अपनी मोहब्बत को किसी और के साथ देखना जानते हो,
पढ़ के तो दर्द समझोगे,
इस दर्द को करीब से पहचानते हो,
जब वो उसका हाथ थाम के घुमा करेगा
जिसने कल तुमसे वादा किया था, कि वह कल तुम्हें रोका करेगा,
उसका नाम जब उसके साथ लिया जाएगा,
जी पाओगे ? यह जहर पिया जाएगा ?
वो जब उसे प्यार से छेड़ेगा, जल जाओगे जब वह उसकी जुल्फों के साथ खेलेगा ,
उसके बाद खुद को ढूँढना पड़ेगा
हर रात रोओगे हर सुबह हंँसना पड़ेगा!!

Saurav Raj

Finally, Mrs. Saha’s longing to be with her husband during their 25th anniversary was about to come true. She would return from Denmark on Friday and their anniversary fell on Sunday. She wished to take Mr. Saha by surprise on the eve of their anniversary. He was informed beforehand about her imminent arrival. The date was not revealed.
On the specified date, Mrs. Saha’s plane landed sharp at 3.45 pm at IGI airport. After collecting her luggage and hiring an Uber, she made a beeline towards her destination in stark anticipation. Her heart was throbbing with sheer impatience. As the car neared her home, she texted her husband, “Come out of the balcony, right now”, only to baffle him. Minutes later, she was at the threshold of her house and a completely peculiar sight confronted her. Her husband was loading some suitcases into the car. Unable to comprehend the situation, she hurriedly went forward and approaching him asked in astonished tone, “Where are you going at this hour?” He replied without looking up, “I have to go on an urgent project to London for two months. I was informed only yesterday about it. Did not have the time to inform you. Extremely sorry. But you indeed gave me a pleasant surprise, eh.” As soon as he finished his sentence, he gave slight grin, climbed into the car and drove away towards airport.

Mrs. Saha stood gazing at the departing car, utterly confounded, not knowing what to think or do.

Sougato Basu

कट रहे पल जिंदगी में ,
भेंट उनसे हो गई !
नेत्र से लोचन मिले जब,
चार आँखें हो गई !
यौवना के मध्य में ही,
प्रणय कहानी हो गई !
इन सभी के साथ जिंदगी,
ज्यादा सुहानी हो गई !
पर नयन कर कैद पलकें,
निज विरोधी हो गई !
बात जो आगे बढ़ी फिर ,
कुछ हँसेगे सुन यहाँ !
दिल जलाना था अलग,
पर भूलकर भी खा गयी !
हितैषी मेरे प्रिय मेरे,
लेख पढ़ हृदय नहीं !
बात जो है अब लिखी,
बरसों पुरानी हो गई ।।

Amit Prakash

Words are only forced

If you let them be

Ask a ruminative soul

Who measures out words on a scale

Not a syllable more

Not a syllable less

He’ll say words are a currency

Best used carefully

But if you stifle your own words

Do not bank on strangers or lovers

To fill this void you dug for yourself

Do not ask for coffee and conversations ☕

When you choked down the

Syllables you once wanted

To say out loud.

The art of not making conversation is a tricky one

A fine balance between comfortable silence and unsaid words.

Pragnya Paramita

1) Of October, Heartbreak and Homecoming/ Homemaking :

I do not know my way around of it because last time I tried to write to you, you made me
understand that you don’t understand me anymore, so here is the blanket warning: This is not
the poem you think I intended to write to you. Which is to say that you do not love me anymore
and we’ve suddenly started speaking in a foreign language , Which is to say that may be we
were using the wrong diction ever since , Which is to say that we are as flawed as humanity is
meant to be , So believe me when I say that I don’t hate you anymore. Last September was
the season of love;
of showers and winds,
And I know you love the showers ,
And I know you love the winds ,
And I know I loved the three of you, so perfect. This September was about the delayed
monsoon dispersal,
and of the impending fall. The rains stayed for long and the sky stayed so brown,it almost felt
like home. There is this weird thing about constructing new norms of normalcy.
The change is like the unwanted guests we welcome to the guest room, serve them all the tea
and sugar to keep them happy until the time comes when they overstay and we learn to live with
them now.
We call them home.
Until they leave again. Last October was walking over the leaves dropped off the garden,
And staring at the sky so blue it almost felt like the sea.
And we walking over the sandcastles and our footprints all consumed in the waves,
To the extent that we felt safe. This October meant all the leaves lost in the sea and the
guests leaving the guest room all broken,

So here I am repairing the fall. Fall is my favourite season. Fall WAS my favourite
season. Okay may be fall is my favourite season. Can you, please, come back? And may be
we can walk by the sea, again? And feel safe, again? And love, again! Safety and love—
It almost feels like, that we love because its a safe space and its a safe space because we’re
loved. I would say yes,because that’s what we were intended to,
Create homes in an unknown territory of an unknown world. I would say no,because may be
home isn’t home enough,
Or home isn’t home but an overstatement. Cause when love went away,
It felt like the sea was imprinting all the footprints back onto the beach,
Raw and ready to be touched.
When love went away the same September or October,
The sea or the sky went away like the unwanted guests. So the next time I ask you to come
back,
please don’t.
The idea of homecoming is fascinating I know, but don’t. Its November already and I’ve started
to live here now,
Constructing mud houses by the beach so it hurts a little less.
With each crashing wave it haunts a little less,
of the efforts that go lost into making full fledged homes. Funny because,I was never afraid of
new constructions. Strange because,I always thought I was very welcoming as a person. Yet
comforting,because less visits to the sea and less parallels between the sky. But sad
because,October doesn’t feel October anymore.
I miss October, the fall, the bringing it all together;
And starting to walk again. And may be that is the only thing I miss and I don’t miss you.
And may be all I ever loved were the seasons;
And you just happened to coexist with them.

Divyanshu Ratti

2)विषय : 80 के दशक के गाने

जिंदगी को सुर देने वाले
वो 80 के दशक के गाने
दिल का हाल रुबरु कराने वाले
वो 80 के दशक के फ़साने |

आज भी दोहराए जाते है
अक्सर गुनगुनाये जाते है
वो जिंदगी को लुभाने वाले
80 के दशक के गाने

जिंदगी थमती नहीं, यू गुज़रती नहीं
उन ज़ख्मों से दिल टूट जाता है
पर आते- जाते, हस्ते – गाते
इस जिंदगी का सफर यूँही निकल जाता है |

देखा एक ख्वाब
वो अक्सर नींद में आता है
नीले नीले अम्बर पर
जब वो सुकून छा जाता है |

और इस दिल में
वो खयाल आता है
की जिंदगी का सफर नहीं थमता
पर रास्ता अक्सर बदल जाता है |

उस साहिल में सुकून की तलाश है
वो शाम में भरपुर खुमार है
ऐ जिंदगी गले लगा ले
बस दिल से निकलती यही आवाज है |

मंजिले दरिया पार है
वो जिंदगी हर कदम
नहीं है फूलों से भरी
उन रास्तों में कांटों के भी दर्द का एहसास है |

वो यारी का भी अपना काफिराना है
तेरे जैसा यार कहाँ
इन्हीं गीतों को दिल में लिए दोस्ती को निभाना है |

तुझसे नाराज नहीं जिंदगी
कहता ये मन है
हर पल को इस अंदाज में जियो
की रास्ता खुशी से गुज़र जाये |

आज वो मौसम मस्ताना है
तभी फिर उन 80 के दशक के गानों को दोहराना है
बतलाते पूरी जिंदगी की दास्तां
इ न गानों का अपना फ़साना है |

वो दौर फिर वापिस नहीं आ सकता
पर वो एहसास कभी नहीं जा सकता
ये कहाँ आ गए हम
कह कर कोई समय में वापस नहीं जा सकता |

अदिति नागपाल

3)EUREKA

There’s a legend in science,

Which says that the force that doesn’t let you drown in waters,

Is equal to the same force, that drowns you–You.

Like ‘Eureka’ was a cry for help,

Bcause progress is, too.

Newton couldn’t eat an apple.

He, instead, rambled upon forces that held it to the ground 

Each of these forces have harboured the coffins of everyone we’ve loved.

These dug graves, should be a void to venture,

An oblivion of the doomed-a vacuum of the flesh.

There’s an unrivaled force in my heart, too,

A graveyard of sorts,

With tombstones outlining poetry,

I made out of her-

The ones she’ll never read.

Newton still says that every morning I get up,

It’s not my cowardice to die that makes me 

But my inherent will to live-

A natural cycle of sorts,

Where we create and procreate,

And murder and kill,

But don’t let die.

But, aren’t these legends?

“No, it’s science.”

Yet, it doesn’t talk about the gaping hole in my chest,

Like the black hole, they photographed recently.

It doesn’t talk about violence,

That when my father raised his hand,

Was it the same force,

That shook it to on my cheek?

Or, is it a mock play,

Where gravity and I are rivals,

And, somehow, that bastard Newton always wins.

Because, while it holds everyone,

Pulling them to it’s centre,

I’m a ghosted vacuous stack of flesh.

I study psychology, and somehow,

The human psyche is nothing but a ball of pain.

Jung tells me that there’s pain beyond the one I feel,

The one’s I’m not aware of,

As if she’s left me so many times,

That it doesn’t hurt, 

until I realise she’s left me so many times.

Horney tells me to keep the glass half full,

But I want to break it on the face of the man,

Who raped my sister.

Maslow told me that I have needs-

And that there’s an inherent tendency in me to try to achieve them.

Like, all my misery wasn’t a mansion made up of all the things I need,

But don’t want;

So, I fucking have a pyramid explaining what every human wants,

While claiming that the human psyche is objective, dynamic.

No, they’re wrong.

We’re an outdated, stagnant organismic race,

Bathing naked in misery,

It’s time an apocalypse washes us,

Once and for all.

Vanshita Singh

4) हमेशा

ट्रेन के झटके ने आंखें खोली ही थी ,कि एक बूढ़ी शख्सियत सामने खड़ी थी। आंखें धुंधली और चेहरा झुर्रियों से सना हुआ , बैग पर उनका नाम है शायद,और हाथों में टिफिन, जो उनकी पत्नी ने उनके लिए बनाया होगा।

“बेटा कोई बैठा तो नहीं है यहांँ ?”

” नहीं अंकल” मैंने बोला !

फिर मुस्कुराने लगे और बैठ गए। फोन निकालते हैं और थोड़ी देर बाद यूँ ही बस यूट्यूब स्क्रोल करने लगे। मैंने एयरप्लस निकाल दिए और पूछा उनसे कहां जा रहे हैं? उत्तर बाद में पहले बिस्किट का पैकेट आगे करने लगे , “खाले मेरे पुत्तर,मैं जहर नहीं पाई ” हंसकर कहने लगे।

कुछ स्टेशन बाद मैने उन्हें अलविदा कहा और ट्रेन बदल ली।अब लगभग मैं उनकी और वह मेरी सारी कहानियां जानते थे।

बचपन में मां-बाबा ने समझाया था, किसी अनजाने से बात और कुछ लेकर कभी मत खाना, मेरे बुद्धू और मासूम दिमाग में बड़ी मुश्किल से बैठाया था। पर छूट गया ना सब एक ही छड़ में क्या फायदा ? सारी बातें छूट गई, सारे उसूल टूट गए, क्या मायने रखती हैं यह बातें? और क्या मायने रखते हैं यह मायने ?

नहीं जानती मैं !

पर जब सब क्षणिक है , तो किस हमेशा की खोज में हैं हम ?

ऐसा कौन सा फॉरएवर है जिसके लिए प्रेजेंट भूल जाते हैं हम ?

Cheena Sharma

Harrasment and it’s lexicon

Sexual harrassment, forms of sexual misconduct are coming to the forefront, thanks to the Feminist Movement that has given a space for women to come out and make their voice heard.

In this regard, the coinage of the term “eve-teasing” is notable. Since centuries, men have claimed ownership over women’s bodies and regarded them as their property, this term mellows down sexual harassment and speaks of it as merely teasing which is not only grossly inappropriate but even goes on to further neutralise the trauma, lived experiences and ordeals faced by women.This and several other several other terms act as hands of Patriarchy everyday to stifle women and often leading to victims. Terms like “she asked for it”, “she was desperate” as an excuse to sexually violate someone is a gross plundering of the idea of consent.

Although sexual harrassment is gender-neutral and affects both “males assigned at birth” and “females assigned at birth”, it is notable that women have a greater propensity to be sexually harassed.

The concept of consent entails the ability to say “no” at any given point of time during any sexual act. It might be a verbal “no” or can be made clear with signs and the general disinterest of the victim to say “yes” because of external circumstances but that still remains sexual harassment. If the other partner doesn’t stop even after one of them withdraws consent, then it comes under the ambit of sexual harassment.

Both the sexes face harassment under the superstructure of Patriarchy, added to that femininity is looked down upon and considered as inferior. It is to be noted that effeminacy in men is scorned and effeminate men are called “sissies”, accompanying which comes sexual harassment in most cases. The entrenched misogyny is such that it feels uneasy when someone breaks the code of conduct prescribed by patriarchy more so when men ( read born superior by patriarchal standards) behave like women ( read born inferior by patriarchal standards). This is unsettling for Patriarchy for it poses questions on inequality and suggests the performative nature of gender. Also questions on the manliness of a man restrains him to report any sexual assault, also in most cases even after complain his plea for justice is ignored.

Patriarchy has always viewed women as it’s commodity; notions like the honour of the family being dependent on its women reinstate and legitimise rape as a women to dishonour the adversary family. Conversations around sexual harassment are still taboos in the present state as they would bring shame to the family.

On the contrary, women are questioned about their clothes, time and place they were in. Victim blaming leads to further trauma for the survivors. The harassers remain unpunished.

 It needs to be kept in mind that sexual harassment is never because of sexual attraction; it’s always to subdue and use force. The element of force and compulsion that materializes through unequal power dynamics leading to an obscene entitlement vis-a-vis deriving pleasure out of subduing the other person by coercion or persuasion.

The cultural markers and symbols play a big part in furthering and propagating these vices by the normalisation of usage of sexist, homophobic and misogynistiic vocabularies; the shameless display of male chauvinism through crass language, slurs and physical hypermasculinity expressed through displayed of violence vis-a-vis manifestation of anger;  and gross plundering of consent through popular item songs where women are dehumanised and compared to “tandoori murgi” suggesting the only value of women is in their meat. Such vile usage of language has seen an alarming increase in its usage in the status quo that leaves us worried. This needs to be checked for the protection of women so they can seek to enjoy an equal status.

Also its high time for women to take such matters in their own hands and instead of helplessly crying or waiting for someone to come and rescue them, they shouldn’t be afraid to raise their voices against the wrong and fight for what is just, fight against oppression they are subjected to.

So women tie yourself Rakhi this year and be your own hero.

~ Samik Chakraborty and Verbi P. Bhagabati

Theme: Tea/Coffee 

Two undeniable invitations:

one scents nirvana & feels smoky hot ;

latter slurped slow & reverent;

both whisper ,’rendezvous soon!’

Reviving my implicitly marred senses;

I brew my shrewdness to answer:

“Is it Ms.Cup&Saucer’s teagasm or Ms.Muggie’s coffeegasm I crave for?!”

~ Anandini (BA Programme 2nd year)

मोम के जैसी कोमल थी वह लड़की ,
मैं था पत्थर दिल जो इश्क के प्रहार से बिखर गया ।
बहुत ही शांत स्वभाव की थी वह लड़की ,
मेरे सीने में था एक तुफान जो इश्क के सामने ठहर गया ।
हिम कण के समान शीतल थी वह लड़की ,
मैं था आग का गोला जिसे इश्क का समंदर निगल गया ।
लेकिन ये दिल की बात थी, दिल का किसको पता चला,
बहुत अलग थे हम दोनों फिर भी एक दूजे से इश्क हो गया ।
एक बार जब आंख मिली, दिल को फिर कहीं चैन नहीं,
एक दूजे का दिल एक दूजे के दिल पर आ गया ।
वक्त बिता , प्यार बढ़ा , विश्वास बढ़ा,
कुछ कदम वो आगे आई , कुछ कदम मैं उसके साथ चला ।
लेकिन तभी वक्त बदला, सब बदल गए ,
हम एक हुए , फिर बिछड़ गए ।
वक्त चला गया , सब चले गए ,
मैं ठहर गया ,हम ठहर गए ।
वो टूट गई , मैं बिखर गया ।
वो पिघल गई , मैं हार गया ।
वो शांत हुई , मैं मौन रहा ।
वो चली गई , मैं रूका रहा ।
वो शाम गुजर गई ,पर वक्त वहीं पर खड़ा रहा ।
काफी बातें हुई , काफी बातें बाकी रह गई ,
अलग हुए हम दोनों , सिर्फ तन्हाइयां बाकी रह गई ।
जब एक ही मंजिल की तलाश में चलने वाले ,
दो सच्चे प्रेमीयो के रास्ते बंट गए ।
तब लेकर दिल में एक दूजे की तस्वीर ,
हम अपने अपने पथ पर आगे बढ़ गए ।
साथ छुट गया , विश्वास टूट गया ,
और हम दोनों ही तन्हा हो गए ।
लेकिन हम दोनों में कोई बेवफा न था
कुछ उसकी मजबूरियां थी , कुछ हम मजबूर हो गए ।
बस कुछ ” सभ्य समाज के सरपंचों ” को हमारा प्यार मंजूर न था ,
बाकी हमारे प्यार का कोई कसूर न था ।
बस हम दोनों समाज के कुछ “जरुरी पाखंडों ” में बंध गए  ,
और हमारा प्यार मर कर भी अमर हो गया ।।

~  Vishal Yadav