Posts Tagged ‘Emotions’

Reproduced Imagery

Posted: August 23, 2014 by Ankur in Contest, Writes...
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“If you see the world in black and white, you’re missing the important grey matter.”

Similar is the motif. Journalist Sydney J. Harris once quoted as saying, “The whole purpose of education is to turn mirrors into windows.”

The line may seem complex on reading once or maybe twice, however isn’t so abstract after the third. Looking into the mirror one may get eyeful of oneself, which limits our view to become a social evil, to become full of “me”.

However, education makes us clairvoyant. It fades the mirror to become window, provide with the much needed perspective and an outward look. The view of the horizon of opportunities, through the window of education is serene, (Yes, despite of the concrete monsters, having a tendency to block the view) just like the opportunities one gets on gaining higher education.

However, the students now know failure isn’t an option but an inevitable truth. We all are set to chase down our dreams, to become leaders of tomorrow.

Abhishek Mantri

SPC, Pune

abhishekmantri9@gmail.com

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Convivial Relationships

Posted: August 22, 2014 by Ankur in Contest, Writes...
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What’s being a friend when you’re not there for each other at your worst?

This quote above just passed me by in a column I was reading with just an eye open, and soon as they hit my head, I couldn’t stop my thoughts from running helter-skelter.

Sometimes, it’s so hard being who you are and finding who you are, that maintaining friends becomes a little tricky! Somehow I always have managed to get some real personalities – maybe by people pleasing, or being goofy – who till date I etch onto. There are so many instances in my short life of 20 years that I have witnessed such humbleness of these wretched souls that it’s scary.

We all have certain traits and the beauty of being friends with different humans is the end result. It’s such a beautiful amalgamation of emotions, so raw and undermined. That sort of understatement is what everyone longs and it beckons everyone in the back of the head, like a burning sensation.

We all crave that sort of a relationship with a soul, where there is no surreptitious behavior, no malice and any kind of negativity. One said truly that when you have good friends, you don’t need any other mean of entertainment. Such joys, of having that person in your life where you can be goofy and still not give a damn is so appealing to me, and I guess anyone. Because let’s face it, no one likes to be judged!

My own friends are such drastic ends of a spectrum, they’re scattered in every dimension I can think of. Some, have famously become infamous, and the others, well, are still with me. I’m picky about the people I like to hang around because it is indeed disheartening to have someone be your friend and use your name in a derogatory manner. I think that sort of a negative environ is not and should not be entertained.

Rants after rants, I can say that I love myself more than my friends I’ve come to a conclusion that I owe so much of my personality to these souls I’ve come across because, it is of their immense criticism and clandestine behavior, I am what I am.

And I’m happy that this essay has no head and no tail, because I feel when you plan what you want to write, it becomes sketchy. I like it that it is crude, fibrous, and callow because for me, that is the essence of friendship.

Here’s to being a friend, forever and ever

Devesh Baheti

Institute Of Aeronautical Engineering

deveshbaheti84@gmail.com

Price of your Dreams

Posted: August 6, 2014 by Ankur in Contest, Writes...
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The daughter lay on the bed facing her pillow, deep in the vividness of her thoughts.
Her mother asked, ” What is that you dream about?”

“Dream? I’m trying not to dream. There’s always a price you have to pay for your dreams.” She mumbled from inside the pillow.

“Aren’t you paying a price right now, for not dreaming?”
She sat up this time.

“Then which price is higher? Should I dream or should I only live what life brings to me?”

“Life will bring to you what you desire. The choice is between the price you pay for following your dreams and the price you pay for giving up on them. Come, lets go shopping.”

The two went into an expensive shop. The mother told the daughter to look for something that fits her perfectly. The daughter followed. She was surprised at the perfect fit and the high quality of the cloth. She felt confident wearing it.
Then the mother told her to abandon that dress and look for one which was a size bigger. The new dress hung loose on her. She did not look very pretty in it neither did she feel comfortable. The mother asked her to buy the loose dress.

“But it doesn’t even fit me, mother. Its of no use.”

“So what? It covers you, that’s the purpose right?”

“No that’s not the soul purpose. If it was so, why don’t I drape a cloth around me. That would cover me equally well.”

The mother then asked the shopkeeper the price of both the dresses. “The price is the same. They’re both equally costly, the only difference is their size.” Replied the shopkeeper.

The mother explained, “Living your dreams and giving up on them both have a high price to pay. Only one is a perfect fit and elevates you, while the other, as you said, is of no use to you.
When you did not give up on the dress even when I insisted, why give up on your dreams for any reason in the world?”

The mother is right. She teaches not only the daughter but us all a lesson. There is always a price to pay, it is on you to decide what it has to be paid for.

Go on. Dream freely. Live your dream. Then dream again.

Soumyaa Verma

Faculty of law, MSU, Vadodara

Insan Badal Rha Hai

Posted: July 2, 2014 by Ankur in Contest, Writes...
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Mombabti Ko Jalane wala, Ghee K Diye Bhul Rha Hai,
Abhinetriyo Ko Chahne wala, Maa Saraswati Ko Bhul Rha Hai.
Insan Badal Rha Hai
Insan Badal Rha Hai.

Ekkisive(21st) Sadi Me Pashchatya Rang Me Ranga, Yua Apne Sanskar Bhul Rha Hai,
Kisi ek Chehre Ke Khatir- Maa-Baap Ko Bhul Rha Hai,
Insan Badal Rha Hai
Insan Badal Rha Hai.

Videso Ko Jane Wala, Swadesh Ko Bhul Rha Hai,
Unchaeyo Ko Chhune Wala, Apne Shikshako Ko Bhul Rha Hai,
Insan Badal Rha Hai
Insan Badal Rha Hai.

Baccho K Bhavishya K Chintan me Pita, Din-Raat Parishram Kr Rha Hai,
Baccha Adhunikta ke Is Daur Me, Pita K Arman Kuchal Rha Hai,
Insan Badal Rha Hai
Insan Badal Rha Hai.

Ladka Apni Jivan Sangini Ka Agyakari Ho Rha Hai,
Maa-Baap Ko Vridha Avastha me Chhod, Patni Sang Alag Reh Rha Hai,
Insan Badal Rha Hai
Insan Badal Rha Hai.

Betiya Ghar Ke Lakshmi Hoti, Is Baat Ko Insan Bhool Rha Hai,
Ladki K Janam pe Dukhi, Ladke K Janam Pe Utsahit Ho Rha Hai,
Insan Badal Rha Hai
Insan Badal Rha Hai.

Desh Ka Netritva Krne Wala, Rajneeti K Mayne Bhool Rha Hai,
Loktantra Ke Gangotri- ‘SANSAD’ Ko Jaane wala, Samvidhan Ke Garima Bhul Rha Hai,
Insan Badal Rha Hai
Insan Badal Rha Hai.

Desh 14 February Ko Valentine Day Mana Rha Hai,
Usi Din Desh K liye Shahid Hue, Bharat Maa K Saputo Ko Bhula Rha Hai,
Insan Badal Rha Hai
Insan Badal Rha Hai.

Hey Bharat K Baccho, Jamane aur Sadi Ke Is Badal Me Tum Na Badlo,
Bharat K Chahumukhi Vikas Avam Navnirman K Liye,
Tum Apni Bhartiya Sanskriti Na Bhulo,
Tum Apni Bhartiya Sanskriti Na Bhulo.

Anand Dubey

F.I.M.T. IP University, New Delhi

Mixed Emotions

Posted: June 17, 2014 by Ankur in Writes...
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Its like we were stuck in a quandary,
Bored out of limits or any boundary.
Stuck in a room where it hurts to breathe,
Had no option but to grind our teeth.

Numb in the brain, weak in the head,
It was painful to even get out of bed.
Didn’t have nobody to speak to, nobody to complain,
Only hearing the noises of cars, buses and train.

To come undone with a change in attitude was all I needed,
Eh! what was I thinking? Was I weeded?
To be who I am today is all I wanted,
Though I was penalised, teased and taunted.

Change is good is what they say,
But I’m not changing.. Even if they may.
Because I’ve dreaded too far to be myself today,
So this is my place, and I’m here to stay.

Abhishek Mantri

abhishekmantri9@gmail.com

Angel in Dark

Posted: April 23, 2014 by Ankur in Contest, Writes...
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ContestA girl cant hide the tears in her eyes,
Nor she can tell anyone about her cries.
But i don’t know why she has to lie,
About all the pain and suffering in her life.
Why she has to wear such a fake smile,
And disguise everyone passing by….

I have been with a lot of girls,
some came for love and some for lust.
But still i can’t discover their world,
which is still an alien Universe….

The only thing which comes in my mind,
whenever i see this alien kind.
Is the tide of sadness in their eyes,
which they cant hide from all their lies…

I wish i can change their past,
Cos that what moulds their present hour.
It makes them hide all their pain,
Cos they were hit by a tragic train.
Still i wish they could move on,
And trust someone else with a love tone.
But this is the thing they are afraid of,
Which makes them diff frm this world n so…

Chitrank Sheemar

Delhi Technological University

chitrank23@gmail.com

Just A Phase

Posted: April 19, 2014 by Ankur in Contest, Writes...
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ContestWelcome to the world of inhuman humans
Now you will be loved and pampered
Cuddled cared stared
Everyone around is extra cautious
You are surrounded by people always
Your smile will mean everything
Your cry may be annoying, but never irritating
Efforts will be made by one n all to make you happy
It’s just a phase!!

You are turning three
time to join the race kid!
School, early morning rush..
Lunch-box, notebooks, homework
Way to go, keep competing
Always score high, Don’t lose
Else get ready for a scolding
Comparing marks….?
Ha! Wait for the entrance exams
You, your happiness, your childhood, your life
They are not of any importance

t’s time where society will give you free opinions
your life will be dependent on your rank
You cannot be happy because you didn’t score well
Oh! you have no right to live
You are a loser!
IIT/  MBBS.. You couldn’t get in!
Looking at others who got through?
Feel so unlucky!
This will soon pass by
Just another phase!!

You are glad
You have friends
You hang out every evening
Chit chat with others
Shopping is always on the agenda?
Trying to hook up for fun… ?
Cracking jokes, Laughing out loud
Stupid acts, Teasing others
You have best friends, worst enemies
It’s just a phase!

Time for college
They said it would be fun
They said its easy
You were told you can do just about anything
You seem happy, you will get freedom!

top!! What are you doing?
Not much studies….. You can bunk classes
Really? Nah! Just kidding
You will know what the world is now
Bunking? More of sneaking..
Risking a lot
Profs. will have to be flattered if you wanna score
You will have to be a bad ass to have fun with friends
Parents don’t really support you?
Sorry, you can’t really have friends.
It’s a phase, will soon end

You have great friends
but you want more now

You begin to fall for someone
O!! Look around for all kinds of expressions!
It’s not that easy my child..
You will find many smart boys/girls
You will be impressed by a lot
You are vulnerable to what the other will say
Please don’t slip yet! Just stay.
Stay where you are
It may not be what you want
may lead you to the darkest of dawns ..

supri21@gmail.com

How I saw my ‘Maamu’ become Immortal

Posted: April 18, 2014 by Ankur in Writes...
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ContestThe title? How I saw my ‘Maamu’ become immortal. Who am I? Just a 16 year old, who found writing this article way more interesting than my Economics text book. Maamu? My maternal uncle. These 16 years were fun! A sense of growth and change in each one of them. I’m just 16 years old and I have no knowledge on how to particularly write a piece of story so basically this is just a rawly written piece by me.

7 June, 1997, I was born (with a lot of difficulties). I, being the only child was pampered a lot. I was my maamu’s favourite and he was mine! He had this habit of clicking photos of me, framing them and then decorating them in his flat. We went for walks, him carrying me and walking around the colony we live in. 

Years went by, things didn’t change. I was very fond of him. I could recognise him just by the fragrance of his favourite perfume and the noise his watch made when he opened the door with the keys from outside. It was a normal day, the 4 year old me was throwing tantrums for not going to school. The deal was, if you agree to buy me a toy from my favourite toy shop after school, only then would I get ready for school and as usual maamu agreed. This is why my house cabinets are still loaded with more than a hundred toys. Maamu would make me sit on the petrol tank of his red bike, so that I could catch the handle of the bike and feel as though I was riding it. He would ride me on his bike to school, would buy me 2 packets of waffers, would get my shoes polished from the ‘polish-wala’ on the road, would make me drink coconut water from the ‘naariyal paani- wala’ and only then would he send me inside the school gate. Yes, I was pampered a lot. The weekend s were even more fun! I remember, it was a Sunday, I and maamu were on his bike with my soft toy monkey, Jojo. We were riding all our way from Colaba to Chowpatty, when suddenly Jojo fell off my hands. We couldn’t find it again. I was upset and more than me, maamu was upset because I was upset, his princess! After 2 days when I came back from school, I found Jojo resting on my bed with a few stitches of white here and there. I was the happiest person! I grew older, 6 years old. Maamu had a bike accident but was fine, as told by him. A few days later, maamu was rushed into the hospital. The ‘dudh-wala’ and the neighbours got worried when he didn’t open the door for hours. My paa and other mama had to break open the door. They found him, laying down on the floor, in a pool of his own urine, shaking profusely and had white fin coming out of his mouth. He was subjected to have brain tumour. My maamu had cancer, stage 3. He was soon brought back to consciousne ss. His hair had to be shaven off for the operations that had to be done. I went to meet him after all his operations were done. He looked different and weak. He had a very deep scar on his bald held, it looked like a fold. He covered his head with a cap, when I came to meet him. He didn’t like me coming to the hospital at such a young age and for one more reason. My maamu being MY maamu, had decorated his hospital room the same way he decorated his flat. My photo frames everywhere around the room. The people in the hospital thought that I was his daughter because of the amount of affection he showed towards me. After a lot of treatments maamu was sent back home. His journeys from house to hospital continued.

I was now 8 years old, having computers at home was something very great at that time, we didn’t have one at that time. My teacher scolded me for not submitting my project. Projects were meant to be all fancy and colourful in standard three. I came back home, started weeping like a widow and when asked what happened, I just said, “We don’t have a computer! I can’t make a project!.” The very next day, maa gave me the phone to speak to maamu, he said, “Let’s make your project together!” Yes, he was and IS my hero. We made the project and we nailed it! Mine was the best project of my class. I was proud. My hero kept protecting me and making me feel like a hero for the rest of the years.

One year later, I returned home from school, opened the lift door and found my daadu (my paternal side grandmother) standing outside the life, waiting for me to arrive. She looked worried. ”Maamu is no more, Maa’s gone to the hospital,” she said. It didn’t sink in to me for quite a long time. I didn’t know what was happening, I was just 9 years old. I didn’t know what death was. I didn’t cry. Maa saw him die in front of her eyes in the hospital. She was depressed. He used to go for chemo therapy everyday. This therapy, that therapy! The day he died was his last day of therapy. Nothing worked. He didn’t like going to the hospital at all. He wanted to stay at home, enjoy life, ride his bike, play music, play the piano. But alas!

It’s been years now! Things have changed. I have changed. I now know what had happened. I miss him. No, I am not depressed. He is there, right there with me all the time.Yes, I can sense him. I enjoy life, the way he wanted to and I will keep staying happy because I know he is watching me.. He is immortal.

Kashmira Pochkhanawala

K.P.B Hinduja College Of Commerce, Mumbai

existingnomore@yahoo.com


Its been 2 years or some 3 odd semesters as I sit down to write this letter. 2 years since the day I first noticed you. 2 years since my metamorphism. In retrospect, it seems a long time. However, it flew by so fast. I felt sand slipping out of my hand- uncontrolled and inevitable. But before we step into a new world altogether, I want you to know something. Something clandestine. Something that I have been negating since day 1 to everyone. I want you to know that you matter to me. Probably the most in this foreign land.

I love the way you do everything. The way your wisps of hair fall on your face and you keep tucking them behind your ears, the way you make gestures with your hand while speaking, your green salwar suit which emanates your divinity. Yes, I noticed, I noticed everything about you. I am sorry but I couldn’t stop myself from doing that. I never witnessed what people call as true love, but I want to tell now if they mean falling in love means always thinking about that one person, then I am in love; if they say falling in love means that you never see any other face and just yearn and wish to see that one face, then I am in love. I don’t know whether I love your cherry coloured lips more, or those dreamy beautiful a little tired eyes or those playful hands or those flowing legs or rhythmic melody of your voice or that cheery countenance which effuse like a balmy breeze in your presence.
I know I am not perfect. Not even near to perfection. No, I don’t play guitar, neither can I write you romantic poems nor can I compose and record songs for you. I can’t make beautiful sketches for you either. Believe me, I would have loved to do any of the above things, but I Can’t. 

See, I can be your best partner in rain dance. I can increase your platelets count and make sure it never falls. I can be your best company to the long drives and street foods. I can be all ears whenever you want to do the talking. I will make sure you cry, cry a lot (laughing). If you are cindrella, I can be your lost shoe. I love you.

(P.S. I still have this mail in my draft box. I know we were never meant to be together hence i never pressed the send button. Whatever, I have learned to live up with this unrequited love.)

Adarsh

IIT Kharagpur

Maa ki yaad

Posted: March 26, 2014 by Ankur in Writes...
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Bhar jati aakhaon me aasu jb yaad maa teri aati hai .
Na kat te pl bhar bhi jb wo teri bichdi yaade is dil ko chu jati hai .
bachpan me jo tune pyar dular kiya.jb aata hm pr koi sankat tb
tune hi hme apne aanchal me chipa liya.wo kala tika mastik pr
ankit kr tune is dunia me hme kali najro se bacha liya…

Bhar jati aakhaon me aasu jb yaad maa teri aati hai .
Na kat te pl bhar bhi jb wo teri bichadi yaade is dil ko chu jati hai .
Hey maa ghumi maine dunia sari phir bhi na koi aisa yaar
mila,jis se mil sake mughe aisa pyar na yahan aur na hi is
sansaar ne diya.

Bhar jati aakhaon me aasu jb yaad maa teri aati hai .
Na kat te pl bhar bhi jb teri wo teri bichadi yaade is dil ko chu jati hai…

Amit Kumar

BBDNITM Lucknow