Archive for August, 2012


The bond of trust weakens

with every breath I take

the wait is too long

the want is too much.

 

To have taken that leap again

only to scratch the other side

falling again in the dark pit

misery in pursuit once more.

 

I cling on to every step

the ladder of hope falls away

her face growing distant each second

the darkness growing once again.

 

Is it bad luck or just me

am I even destined to be happy

if not then let me know

what destiny has in store for me.

 

Am I to be satiated once more

not by love, only lust

end the pretence just now

let there be no more lies.

 

I wish to fall if I’m meant to

freely, without the fear of hurt

to be free from the realm of love

to be only in the arms of lust…

Kinshuk  Kashyup
Sir Padampat Singhania University, Udaipur
kinshukkashyup@gmail.com
https://www.facebook.com/kinshukkashyup

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Given up ALREADY??

Posted: August 31, 2012 by CampusWriting in Writes...
Tags: , , , , ,

You may own an expensive camera but not be a photographer or have a personal library of your own for that matter but that doesn’t make you an avid reader. Tell me who wrote homer to write or Van Gogh to paint. The answer dwells right in your first effort at anything you proudly taught yourself.

Your interests and your will to learn is your only power. No one can teach you the practicalities of the subject. You can memorize every written word or write an elaborate thesis as far as the technicality is concerned but it’s only in the battleground midst the roaring war cries that will awaken the warrior inside you.

You will never learn anything in the confines of your mental narrowness. You want to draw? find your scape, you want to write? look out for inspiration. It might just be lurking around the corner or perhaps a great story disguised as a fellow passenger.

If you tell me it’s too late for changing your line or bringing those dreams to being. I am guessing that you might either be on your death-bed or a cowardice for have given up so early .The truth is

‘It’s never too late to believe the unbelievable and snatch that possible out of impossible’.

You may slip into a stagnant position regretting the ‘what ifs” in your cubicle at the age of twenty-five or still struggle to learn mandarin at eighty or who knows you become the one who dropped out of college , took creative classes including calligraphy, sleeping on a floor in a friend’s dorm but dreaming about what is now a 108 billion dollar multinational corporation or be a sheer entrepreneurial success who inspired countless dreamers in our own country while his own childhood helplessly passed in supporting his family just after he got through high school.

If you have taken your life for granted and if you think that your tomorrow is promised to you and so are your ten years down the lane then congratulation for locking yourself in a windowless room and gulping down your ‘key to freedom’ but if there is still a slight possibility of an escape then just

Broaden your prospects and not your excuses…

http://www.facebook.com/theneatshotsoflife

Where Am I? …part 2

Posted: August 31, 2012 by CampusWriting in Writes...
Tags: ,

continued from part 1 @ http://campuswriting.com/2012/08/10/where-am-i/

Me(zeeshan) socially is very much active but not well organized. Still, I can trust anybody so flatter easily. I was kind of immature personality, doesnt care about my paddles of life or so-called CAREER PLANS! on the edge of completion of his half engineering, am on cloud9 as I had cleared half of my engineering degree with average percentile even got rusted in internals. alright. now, I am free state of mind also the schedules as post-exam vacation is on ride. One day, aabhass Called him for his brother marraige! by the way! aabhass is one of his chaddi buddy and His all time bestie. 

Place : aabhass bro engagement

Gelled hair. over-smelled perfume shower. A Portfolio-type attire especially for the occasion. zeeshan and aabhass met. hugged. talk. laugh.

me(talking to him self after having 360 view of place) : “God! Ultimate hotties!! And I am Still single”.

then, Done with all formalties of indian traditional marraige(greet to bhaiyya-bhabhi, Uncle-aunty,101 rs. ritual, DJ pe dance! All Done!)

me Tired by all. tummy activities land we both in the world of delicious dishes where all in anxiety. I back with this hustling as my plates full. Ohh Sh*t! my plate drain hitting someone. Someone! better call a cute lavish face. is it Love At First Sight with such bad impression. I shifted my gaze to my heroic attire. it wasted with Daal and paneer all over. 

that someone : hell! why u on rush. stupid! you drained my dress..
me : o! Madam! same with me! dont shout on me!
Someone with Same Blaze : you people are not supposed to be allowed in such places. learn some attiquetes and come.
me : Ohh Shut up! 

while at midst, Aabhass approaches up. solved our fight to destary arguments. and show us washroom to cleaned off. 
“be Cool mayne! She is so pretty and cute! start some chit-chat”

me to that Someone : Sorry! its my mistake!!
she replied : we both in this. i have to stay calm.sorry for argument.
then conversation started.
she is doing BCA from some College. I forget coz I just lost in her. how can god make such a beautiful creatures. should she been was made in Spare-time?i gave introduction about me? my Fucked up at college. all engineering stitches. she giggle.i just smile. 
it was a good and formal conversation. but its gonna end. while in conversation, she made excuse for water and she disappeared. Is She an angel seriously or what? And i Dont have Nothing to contact her again As she dont left her number, any address, nothing.except about her and her name “Zoya”. Beautiful as her name.

Syed Khizar

Poornima Institute of Engineering and Technology


Light, relinquish your hold on me

I do not belong with you

only darkness lingers all around

both inside and outside me.

 

Pain and wrath are the only things I know

I was more subtle once, so long ago

I now live with lies and secrets

deception, domination at it’s best.

 

There is no faith in this world

I lost it all when I bet it on love

I found something else that I didn’t want

rage and hatred is all that’s left.

 

Turn your worst nightmare to reality

I want to see you suffer in pain

let misery be your best companion

I do hope it drives you insane.

 

I’m no longer who I was

there’s contempt that lives in me

spite and cruelty, that’s what I have

despise you for who you chose to be.

 

There is nothing left to do

but to make you feel the same as me

I will make you suffer, be warned

Light, relinquish your hold on me…

 

Kinshuk  Kashyup
Sir Padampat Singhania University, Udaipur
kinshukkashyup@gmail.com
https://www.facebook.com/kinshukkashyup

You Lost!

Posted: August 30, 2012 by CampusWriting in Writes...
Tags:

That Square Shaped Earing!
That Smile Incredibly sheering!
I Heard Your Voice in My Dreams!
That Lip Gloss Glimpse!

I Froze!
You Lost! 😦

Syed Khizar

Poornima Institute of Engineering and Technology

http://on.fb.me/MXQSsH

My LITTLE WARRIOR

Posted: August 30, 2012 by CampusWriting in Writes...
Tags: , , , , , ,

They see me fearless
I stand up alone,
My knees still tremble
I still look for my home.
But my eyes look at them 
Perfectly straight into their eyes,
Yes , I am brave
Because my fear is in disguise.
I walk with passion 
My head held up in the sky,
My head speaks confidence..
My heart speaks ‘a lie’.
I chase the monsters 
I bring them to death,
With each droplet of blood 
I lose my breath.
The fight for right
This question for wrong ,
This search for me
The truth where I belong …
Seems to disappear 
In the hazy mirror of streets,
This brave girl wakes up
every night from her sleep.

Payal Arora

National Institute of Fashion Technology

pylarora05@gmail.com

 

 

 


A happy life with a son and a wife

My story started somewhere in the middle

never anticipated the things to come

to me, my past was just a riddle.

 

I was to pick her up that day

she was waiting for me with a cake

I had some errands, some injuries too

she was reading a book when I got there.

 

Inquisitive, I looked at the cover

a simple, red-back, plain old book

she smiled as if it was nothing

she told me it was my present from her.

 

I never believed in stories as such

fiction to me was a fool’s game

opening the first page, I saw

Fingerling, what a curious name!

 

Reading a little, day by day

associating with the things in the book

as if the story was my reality

as if it was my life’s second look.

 

The book told me it was a number

that got hold of it’s prey

it was psychological, fatal

the photographs in it were a faded gray.

 

The number was but twenty three

I wondered how it could be cruel

it had taken hold of the protoganist

I was intriguied, it was unreal.

 

Fingerling, the guy’s name, weird

was still nudging at me now

he had read it in a book himself

I had the same book, somehow.

 

I grew as the book progressed

my curiosity owning the best of me

absorbing, slowly, in that number

the so-called-damned twenty three.

 

The dreams of death, at late nights

the gush of blood on the bed

the sea of despair, the constant screams

from my reality, I fled.

 

I dunno why I chose that hotel

felt connected to it, somehow

the familiar walls, the familiar feeling

it was rather odd, I wondered how.

 

Proceeding to finish the book

I lost myself in the darkness

the book was now my reality

my soul, thirsty, sleepless.

 

I found the place where Fingerling buried

the remains of his broken heart

I dug and dug in that lonesome night

alone, in that God forsaken graveyard.

 

Dismay was all I could find

I had turned the grave apart

I could only find dust settling slowly

while I hoped to find the broken heart.

 

Saddened and lost, I turned towards home

I reached the door with my son in tow

the wife was afraid, I dunno why

there was dirt on her hands, I wondered how.

 

She seemed afraid and I imagined the worst

that she had been there to move the pieces

the dreams turned more realistic, darker

I did not want to hear her unfaithful speeches.

 

I sought the man who published the book

absurd and astound, still, they accompanied me

confronting him with the book he sold

he stabbed himself, His terror unbound on seeing me.

 

Curiosity is what killed the cat

that’s what they all have said

with events unfolding with such a mystery

I didn’t seem to care if I’d end up dead.

 

Solving the riddle, I grew rampant

she tried to tame this savage beast

uttering the truth that I was mad

she said that it was my past, my reality.

 

I ran away from home, enraged

Fingerling? No, it couldn’t be me!

running back to that same hotel again

staying in that same room Twenty Three.

 

The familiarity of the walls struck me again

I could see the paint peeling off it

ripping apart the paint on the walls

I found chapter 23, the end of all of it.

 

It connected my story from back to front

it was a more than just my memory

my past life, the blank pieces in my head

restored to me, dreary, still a mystery…

Kinshuk  Kashyup
Sir Padampat Singhania University, Udaipur
kinshukkashyup@gmail.com
https://www.facebook.com/kinshukkashyup

Running away is never a solution

Posted: August 30, 2012 by CampusWriting in Daily Quotes
Tags:

The more we run away from things , the more they haunt us… So running away is nevertheless a solution… Be bold and courageous enough to tackle rebuffs of life…

Nabila Khan

Peoples Dental Academy

 

 

 


It is the week of love again

and yet I stand alone

forgetting the dreams and hiding the pain

that I kept having about you.

 

Friends all sit around me, happily

and yet I stay too quiet

for they don’t know, really

the pain of losing you, that’s right!

 

It’s because of you now

that I don’t believe in love

I wish you have listened somehow

wish you had never given me that shove.

 

Even now as I try to forget

those damn feelings about you

you still don’t see them, fuck it!

I wish I hadn’t loved you so true.

 

You make those jokes in front of me

never seeing or believing how I would feel

it was never just you and me

damn Valentine’s week, wish it weren’t real.

 

I was always yours to begin with

you were my inspiration for long

if you had said yes, that would have been it

I wouldn’t be spending this week alone…

Kinshuk  Kashyup
Sir Padampat Singhania University, Udaipur
kinshukkashyup@gmail.com
https://www.facebook.com/kinshukkashyup

Whiskey Lullaby

Posted: August 29, 2012 by CampusWriting in Writes...
Tags: , , , , , , , ,

We watched him drink his pain away,
A little at a time,
But he never could get drunk enough,
To get her off his mind …

Pain or love wasn’t the reason why Prakash was the town drunk. “It’s my passion,” he would quote while listening to the Whiskey Lullaby,” It depicts my freedom.”
*
It was two years ago, in Swindon during his working years, when Prakash was first introduced to liquor. He became a lover ever since. Gin was the drink he chose as his first love, Tequila came second. His decision of never marrying or rather being away from women was well-known by all his chums. He would recite it every time someone asks him to settle down and get married.

A year went by quite peacefully with his “principles”- be drunk, spend all the money, come home after midnight, and never tie the knot. It was a call from the City Hospital, Dehradun which changed his way of living. His mother’s health was withering each day and he had to come back to her. A month’s stay changed into a year’s and at long last, resignation from his job in Swindon. 35-year old Prakash had no one but his mother in Dehradun. His father left the family when he was only eight, to remarry. Prakash became a disbeliever in marriage or love ever since. His childhood friend and neighbour Rajiv, a thin, square-faced bespectacled young man, was the second reason why Prakash would call Dehradun his home. It was Rajiv who took his mother to the Hospital when she had her devastating heart stroke. Prakash went directly to the hospital after landing, only to find that Rajiv had already taken his mother home. He rushed home while his paralyzed mo ther waited for her son on her bed. Rajiv was the one who had to break the news to Prakash that the heart stroke cost his mother’s motility.

*
“Turning 36, are we?” Rajiv asked Prakash who was now sipping the last drops of vodka on his glass.

“Yeah, more drinks?” Prakash made a move to ask the bartender for more.

After spending a year in India, Prakash had now become accustomed to drinking vodka, Rajiv’s favourite.

His drinking habits were costing him a lot in his unemployed days in the country. A “compromise” is what he would call it whenever he had to settle for a beer.

“I hate to break it to you, but I’m getting married this year.”

Prakash dropped his jaw in disbelief as those words came out of Rajiv’s mouth.

“I thought we had a pact?” Prakash brooded while the pub played the Tequila Sunrise.

“I know, but the fact is that life can not be spent all alone, or at least I can’t.” Rajiv explained while the bartender poured more vodka in his glass.

“Losers, all of you.” Prakash kicked his chair and headed out of the pub, shoving the poor bartender out of his way.

*

“Stop being a child Prakash and go and attend your best friend’s wedding.” his mother shouted at Prakash while he prepared the night’s dinner. He turned on the TV aloud while the Pandit chanted the mantras at Rajiv’s wedding.

As obstinate as over, Prakash chose to spend the night with his beloved Tequila rather than attending his neighbor’s marriage ceremony. He did not even know the bride’s name or rather he never cared to ask.

*

Two days later it was a big day for Prakash: his first call of employment in Dehradun after being rejected by two and rejecting one where he had to work offshores. Rajiv was the first one to wish him luck in the morning and offer him a ride for his first day at work. Reluctantly Prakash accepted his offer.

There was already a woman, a beautiful one, sitting on the front seat of the car so Prakash went for the back seat.

“Watch your head.” Rajiv warned as Prakash ducked to sit in the Nano car. 

“Bhabiji, is she?” Prakash asked Rajiv pointing at the woman who was now powdering her nose while looking at a small circular mirror she took out from her purse.

Rajiv broke into a laugh while the woman looked at Prakash in disbelief with her large brown eyes. 

Rajiv broke the ice, “Meet your colleague and Shweta’s sister- Riya, Senior Manager in the same department as you.”

*

Riya and Prakash got along quite well from the very first day they met. Prakash would keep wooing her with his humour and charm. They would go out for casual dates. Rajiv suspected this would happen from the very first day he introduced them to each other. After all Riya was everything a guy could ask for- beautiful, smart, working, caring yet insouciant. What he did not suspect was the way Prakash left his first love – drinking, within days of meeting Riya. 

“One passion at a time, please.” Prakash would quote facetiously whenever Rajiv would tease him about replacing Tequila with Riya.

*

Prakash’s mother was recovering day by day as she now had three people to take care of her – her son, Rajiv and Riya. Riya would sometimes visit her in the evening, bring fruits and sweets, chat for an hour or two and then leave with Prakash for a night out. 

Prakash’s mother had no reason to disapprove the marriage of Prakash and Riya, as proposed by Rajiv. A pundit was called and a wedding date was fixed. Prakash did not create any fuss this time.

*

Only a week was left before the marriage when it was disclosed to Shweta that Riya was pregnant. A nonplussed Shweta approached Rajiv immediately to tell the news.

It would not have been a problem if the baby were of Prakash.

“But we never had …” Prakash was shocked when Riya told him.

“You were drunk.” Riya reasoned.

“I don’t remember even touching any booze after we met.”

It was crystal clear that Riya was lying when the following night she fled with another guy of their office.

***

“One Martini.” Prakash, in a drunken state, ordered the bartender.

The bartender hesitantly pulled out a glass of martini while the pub played the Tequila Sunrise.

Every night when the sun goes down
Just another lonely boy in town
And she’s out running around

Prakash slammed the glass hard on the table while the bartender stepped back in fear.

“I asked for a bottle of silver Tequila and this is what you give me?” Prakash shouted.

Bartender attended to his order without any hesitation as this was usual, episodic at that pub by the town drunk Prakash .

Sometimes Prakash would meet a well-wisher or two in the pub who would make him sit and understand that he should change his ways.

“It depicts my freedom, my passion, not some stupid lost love or anything.” he would reason while listening to the Whiskey Lullaby in his cell-phone, “Losers, all of you”.

We watched him drink his pain away,
A little at a time,
But he never could get drunk enough,
To get her off his mind …

Sanhita Baruah

Assam Engineering College

http://sanhitabaruah9.blogspot.in/