A.V

It's Farewell Today. How fast does time elapses. Prepared and accompanied by Yuvraj and Ashish, we arrived at the school gate. Nature seemed to favor the occasion, with the sun gently casting its warm glow. As we approached the entrance, my heart quickened, and my hands trembled. Ashish joined his group, and we stepped through the gates, greeted by a small assembly of teachers. Soon, Manan and the others joined us. Amidst the crowd, I spotted a familiar face – Shipra ma'am, our class 5th teacher. Given her imminent departure, we hastily snapped pictures and exchanged our final goodbyes. Unfortunately, Samriddhi ma'am was on leave, as cold caught on to her. Moving further inside with a good luck card and a flower in hand, the girls congregated on one side, boys on the other. Before us stood a grand stage adorned with "Buona Fortuna" and ladybugs against the backdrop. At 2:30 PM, the announcements commenced, and the atmosphere buzzed with familiar faces, handshakes,...

What can I say, at this hour? I see a drive full of letters to be sent. I see a diary full of memories.  A pillow that has seen all my breakdowns. What can I say? When practicals are at head. Can't even fully enjoy the Farewell. All that comes to mind is study. What can I say? Light is dim, and I Cuddling with the quilt. As mellow sad songs buzz the roam. What can I say?  The nostalgia is getting to me. The memories are on replay. And I write this. A.V

The clock is ticking, bells are ringing, Notifications buzzing, cheers are singing. Yet the cold remains, it's numb, Snowing with laughter, but the heart stays calm. The peaceful warmth of coffee snug, Doesn't seek large gatherings, just a mellow hug. Beside the fireplace on a cozy night, Cuddling with a quilt, telling tales so bright. A new year's here, won't shout and cheer, Feels shallow, repeating every year. Time plays its games, the same old rhyme, May you find peace in every chime. The burning Cherrywood smells so fine, With ink's fragrance, a sparkly sign. Creeping wishes like a typewriter's sound, In the quietude, joy is found. So here's to days with stories told, In the warmth of love, not just the cold. May your year be filled with rhyme, A harmonious tune, a joyful time. A.V

“I At 14 Girl At Back Alley Looted Of Dignity Snailed Up Naked On Wet Floor Screaming HELP Calling Courage, To END Disgust I Feel World Had MERRY New Year All His Hands Touched Screams DISGUST Holding Glass  I Write This With bood On Body With Black Fingerprints Of Devil O LORD FREE MEE can't stand the icy body can't stand to call help feels hard to see feels ransacked my soul is killed please...let me free… let me free…” On 1st January, a body was found covered with dried blood. With a sharp glass shard in her open throat. And a poem written over her thighs. Last night she was a warm beautiful innocent girl, and this morning all I see is a lifeless cold piece of flesh. A.V

Their are times when sleep is lost. Their are times when air is all around, But you feel like drowning. Their are times when you can't stop aching. Their are times when you silence your cries. Their are times when even, the saddest midnight ragh is not enough. Their are times when you feel like, Choking yourself to death. Their are times when you feel like running away. Their are times. But their are times too Where you feel, Like you will die from Joy. Their are times when the Peace feels eternal. Their are times when the sun feels nice. Their are times when the rain feels rejuvenating. Their are times when the sleep feels refreshing. Their are times when the air feels sparkling. Their are times when Autumn also feels beautiful. A.V

"The songs have already started, when are you two going to get ready!" Mother shouted from her bedroom. It was the Navratreers, the Garba dance took place at the humongous lawn of the banquet hall a few roads ahead. "Just a second!" shouted Gulika, my little sister.  While we get ready let me give a little introduction about us. Gulika and I had annoyed a lot of shopkeepers, just to get our desired clothes and fittings. For me, a full sleeve, a black blouse with a golden lining, a beautiful matching lehenga, and a light-coloured dupatta. Gulika had chosen a blue backless blouse, with a light pink lehenga, printed with roses all around. With contrasting clothes, she had trouble choosing the right dupatta but ended up with a light-colored one with light blue patterns. We both wore matching sandal and stole the jewelry from Mother's closet, don't tell her, please.  Just as Mother was going to call for us once again, we rushed from the room to the h...

If death was a thing of shops, I would be first in line. If regrets could be weighed, mine would be equal to Earth. If tears were a measure of pain, even the seven seas wouldn't be enough. I could feel a sword piercing my heart, and my breath evaporating. My soul repelled the fireflies, the moon refused to face me. My name shone the brightest, in the devil's list. The worth-less feeling attracts taunts as a black hole. A monster, unworthy of love. Life pierces the, soul as broken glass. Time refuses my, needs and desires. I see blood on my hands and, nightmares with naked eyes.  The sunlight burns my skin, like giving punishment for sins. A.V

I was in the “Ministry of Chai” a cozy cafe around 6 to 7 PM.  I parked the scooty and stepped inside. Ordered an Adkrak Chai and sat down beside an empty round table. Engrossed by my own thoughts, I started reading Mritunjay, facing all the other customers. A couple of pages flew past the eyes, as the chai reached my table. Songs dissolved in the air. As I cool the chai, I see an adult couple mingling. A family in the distance, and a group of deaf people in front. I sipped the chai, and the warmth brought with it the realization of cold. With it came the realization of how silent the conversation of deaf people really is.  From the corner of my eye, I saw how the facial expressions changed. I observed how they interacted. Trying to understand their signs was like trying to catch a moving metro. Even though I had learned the basics of ISL from Youtube, it was still hard to understand what they were conversing about. The body language and the expression were the only things tha...

Who is that person? That everyone calls as father. Who is he, that visits? every couple of months. What is a father? are genes all that we inherit. What about morals, ethics? its fathers who teach them right? The childhood is forgotten. the time of awakening, is spent in solitude,  under an eye of Mother. It's said, a chariot needs 2 wheels to run. Then how do I grow up? Responsible, punctual, and merry, or greedy, carefree, and undisciplined? Silence, is what clogs the air, at his visit.  "How are studies?" is all we talk. And my grades speak on my behalf. Now I ask, what is a father? I don't know the feeling of a father. There is respect, but affection is absent. There is a father, but unknown to me. A.V

Sometimes, the eternal rays of aura would impregnate the atmosphere with bliss. Peregrinating would feel tranquil. vellichor would extract saudade from depths. halycon would overwhelm  sirimiri would feel selcouth.  And Now The tranquility, the bliss, all have become spurious.  Never knew all my feeling were a thing of halcyon. But now,  not a feeling sparks inside what do you call this, Anhedonia right? It is lagom to kill the soul denouement remains one,  I would stand in the sight of death, mamihlapinatapai. A sad natsukashi remains.  A.V

 What should a traveler love? Who should a traveler love? Adventure? Or Solitude? What would a traveler like? Who would a traveler like? The sweet fruits? The bitterness of life? Why travel?  Why be a gypsy? Out of need? Or out of circumstances? What should a traveler love? Who should a traveler love? A person? Or A personification? Is it Courtship? Is it romance? Is it solitude? That the traveler seeks? Is it experience? Is it perspective? Is it knowledge? What does the traveler seek?   Is it a mountain? A land? Or is it life? What does the traveler travel? Is it life, is it self You seek.? Is it life, you travel Dear traveler? Are you a hopeless romantic? Then why do your eyes seek love? Is it the love of Krishna you seek? Is it the melody of flute you search? A.V

A little blurry vision. A way to escape reality A perspective of eagle A holistic way to see A love of a child A innocent soul A cuddle of empathy A result of consequences  Your sweet memories Your brown hairs with whites A dimple of one side Your voice A little imperfect But perfectly, imperfect The beauty of chaos Has engulfed even the observers Love and hate Life and death Health and disease Angel and devil The boundaries are soft The meaning are unclear The perspective  Is all their is. In the Chaos In the mess In the imperfections Their lies Morals and ethics Which change all the time No solid line is their to Reach perfection I laugh at the idea of perfection A.V 

I tried speaking. I tried reaching for help. I tried, I tried…. But. fed up with life is I itself. They shut me down. They refused to see. They ignored and. killed my heart in agony. Now I see myself, standing On the edge. Glowing  Like fireflies is the city. The breezes are smothering the ambers of life in me. I guess, I will move forward. I guess, my life will flash as I fall. I guess, my heart will burst with fear. I guess, I will still move forward. Life was hell for me. No interest sparked in mind. Days passed by staring The white wall of Psychiatric ward. I closed my eyes. Surrendered to death The next moment, I was falling in the sky, The sweet memories, Where were you hiding? Making me regret that. Lifes not that bad. But I had taken the step, I had surrendered. I guess this is how I die now. With tears in my eyes. A.V

In a classroom of thirty students,  I see the whole life in metaphors. In the lifeless paper, I see live butterflies bound to the windows, ever  flying in time.  They entangle and detangle with each other as old friends, and old souls. You see just origami, I see a whole life's metaphors.   Someday, I would see only the threads,  and the butterflies missing.  Like suddenly some lives left Earth,  Just so easily, just so suddenly. They see the sunshine, they experience the rain, they know the winters, they know the summers.  They know the happiness, they know the sorrows, They know the grief, they know the cries.  Dancing in the seasons, and slowly weathering.  I would see them endlessly, as the lessons were taught.  A.V

The aroma of flower buds, makes the endearing breeze alluring. Evening prayers move with the birds, to the corners of the sky. It is an evening of early spring. I see the Courtship of the sun and the moon, as they stare at each other from west to east, as the sun sets and the moon's ethereal rays strengthen.  My hands hold the book mritunjay.  I unfold the yugen, as it diaphanously  takes over my senses. In the background, there are songs of birds and insects.  A brown shawl is draped around my shoulders. It hugs me with warmth, and as the  cool wind eloquently teases me. My shoulders move closer  and my demure body fills with comfort.  On the roof, over a ladder, I read.  A.V