold on to, is myself.

You know what's the good part about people, they say they don't want to see you hurt, and apparently: apparently they do everything // everything to keep you from believing that they're good, They treasure you in the deepest and purest form //

You trust them even when you can't trust the mirror,

Even if you have to choose between them and yourself, it would never be you.

They teach you to not be locked inside your own head, like old locked drawers //

In no sense of time, they feel like hope; for that very moment, you exit your wounds,

You go million moons apart doing things for them, they teach you poems about self-love // so that when they leave, and act selfish, you owe them a promise you couldn't keep.

That's the beautiful part about humans // There's no way out to shutting people.

For the rest of our lives, we just think,

"What if we've not been there, so where would we be"?

But my friend, you deserve to let go of the heaviness in your chest, knowing your heart defines bravery.

Her thoughts | Shweta Mahani

The engine of her thoughts began...

Poured them in poetry

and gave a glimpse

of her lovestory

In her thoughts

She was left alone

with making memories

that were too deep to stop

They kept sliding in her head

Like pebble into the pond

In her thoughts

She wish the freedom

to lay her soul

bare before him

They both come to life

in the stillness of an hour

In her thoughts

She desire to walk

for thousand miles

At the seawall of fortune's rock

where the sea licks

pink and silver sand

In her thoughts

She wish to lay together

Besides the waves of sea

on the soft rose sand

Wish to dance together

under the silvery lights

The most romantic place

In the cosmos of life

The real wealth,

enough for her

will remain throughout her life !!

She is like water | Dipti Shinde Salvi

She becomes what she is poured into

She wears the colour we mix it with

She becomes river when we allow her to flow

And she nourishes all embracing her

When flowing, she is transparent like crystal

The transparency showing colourful stones and soil lying at the bottom

Upon touching, she calms us

Upon diving deep into it, she excites and pacifies us equally and simultaneously

But she becomes puddle, if we hinder her flow

And she accumulates waste serving us nothing

Flowing is what she is

Giggling is vivacious to her

Dancing is what she loves

Nourishing is what she enjoys

And coexistence of excitement and peace is what she is

She is life, our very own existence...

Thunder were my thoughts | Sayantani Banerjee

The thunder rumbled, and scared you

Think if I told you the truth,

that it is what my inner thundering thoughts

Then it might have made you sad, which would in order break my heart.

Think if I told you the rain yesterday were my tears,

The tears of halt for another moment of life,

Until the moment we meet again.

It would have ceased on me, your eyes.

Think if I said that I didn't want you to leave,

That I didn't want the moment to end,

That the first rain with you was of resentment,

And not of joy.

I felt my half splitting off,

I felt the urge I felt before,

The urge of wanting to see you from near,

And now it's even more, for now I have truly loved you henceforth.

The wait will end soon in time,

But the longing in my heart will seem a decemvir

We will meet soon for sure,

But how will my heart store the absence of thy.

Think if you really could read my eyes,

Think if you really had the power to read mine,

Then long before you would have known,

That love for me arrived when I meet you anigh.

जननी | Vivek Gulati

जीवन मिला तुझसे, जीना सिखाया तूने

राह से जब भी भटके, लक्ष्य दिखाया तूने।

प्यार का सागर थी तू, भर भर लुटाया तूने

तेरी कमी हर समय आज भी खलती है

अंधकार में तेरे आशीर्वाद की लौ जलती है।

भगवान तो कभी दिखे नहीं हमें

तुझमें उसका स्वरूप दिखा हमें।

Sawdust | Apoorva A N Manohar

smear-laden in lifeless mud

slinging herself over the last bit of a ruthless saw

trrrrrrrm trrrrrrrrrrrm brrrrrrrm...clack

the machine, it screams so loud..

she flinches ahead as it cuts through

her gentle green eyes turn a dull grey

the long tresses caress her face

as she takes the fall

my heart sinks.

if you followed the twisting vines nigh the wound

you would see

the vines that came crashing through

meet the earth in its roots

it is where

she now plonks in blood now

..and in splattered mud

it is where life must happen in green I muse out loud

raising a brow she heaves a sigh

her gentle eyes concede silently

it won't be long, her parting glance says it..

standing aghast- clenching herself

thud!

a deathly silence deafens me

and a numb stupor rises and engulfs the sky

a dull fainting thump– thwack– it strikes again

the machine, it still screams so loud

trrrrrrrm… trrrrrrrrrrrm brrrrrrrm..rrrrrrrrrrrrrr….clack....

there’ are bits splattering on the earth

yet it roars on

the machine....

trrrrrrrm trrrrrrrrrrrm brrrrrrrm...clack

maybe it has reached the last root on earth

….a loud scream echoes, the machine falls mute

at last

the scream lingers still

hanging in air, heavy as lead

even as I see a lifeless void steep up into my heart

Five Reasons Why I Fear Learning To Carry A 'Bottle' Within Me | Suvedhaa R S

I don't know how to bottle it all up

To be honest, I dread it

Because, think about it,

What if I bottle up a lot, to a point where the bottle explodes

And its pieces pierce and tear all my organs, making them bleed, until everything that is red becomes purple and

Letting everyone see what they aren't supposed to see?

Or what if the more I put in the bottle, the more it continues to grow and expand,

In all dimensions,

Until the day it squishes my lungs, to an extent where it becomes suffocating that I die and no one would ever know the truth behind my death?

Or even worse, what if every single thing I put in the bottle vanishes because the bottle eats up everything?

If that's the case, then there wouldn't be any breaking point, where my brain tells me to stop

So, at some point, sooner or later, I will die

I will die without knowing anything about myself

The moment I finish contemplating these what-ifs,

I come to realize that my hands have already spilled everything, everywhere,

Out of fear,

Out of shiver

And I end up feeling like an 'idiot' because,

"Adults Aren't Supposed To Act This Way!"

And I am, supposedly, an 'ADULT'

An 'Adult'

Or an 'idiot', forever feeling anger burning inside her head

While also being aware of how this anger is- slowly but steadily- feeding on her brain.

She couldn't do anything to stop it,

Or her, from becoming a brainless idiot with no home to sleep in.