A.V

In early Winter's gentle embrace, Contrasts of red, orange, and green grace. Oak, birch, and grass, a vibrant array, As temperature falls, clothes gain sway. Upon a wooden bench 'neath maple's hue, Leaves fall like feathers, crackling anew. Every shift, even slight, heard clear, Beside my love, snug in fluffy gear. In each other's arms, we find reprieve, Head on shoulder, close as we breathe. Breezes whisper secrets, drawing near, Tender, no itch to fear. Hands warmed perfectly, shoes don't ache, Scent of shampoo, a sweet, gentle wake. Birds chirp amidst our tender hold, In this peace, our slumber unfolds. In the quiet calm, we drift away, Lost in love's embrace, 'neath Winter's sway. A.V

My teacher once told me "Things that can be measured can be improved, I guess that's why the athletes never miss even a millimetre or a millisecond". From there on I searched and searched just to stumble upon Apps that fulfil my needs. The one I used to count up my study sessions is ' FocusMeter ', and for habits ' TheFor '. Notion and  Keep Notes aided me in fixing the study goals of the week and the day. There came times when I would just laze around and would watch anime, shows, and movies. Read books and novels. Just as with others, I made my goals and sometimes even failed to complete them. but it was a fun year, learned a lot, saw a lot, and lived a lot. This is me Studying. 7 Months of Study Sessions tracked, with full Transparency  Full Analytics  I think I might just make this a yearly thing, posting the Anelytics and me. Never was really able to divide attention and time for other subjects properly, I guess that done over and over creates this ...

Surrounded by many unfamiliar faces, Yet  recognized faces Shine from the crowd like stars at dusk.  These summer evenings roam with sloth.  In this exam hall We share a silence of boredom.  Hope of a good future Held via a thin thread of luck and dedication.  All eyes wander around But never to meet another for long.  Some heads are down and some fidgeting.  Creaking fans blow warm air, While  all the souls try to find comfort In these unsettling seats. Somehow this feels homely.  Reminds me of the lazy summer school days.  It's last lesson and Madhu ma'am Sees the whole class sleeping.  She would sit and then sarcastically wake us up.  And we all would wake up sluggishly Like a blooming flower.  We never were able to listen to her Stories or lessons as a class.  Some child was always absent,  Some child was always sleeping,  Some child was always making trouble. Yet it felt homely.  A.V.

7 PM, the night is rising, Coaching class has ended, yet The treatment and causes of cancer, Still roam around in mind. Tiredness found this place. The sizzling delicacies, The rich aroma, The warm cloud of air, The hectic state, All entered senses with the first step. Looked around with control of eyes, Trying to spot an empty seat. (Picked up the menu) After a second, "Bhaiya! Ek Butter masala dosa laga do" Hunger had taken control, And the overpowering smell, Only made matters worse. The cold smell of gritty textured coconut chutney, And the warm, yet little sweet with curry leaf sambar. A heavy bag was beside me. Reminding the bitter taste, of The stress and responsibilities. Yet, the hectic and busy place provided comfort. As if it were to say "Eat up, don't think for now". The wait felt calm. I allowed my eyes to wander off. The table was not well-cleaned, The tissue papers were not stocked, The paint was chipping off. Shoes, clothes, hair, acc...

Sweaty mornings greet with warm water's flow, Relief in cold sought 'neath the sun's fierce glow. Slothy afternoons bloom with budding flowers fair, Blowing wind whispers, through clouds white as air. Long days stretch on into sleepless nights' embrace, Shade offers respite 'midst the burning trees' grace. Light cloths replace heavy blankets in the heat's sway, Morning birds' melodies, night's insects' display It's summer again, the one I have a love-hate relation with. A.V

All the topics to talk upon have extinguished, besides an old friend. Where none is interested in listening to the tale, the other wants to speak. Closed eyes hear gentle sparkle of the waterfall. The muffler sure is fluttering a lot, and  this icy breeze is spine-chilling. Should've brought a coat. Shoes are a little tight, hair's a little frizzy, maybe I should've done shampoo today. I wonder if this silence is ackword for him. Well, not like it bothers it to someone like me who enjoys this peace. Yawn (after seeing his friend yawn) (Sarts to look in the distance again) (Crosses the legs). A.V

  Senders Address: Sadbhavna Vihar Phase 2, Rotela Bhavan, Pilikhoti Road, Haldwani, Nainital, Uttarakhand. Date: 12th January 2024 Dear, Sir May I warn you some people might puncture your car tier after practicals. Just wanted you to know that it was good to know you. Your political talks were never understood by me, nor were your lessons properly 😅. But I am working on everything. I remember once you said ‘everything that is measured can be improved’ I hate to admit it but it is true. I track my study hours and to-do list, and they have helped. Aiming for 160+ hours this month. Started from 90 hours in October. ありがとう (Arigato).  You really do have your own ways of things. It's good, you're a good mentor. This will be my last time contacting you. As Farewell creeps in, and exams peep from around the corner, it will be hard to see everyone together. So, goodbye sir. May you find peace in all you do. Vinay Rana A.V Sadbhavna Vihar Phase 2, Rotela Bhavan, Pilikothi Road, Haldwa...

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...