The time that fate was kind

You wrote to me every day and I to you
Suddenly the letters stopped and so did the news
I loved you too much to imagine the worst
So all I did was hope and pray for the best

Thinking of you in the middle of bloodshed
And the wounded soldiers and injured souls
Was enough to send my heart into a frenzy
And give me the horrible nightmares

I remember the nights I spent crying
Every time I heard mention of a death
Deep down I knew well enough
That you had not left me alone

A year has gone by and the war is won
As I wait at the station glancing at each face
My ray of hope shines bright
Trying to land the spotlight on you

Before I could comprehend anything else
I feel strong arms wrap around me
Your familiar feel surrounds my aura
I let out a relieved breath and a grin appears

You envelope me in a comforting hug
I know I am right where I belong
In your arms safe and sound

You've finally come back home to me


Poem by Revathy Rajan

The writer is a Media & Communication undergraduate student


Its never too late for you to shine

Lost in the dark, lost without that shining spark.
Pain had been his only friend, as there was no one else to give him a hand.
It couldn’t get much worse.
He was nothing but just a curse.
His mind was filled with thoughts that made him shiver.
All you could see was a pale face lit up in front of the mirror.
Never too surprised, never too shocked.
His mind was destroyed and his dreams were locked.
Hopes had no longer existed, and he felt too weak to resist it.
Success, motivation and guidance were all gone.
Even if he knew he was right, he thought it was all wrong.
Giving up was his only option in the midst of things that let him down.
He felt terrible to become the talk of the town.
But tomorrow was another day.
In front of him, was another way.
A ray of light, a ray of hope.
He could finally escape from the dark and grab that rope.
That rope which pulled him further and further towards his dreams.
He was his only support, he was his only team.
It all comes down when everything is fine.

Do what you love, do it now because it’s never too late for you to shine.

Poem by Karan Hanj
The writer is a first year Media & Communication undergraduate student



मुखौटा


सच कि खोज में निकला था वो,

बिना किये परवाह कल कि,

नहीं चाहता था कि कोई पहचाने उसे,

तभी रोज़ बदलता था वो पहचान अपनी,

रोटी-कपडा-मकान के भरम तोड़ कहीं किसी के लिए वो रुका तक नहीं,

कभी पैगम्बर तो कभी मसीहा बना,

कभी नारद का चुगलीवाला ढोंग भी किया,

पर अंत में हाथ लगे सिर्फ नज़रें और चंद पैसे,

फ़िर छोड़ा उसने वो रोज़ मुखोटा पहनना,

आया संसार में तान अपना सीना,

रोज़ वही खाना वही और वही पीना,

कुछ नज़दीकी लोगों से कुछ न कुछ बातें करना,

फ़िर एक सुबह जागके याद आया वो मकसद जिसके लिए था उसे जीना,

घुट रहा था दम उसका रोज़ के वही झमेलों से,

कुछ पैसे कमाओ, कुछ बचाओ, इन दीवारों में नहीं था उसे रहना,

तभी वापस याद आया उसे अपना बदलता मुखौटा,

पाया सच उसीमे जो था हर पल हर घडी बदलता,

और ऐसे ही अपनी कब्र तक पहुंचा, बिना पहचान के, वो बहरूपिया...


Poem by Mahavirsinh Rathod
The writer is a first year Media & Communication postgraduate student


Love sickness


She smiled as he brushed the hair
Away from her face.

He smiled as well
As he squeezed her cheek.

They were a happy couple
Moving at a steady pace.

Little did he know it would
All end in just a week.

She loved his smile
She couldn’t see him sulk.

There is only a certain amount of tragedy
One must endure.

You can never deliver
Tragedy in bulk.

If only it was a mere wound
That tetanus could cure.

She had to tell him
For he’d never forgive her.

She held his hand
Looked deep into his eyes.

He was confused,
He didn’t comprehend.

She took a deep breath 
Steadied her nerves.

‘I love you
I never want to leave

I’d marry you
“But it wouldn’t last too long

Bear with me a week
And you’ll be versatile 

I have cancer
My end is near

The illness has won
I hear it rendering’ 

By Bruce Fernandez

The writer is a first year undergraduate student pursuing Media & Communication

Fake Emotions


Just like every other girl,
She put salt in fire and burned my heart. 
The past seemed to fade away in front of my eyes as I saw her move away from me..
Her thoughts and emotions about me seemed fake.
Fake enough to convince me that the feeling I had for her was a waste. 
A waste of time..effort and love. 
There wasn't any hope left. 
Hope didn't even matter at the moment.
Why? was the only question in my mind. 
Perhaps it was destined. 
Perhaps I didn't deserve her. 
Perhaps she deserved someone better.

By Shreya Roy

The writer is a first year undergraduate student pursuing Media & Communication

The ultimate spark of beauty

I sat by the grass,
looking ahead of me,
beneath lay,
the flowing blue waters,
surrounded by the mountains,
shielded by the grass,
And over the top,
shined the ultimate,
The ultimate spark of beauty,
The ball of fire,
with its rays protruding out,
from a secret within,
And then how could I forget the sides,
for this was complete beauty.

The clouds graced the scene,
And now as I looked,
Looked in totality,
I breathed the fresh air in,
Held it there,
felt the breeze swish by me,
felt the bird chirp while flying amidst those skies,
felt the wet grass beneath me,
felt the inner voice from me,
All in that held breath,
And I exhaled,
Slowly and Steadily,
Unwillingly though,
but waiting for the feeling right after that,
And now I was just getting into it,
the door had opened,
I felt better,
like never before,
In contrast to that routine of mine,
where people,
were my happiness mantra,
I sat here,with nobody,
nobody except me,
nobody except nature,
nobody except peace,
And here is where,
I felt back to life,
The true life,
The Life which meant,
Living in forever ecstasy,
and not,
Living in fake encounters.

-Karishma Hingorani
The writer is a first year undergraduate student pursuing Media & Communication

The Most Beautiful Woman

When the whole world
turned against me,
she was there,
by my side.
Smiling gently, 
she told me “I’m there”.

When everyone walked away,
out of my life,
she held my hand,
close to her heart
and told me:
“I would never leave you!”

When I would be low,
she would stand by me
and console me.

Make me smile.
And I’d be the happiest person
in this world.

At times,
when I cried,
she would lend me
her loving shoulder
to rest my head upon
and feel better.

I enjoyed my life.
I didn’t give her a thought.
But she was still there.
Beside me.
Sacrificing her life,
All for me.

If there is any person
whom I admire today,
there’s only one.

It has to be her,
My Mother.
The most beautiful woman.

By Raina Felix D’souza
The writer is a first year undergraduate student pursuing Media & Communication

 Foggy Night

Sitting by the foggy window pane,
I look out at the dim lights flickering 
Every now and then in the street of Nowhere.

A small boy stands under a lamp post,
Looking at the light with those dreamy eyes.
I wonder out of all kids in the world,
Could he possibly know what it is 
To live a life in darkness.

Perhaps he knew nothing about darkness;
Or perhaps he was just a child 
Curious about the object that made 
His innocent face glow and his eyes gleam in the dark.

The wind grew stronger and louder;
With tiny black boots and thin sweater to keep him warm, 
he continued looking at the Light. 
Could the Light be an angel, a sign or a way to stay warm?

The boy looked like an angel brought down by the Spirit himself in the Shadow of darkness.
Suddenly the view started disappearing as the fog clouded my window pane and my mind

Another look at the street and the child was gone, nowhere to be found. 

By Shreya Roy

The writer is a first year undergraduate student pursuing Media & Communication

22 steps

A blind man's hand, I held,
And said,"can I help?"
"you can, my son."
He replied smilingly without even a question.
"handsome you look, sir" to let him know,
"oh yes, everybody says that but how do I trust?
He didn't miss a step to count,
22 steps and the walkway as he knew exactly.
"Be careful, it's about time that signal will turn green, walk fast!" his words amazed me.
Isn't our carelessness our blindness? It struck me.
Another 22 steps and we stepped onto the pavement.
"Thank you, dear" he spoke as he left
The blind man's stick taught him life.
And I thank him for teaching me life.


My disability gives chance to your sympathy.


By Mahavirsinh Rathod

The writer is a first year postgraduate student pursuing Media & Communication

A State of Mind

Fragile, was his state every night, 

Out of sight; dull seemed the days that passed.

Gloomy thoughts covered that wrinkled forehead,

A daughter who was old enough to get married,

A son whose education cost the same as the house they lived in,

"Questions would be asked";"What would they think?"

The so called "normal" concerns, always bothering him.

Responsibilities they are, no doubt but felt just like they were daily rituals,

His eyes, constantly widened and narrowed to focus on the objects around,

As if, looking for an escape, a way out of this endless turmoil.

The night was colder than usual,

The blanket started to feel thinner with each passing day,

And just like that

the thoughts, just like his mind and heart, stopped!

Fragile, was his state every night until it was no more. 

Poem by Mahavirsinh Rathod
The writer is a first year Media & Communication postgraduate student

A Son’s Deed

The story began when he was a boy;
His dreams, stretching out far beyond the sky.
He lived in a village, a village forlorn;
Where the best of the crops were grown.
He helped his father in the field;
Who worked hard to produce sufficient yield.
The boy was happy, in his own little world;
When one day, a tempest unfurled.
Masked men clothed in black formed the clouds;
That tinged the peaceful blue of the sky, covering it with a shroud.
Just then, young men clothed in the colors of nature appeared;
With dangerous weapons they were geared.
One of the young men approached the boy and his father;
“We have to move out!” he said a little louder;
The sounds of the bullets were terrorizing;
And left nothing worth realizing.
“What’s happened father?” the boy asked;
“The enemies are here!” the father gasped.
Before the father could continue;
He was shot.                  
The boy stared, shocked.
With great strength he walked to a man in green;
“Who are you?” he asked with interest, keen.
“We are soldiers”, replied the man;
“We protect our lands, better than anyone else can”.
The boy looked at the man in admiration;
“I want to be one of you”, he gave his declaration.
Days, months and years passed;
His loyalty towards his land grew, steadfast.
The enemies struck yet again;
And he remembered the day his father was slain.
Fire raged through him;
Smoldering and burning within, without a hint of becoming dim.
He clenched his fists and prepared to fight;
He crouched low, like a lion showing off his might.
The little boy who watched his father die;
Now as a soldier found a golden chance;
And wanted to avenge his loss, at first glance.
He couldn’t control it no more;
On impulse he took out his gun and shot his foe.
The sound of the bullet was music to his ears;
He had felt the pain for too long after losing his dear.
A moment passed when he realized what he had done;
He felt horrible, he wanted to run.
Just as he was about to do so, the sun shone brightly from above;
He saw his father’s face, full of his love.
And right that moment, even though he knew what he had done was wrong;
He smiled along.
Because he knew now, that his father’s soul would rest in peace.
For the foe’s breath had ceased.
Poem by Kanika Mathur
The writer is a first year Media & Communication undergraduate student


Want to publish your work? Read more... 

1 comments:

Mahavir said...

Loved it! Very well written! (y)