Archive for November, 2012

The Roadside Life – Bow-wowooo

Posted: November 29, 2012 by CampusWriting in Writes...
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Amidst heavy noise of wheeled monsters
i opened those what i now call eyes
to get the glimpse of earth,the trees,the dust
the 2 legged creatures & the 4 legged fellow buds

suddenly,a big one of my type came & licked my face
scary!! but it felt nice
mother,i realised the highest authority of our place
i kissed her back & she went on for the next slice

5 buds we were,headed by mother
we played in dust,basked in sun, fought with each other
but the joy, was shortlived
3 of my fellow buds went missing & 1 died

AND I WATCHED…

the shouting thin wheels,yelling small & the roaring huge ones
hoping to catch a glimpse of those missing & the missing fun
slowly i lost my faith & the feeling went abate
mother decided to take me away,we decided to migrate

this new world was more cheerful
green cover,lesser noise & plenty of 2 legged creatures
who roamed & walked & did weird things
I had just started enjoying this purity of nature
when the fortune stung me again
& the poison,deadlier

out in search of food mother was run over by a car
i saw her body twisting & turning in pain
a string of blood coming out of her mouth
she wanted to cry but even that was in vain
finally, she closed her eyes & took the final breath.
i somehow managed to reach her body in that busy hell
only to be shooed away by the cars & human yells
that night she was taken away & put into water
i was deprived of even a heartfull view of her depleted body
i could only curse nature for this merciless slaughter
i moaned,i wept,i cried,i bawled

AND I WATCHED…

the cars,the bikes who destroyed my world
moving unaffected,still in action
tears in my eyes i cursed each one of them
even ran behind some out of frustration
humans who visited the place regularly
sympathized on seeing me alone
some by brushing their hands over my head,
some with biscuits & some with an affectionate tone

days passed by & the grief faded away
but that wasn’t the end of it

on a chilly winter night in desperation out of hunger
i growled over a human
only to arouse his hostility & his anger
i was thrashed & thrashed hard
the pain in the left leg knew no bounds
the chilled wind slashing it like sword
was again left crying,& later restricted to light moans
somehow i slept,cursing nature for making humans our lords
waking up i realized any feeling in the left leg had vanished
it was left as a useless,hanging part
i just hopped & crawled to break the monotony of sitting idle

until the day i met my final fate
it was probably the cold of winter peak
or probably the extinction of any wish to live

AND NOW…I WATCH…

this beautifully-ugly,mercilessly-merciful & cruelly-benevolent world
that has learnt one thing above all i.e. to move on & on & on

I watch it now from ‘the skies above’…

Apurv Srivastava

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The True Artist

Posted: November 29, 2012 by CampusWriting in Writes...
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Since my childhood, I wanted to attain fame and always be remembered as a true artist. I wanted my art to have a long-lasting impact & what better way than personally drawing the line between life and death.
My art was murder.

Each of my murders was very carefully and precisely planned, all loopholes taken care of. Even the person murdered suffered the fastest and least painful death. A bullet straight through his brains. It was because of this kind perfection with which I handled my work, I never had a police record. It was as if I never existed.
But I did. Every artist wants recognition for his work. I was no different. So I left a picture of Da Vinci on the dead body with my signature.

It was my way of showing to the world that I was a true artist just like Da Vinci. Today had been my sixty-seventh murder. A darkroom, a sleeping mafiaso, one muffled shot and then silence. My only regret was that my family would never learn about my greatness. The door opened and my eleven year old son ran into my arms. He was excited about some prank he had pulled on me and wanted to tell me about it. He said, “Daddy, today I saw you put a picture of an old man in your pocket. I replaced his picture with this picture.” In his hands was a group photo of my family with my signature. I had two of them- one of which was with my son. The second photo lay drenched in the blood of a 60 year-old mafiaso.

I had made a mistake.

Rafaa Dalvi

M. H. Saboo Siddik College of Engineering, Mumbai

http://rafaadalvi.blogspot.com/

मांडवी

Posted: November 28, 2012 by CampusWriting in Hindi Write-ups, Srijan; BITS Pilani GOA, Writes...
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मांडवी, पणजी के साथ साथ बहती, जीवनधारा है, समृद्धी का, आर्थिक सम्पन्नता का आधार है, विशाल है, विख्यात है और अगर ध्यान से देखें तो बला की खूबसूरत है! रात में जब पूरे शहर की रौशनी को खुद में तारों जैसे समेट लेती है, तो आसमान कहाँ, और धरती कहाँ, कोई फर्क नहीं रह जाता। देखा तो कई बार है, पर एक दिन जब टैक्सी में रेडियो पर बजते ‘मैं पल दो पल का शायर हूँ ‘ सुनते हुए उसकी ओर देखा तो उसके आहिस्ता आहिस्ता बहते पानी में बहुत सुकून पाया। हरिद्वार में जब गंगा मैदानों में उतरती है तो उसकी तीव्रता में जो शक्ति होती है वो मन के हर विचार को कुछ देर के लिए हरा देती है, यदि गंगा में प्रभुत्व है तो मांडवी में शीतलता है, घावों को भरने की क्षमता, स्थिरता है।

सहसा ही इच्छा हुई की रुक कर छू लूँ उसे। तट के उस पार पहाड़ हैं, पेड़ हैं, घर हैं, और मंदिर। कुछ पंक्तियाँ होठों तक आती हैं,
‘इस पार प्रिये, मधु है, तुम हो,
उस पार ना जाने क्या होगा’
जो काम पहले ख़त किया करते थे, अब sms के ज़रिये हो जाया करते हैं। सो आज ये छंद और मांडवी की असीम खूबसूरती को शब्दों में कैद कर कुछ अज़ीज़ लोगों को भेजा दिया। इस उम्मीद में की अपनी अपनी ज़िन्दगी की कहानियों में मसरूफ वो लोग जब किसी नदी को देखेंगे, यही गुनगुनायेंगे, कुछ ये छंद, कुछ हम, कुछ ये दिन उन्हें याद आयेंगे। और साथ ही आएगी एक मुस्कराहट।
अगर आप कभी गोवा आयें तो समंदर के अलावा इस बेमिसाल नगीने को देखना न भूलें। शाम को नदी किनारे बैठ सूरज को उस पार डूबने दें, और इस पार अपने मन की सभी कुंठाएं, कभी ग़मों को जाता हुआ महसूस करें। इसकी निरंतरता में अपनी नश्वरता को महसूस करें।
और जब सूरज डूब जाए तो निराश ना हों, क्योंकि अगली सुबह वो फिर यहीं से उगेगा और इस अंतराल में जो मुख़्तसर सियाह रात है वो भी किसी महबूब के आँचल सी रोशन है। बेजोड़ है।
-ऐश्वर्या तिवारी 
in collaboration with Srijan; BITS Pilani, Goa

1 new unread message

Posted: November 28, 2012 by CampusWriting in Writes...
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How i want to start this story just like any other, saying once upon a tym but here goes…….One new unread msg the fone beeped, she picked it up n read it out loud “hey…” the msg said from an unknown sender. being the over enthusiast she is , she replied “who is this?”.

soon, *they* were texting…texting all the tym…texting day n nite…textin abt everything..and anything. afterall they had been friends for a long tym…just that they hadnt been in touch with eachother for the past couple of months n had a lot of catching up to do. The smile that she had thot had faded away was put back on her face n was so evident that everyone around her knew sumthng had changed. She felt like a middle school girl, having her first crush, all over again n she felt even more excited n special wen she knew the boy too felt the same for her.

*basic girl psychology: girls always very badly want the guys,who they hav a crush on to ask them out but they hav no idea if they will even say yes to him n this is the universal truth!*

One new unread msg ..his fone beeped..she confessed..she was falling for him…not slowly…but flat on her face! she had no clue that he wud also reciprocate n take wat she said seriously (not that she didnt want him to)but she had to consider the other ppl who she loved n who have loved her back all her life.

he knew everything abt her n she knew everything abt him…he knew she was his *one*n not just another girl in his life. she wasnt so sure but all she knew was that he meant a lot to her

how much she wanted to say *im the one for u* (that was the truth!) but her sanity n sensibility held her back.her consideration towards her family n their reaction wen they found out about her new found but special relationship ,held her back.

*typical indian teenage girl theory: girls cannot decide which to hold on to wen it cums to deciding between an external relationship n the ones they share with their families…cos they r not allowed to date , and of course , cos falling in love with sumone is close to a criminal offence in most indian families.*(jokes apart)

well…she was a typical indian teenage girl too..just like any of us. n now she had to pick one, of her two cheeks.

complexity was at work.

gain one , lose the other. gain the other, lose the one.

love him, obtain hate frm the others….or … dont love him, immeasureable love frm the others.

One new unread msg…his fone beeped. “i need to talk to u..its important” her msg said.

Both of them walked away from the bond they shared n which they hoped wud last long .they became the two friends they were, who werent in touch with each other a couple of months back. but this tym he stayed away frm her n the love for her ,for the sake of her happiness n as an effort to not collapse the fragile relationship she had with her family. n she stayed away frm him n his love ,for all the other ppl she loved equally in her life.

love was abandoned. their hearts, a crime scene .commitment was deserted.

One new unread message…his fone beeped..*i have always loved u n i always will n i dont think it will change.* her msg read. he replied …*i will never let it change.*

She had realised that no matter where it went n how it ended, he wud always be that middle school girl’s crush who means the world to her.

*a boy n girl relationship is always confusing, chaotic n complicated,its the fact. only tym will tell who emerged victorious in the war between raging hormones n the want to be a perfect family member, a clean slate.*

The end

Sruthi Laya

My conversation with life…

Posted: November 25, 2012 by CampusWriting in Writes...
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As the house sleeps in deep slumber at night 1 :00 am, when evn i should be in deepest of my dreams, i am awake, wide awake,, looking blankly at the ceiling above, , my mind is awake with strange questions, high ambitions, and it is yearning to talk its heart out,, well even at this time my 2 am friend would be sleeping peacefully, all i had was my mind and the long night, and my questions…i usually like the silence of the night, it brings me one o one with my thoughts, and thats exactly what was happening with me the other night,, i started to write an unusual conversation with life itself,, hoping that life would somewhere answer me that why its the way it is, why its not the way it should be,, i began with ,, 
me : hey life how have u been ,,
life : u know how i have been ,,,as if mockingly smiling at me at night 1:00 am
me : yeah i know not too smooth,, you have had a tough time throughout,,
life : yes.. and i dnt find any chance of easing the situations down for you too, its my gift to you …you see,,,
me : ahh yess , i do see, i have been seeing it for a while now, you love throwing challenges at me don’t you…?? i asked scornfully…
life ; well it was sent from above, i thought it must be for you,, so i just pass it on to you, but i do provide a lot of choices too,, to fight or to give up,
to smile or to cry, 
to win or to lose,
to make a difference or just sit where you are, don’t i ? 

me : oh yess,,, the choices, how can i forget that,,, u have had given me tough choices, real tough ones, sometimes i really wish there were no such things as choices, no decisions, no defining moments, no thinking twice before doing anything, 
i really wish, you were as soft as a rose petal, as melodious as a mother’s lullaby to her child which lulls her off to sleep with no worries,
as honest as if the word deciet never really existed, but thats all wishful thinking,, i find it instead cacophonic sometimes, unreciprocative, not even responding to help you out from the problem, thorny which prick,, and hurt

life: hmmm… i am not so bad as you think… i prefer taking an exam first and then teaching the good way,, u learn to get up 8 times after i make u fall 7 times, u learn to smile after i make you cry in the hardest times, you learn to trust after you have got betrayal in the first chance, above all i somewhere teach you to take risks, because that makes you believe in your strength and work on your weakness , thats why you succeed 90 % well 10 % u just leave it to him,, because you believe that i am a gift of his to you and he would always protect your gift that is your life, that is me 🙂 

Land eventually due to my tough ways which you and i both experience you learn to survive,,
me : but do i live sometimes ? i just survive,, i want to live life as the way i want,
my mind questioned back retortedly almost disturbing the silence when it realised my voice had too counted in the question.. 

To this life replied diplomatically and cunningly,, again your choice.. do u wanna celebrate or just exist.. if you wanna celebrate then work hard,, to make it worthwhile, and if you want to just exist then just do nothing and sit and blankly look at where i am going….

I asked almost crying out.. why do you always have to answer this way??
to this life seemed to answer smilingly because i want YOU to make the right decision…
i asked and how do i do that, just like a lost child wants to know the way back home.

Sometimes i feel life shows an answer to everything….
and too this too it seemed to reply … by listening to your heart…
and i was still at the answer , still gazing at the ceiling, and the hour hand slowly ticking by 2:05 am,, i had still more questions… i am never short of them either in my mind or in my life.. 
i asked, doesn’t mind to play a role in this, ?? eagerly waiting for life to answer back in my imaginary conversation which was running in my mind…. 
life : yes it does, it has to be strong after the heart follows its way, after the heart does what it wishes to, the mind should be strong enough like the heart to be strong, to be calm to be poised, to rule out negativity after you decide that this is it… 
me : what if ?? it does… 
life : then it is your responsibility to act like a shield and safegaurd the heart’s decision . and not let any futile thought change it,, 
me : what if the heart is not right at times ? it may take the wrong decision, 
life : what if the mind is right according to you and yet the decision you make with mind is proved to be wrong .. ??
if you find logic with every thing.. you won’t find faith,,, faith doesn’t need logic, it just needs the heart as its place.. to reside…

I looked still ,, at life as it how easily it answered my most complicated question.. well i had even more… and as if i wanted an answer to every thing happening,, every reason,, i was impatient, i was helpless, i was almost broken,,, life told.. 

Somethings are meant to be because god wants them to be like that ,, may be you are learning new things which you don’t realise now but you will realise later when you look at me, from some point of your life, where there will be questions as you have now, but you would have some answers too… 
i somewhere wanted to believe that,, may be i was learning something.. may be i was learning life.
for the first time i had a candid chat with my life,, trying to find reason.. trying to instill faith that whatever happens happens for the good,. and may be i wanted to take that as an answer to my unanswered question, to my question as in why i had failed.. to my question why i was left alone, to my question.. why i was made to cry.. ? life answers in some way or the other

As i looked outside the window…there was tinge of sunlight in the dark sky…. the dawn had come.. a new day had begun…filling my heart with hope and gratitude to life that whatever it had given me i would live it,, as i CHOSE to do so,, 🙂 and my converstaion with my life that night taught me something new…that life is all about choices folks,, never chances…

Mili Biswas

NIFT

The darker side of light

Posted: November 25, 2012 by CampusWriting in Writes...
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I walked. I was humming a song to myself. A sad song- Bleeding Love. The singer was pining for her beloved. She spoke of how they keep trying to pull her away, but her then she kept bleeding love, because her lover had cut her open. I thought I could relate to her, except that I was bleeding blood. The gash I’d inflicted upon my wrist was slowly but steadily draining my veins. I was glad though, that I could not see it. It was too dark for the trickling red drops to be visible.

Suddenly, I stumbled against something. The thing woke up with a start. It was a homeless boy, probably my age, sleeping on the pavement, wrapped up in tethers- his version of a blanket. He looked at me and smiled. What could possibly make him smile in the dead of the night after being rudely awakened, I asked him. He was dreaming a beautiful dream, he said- one in which he could sleep for as long as he wanted. One in which he did not have to wake up at 4 am to walk to the brick kiln to work all day long and make his way to a slow death from dust poisoning. He asked me, “Yeh subah hoti kyun hai”? 

I smiled at him and tried to move on. But the pain in my wrist was beginning to numb me. I wanted to walk ahead, but as long as there was even a little bit of life was left in me, I was a slave to the commands of my body. I leaned against an ambulance parked nearby. I looked at its insides. It was one of those well-equipped ones, with life support systems and a very comfortable looking bed. I couldn’t help but wonder, how many lives did this ambulance help save everyday? Ten? Twenty? Fifty? The life support system, that soft bed- did they really matter when you were dying? At night, the ambulance was just another vehicle, waiting patiently for the emergency to occur the next morning. If it had a mind, would it have wanted the sun to rise the next day, bringing with it yet another crisis? Somebody’s mother, somebody’s brother, somebody’s child battling for life… the ambulance saw all this everyday. I wonder if it ever got as sick of its life as I had gotten of mine. 

The blood from my wrist was still dripping. I looked around. I could see the silhouette of my city against the night sky. The city I loved. The city that I hated. It looked beautiful now. All I could see was the minaret of the mosque nearby, with a huge statue of a Hindu God in the background. I had never seen a sight more divine, more touching. I was thankful to the darkness of the night, for I had seen what the same scene would look like in the daylight. 

Suddenly, I saw a light go on in the minaret of the mosque. I heard the azzan begin, and realized that dawn was breaking. My body had gone completely numb, and I felt the last dregs being sucked out of the
cup that was my life. I lay down on the street, when
suddenly somebody stumbled against my body.

It was the brick-kiln boy- the boy who loved sleeping, the boy who hated daylight, for that meant working in inhuman conditions. He was in a hurry, he did not recognise me. Besides in the dark I doubt he’d seen my face too well. Suddenly I wished I had not slashed my wrist. I wanted to live. I turned my face to look at the Hindu God behind the mosque- In the pink light of daybreak, I could see the idol that had been defaced by the members of the community whose mosque the Hindus had painted black during a communal riot. I asked Him to send the driver of the ambulance to me, to take me to a hospital where I could be saved. But no miracle happened.

Later in the day, as the sun shone down upon the city, bathing it in a warm light, people found my lifeless body lying next to the ambulance.

Arpita Nandi

Amrita School of Engineering / IBM India Pvt Ltd

http://www.arpitascorner.blogspot.com/

Posted: November 24, 2012 by CampusWriting in Images
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“All great literature is one of two stories; a man goes on a journey or a stranger comes to town.”

― Leo Tolstoy

MAI DARD KI AWAAZ HOO

Posted: November 24, 2012 by CampusWriting in Writes...
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Ankho se neend hai khafa 
aur, baki hai puri rat,
sunta hoo ghari ki tiktik kabhi
kart hoo andhere se bat,
mai andhero ka humraaz hoo;
ankhe band karta hoo to
sapne ubhar ate hai patal par
kisi dard ki tarh,
mai dard ki awaaz hoo;
meri sard aaho ki sakhi 
taptap roti sardi ki rat,
aajkal deewaro se 
mai bantta hoo apne jajbat,
par deewre kuch bolti hi nahi 
mai deewaro se naaraz hoo;
chup ho rehta hoo thakkar
par bate nikal aati hai aankho se
sard rato ki tarh tapak kar,
mai khwahiso ki kabr par 
aansuo se likha alfaz hoo;
bejan deewaro se sar patakkar lautti 
mai dard ki awaaz hoo…

Aaditya Singh

National Institute of Fashion Technology, Delhi

Posted: November 24, 2012 by CampusWriting in Featured, Videos

UNSPOKEN

Posted: November 23, 2012 by CampusWriting in Writes...
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Few words unspoken,
few emotions unexpressed,
few questions unanswered,
few feelings unknown and strange,
few smiles for no reason,
few heartbeat skipped when you were around,
few moments stolen because it had u in them,, 
few messages just saved as drafts,
few walks walked alone…
few stories incomplete, 
few lies told as if dey were the truth,,
few moments of attraction, 
few moments of realisation, 
few words of self explanation….
few days of despair,
few weeks of self questioning, whether the person likes you back..
few months of just letting things be as you don’t want to ruin the friendship..
few seconds of trying to keep the changed feelings hidden from the world.. ,, 
but sometimes however courage we gather it still remains unspoken..

PS: these are just few feelings what i have experienced when i liked some one but i wasn’t able to say it.. but that doesn’t imply all cannot say it…

Ananya Biswas

NIFT