Loneliness (by Nishtha Ghosh)

No one wants it, yet it comes by

One may be

In the midst of activities, yet it comes by.

In the midst of laughter, yet it comes by.

In the midst of sharing, yet it comes by.

In the midst of people, yet it comes by.

One may be

in the midst of nothing when loneliness

comes by.

God made man alone,

Circumstances made suffering alone,

Friends made enemies alone,

Life made death alone,

Love made haterate alone,

Nature made artificiality alone,

Yet what made loneliness so very alone.

It sees no time, when it comes by

It needs no presentation, when it comes by

It needs no location, when it comes by

It needs no announcement when it comes by

It needs no emotion when it comes by

It needs no action when it comes by

No doubt ones feel so empty,

When loneliness comes by.

Something between you and me (by Kshitij Doval)

The poem is about a man who tried to stay as far away from love as possible after a brutal heartbreak, until he met the girl of his life who made him rediscover love.

I am a free bird and I do not want to cage myself,

Living free is my motto,

Like variety of foods in my delph,

Cannot settle for one delicious tomato.

         

There are sporadic times when my torn heart needs a knit,

Feelings storm inside me in the form of gust,

But I decide to forcefully walk out of it,

Satisfy my needs with the help of lust.                                                                                                         

_

But then you step into my life,

There is a cacophony of deafening alarm bells,

Chivalry in me not quite rife,

I am rolling in the deep as said in a song of Adele’s.

         

You hold me and look at me with those innocent eyes,

An incessant smile I see,

Something that we cannot avoid are goodbyes,

Yet we plant a seed which we can never see growing into a tree.

             

I do not see a future but a definite growing bond,

A bond that nobody would understand,

We never separate, those are just ripples in the pond,

By your side throughout, holding your hand.

                 

Life is too short and experiencing you is a must,

Won’t avoid you because of a criticising society,

We establish this everlasting bond of trust,

You will always remain my first priority.

– Kshitij Doval

She (by Shivam Bahuguna)

The poem is my perceived narrative of what all women have to face. There are various rules and notions they are supposed to conform to. Sometimes it is a nagging persuasion to conform, sometimes it is blatant oppression. It is my lyrical effort to capture the essence of the varying struggles faced by the women of our nation, with the refrain being a curious question – what really makes a woman.

Written and performed for an open mic session at KMC.

SHE

Woman. Girl. Lady.

So many opinions

So many dictats

It makes me wonder

What makes a she?

She, who must adjust her scarf

Lest the piercing gaze

Makes her feel corroding away.

She,who can avail her worth

If she bears children

And has a pretty face.

She, who must bear the brunt

Of paying her husband

A dowry, yet be a slave.

She, who dares walk a mile

A book in her hand

While bullets fly her way.

Oh tell me. Someone please tell me.

This mysterious, resolute being of power.

What makes her so strong?

What makes a she?

Must she have long smooth hair

The Garnier-approved trait of femininity?

Must she have short, streaked hair to pander

The notions of manic pixie girl of dreams?

Is it vital that she performs pooja

Like a good girl everyday?

Does she have to carry a shy persona

Or be a damsel rescued by a brave?

I wonder what she thinks

When the netas in their palaces

Turn her body into a religious battleground.

I wonder what she thinks

When another little girl goes missing

Never, ever again to be found.

Will she be caged perennially

In an imposing base dichotomy

Of being an angel that can do no wrong

Or an immoral succubus that knows no bound?

Pedestals of praise and worship

Pits of lust and scorn

I wonder when they’ll let her be

A human, standing her ground.

Her being is often surrounded by chains

Chains that expect her to carry them

Chains that whisper sly promises of protection

Chains that seize her, violating her realm.

Yet she defies all. Someone please tell me

This mysterious, resolute being of power

What makes her so strong?

What makes a she?

Of Minotaur and Medusa – A Poem (by Shivam Bahuguna)

As a matter of personal principle, I hate presumptions, and this one is an attempt to be as free from presumptions as possible. There have been a great influx of happenings that I faced in my life where I got to know (and to un-know) people. This poem is a vent to emotions in this tide of events. A small tale of two monsters.

As long as I had known her truly

She would often remind me

Fiercely, righteously, vociferously

That I was a man, and hence

Capable of dealing damage,

To rape, to maim, to violate.

I would look at my hands

And I wonder if that Minotaur

Drunk with aggravated machismo

Really lurked in the labyrinth

Of my consciousness.

She had her own creation

I often met and sparred with

In the hour of a conflict

Or yet another recurring mistake,

Her meticulously built wall

Gilded with surgical silence.

Silence that hung, ruthlessly

Like moist air in a windless night

Begging the question

Blurring the line, between

Companionship and frozen spite.

And I wondered once again

This time, in confusion

Whether the Minotaur of rage

Could ever sting more harshly

Than the Medusa of silence.

Hush (by Himanshu Tiwari)

Each night when I hit the bed

There are a thousand voices inside my head

And of all those thousand two are most daunting

Trying to stop them and cover my ears

I remember I heard them in dreams of my fears

Sprung from the tears of all sorrows not of my wanting

Sleep, my son, it is time

Thoughts, my babe, are your crime

Inebriated, as I stagger slowly

She appears like an angel unholy

Smiling softly, stabs me and I don’t even bleed

‘Mr. Sub’ perverts my love

Then slaps me saying, “Better grow up!”

Confusions breeding in my heart are his feed

Sleep, it’s not yet your time of dying

“But, of course, it’s nobody’s fault but mine!”

‘Con’ -he is no gentleman

Bashes my insides without refrain

Though he breaks me, I can bear him better

Not yin and yang, but not unlike

Taking turns to shout into the mike

Their cacophony rings in my ears and I suffer

The pool, of sanity, it is drying

Unwept tears, then I’ll be crying

Highway Hitchhiker (by Himanshu Tiwari)

On a dull, yellow afternoon

By the signpost I sit marooned

Hot winds and cool, cool sweat

Ad-boards you’d rather forget

In their shade I smoke and wait

“Where to now?” trying to contemplate

It’s burning ‘neath the midday sun

Highway Hitchhiker on the run

Family vans, me past they drive

Don’t fancy, backseat biking rides

Lone wolf, rolls his window down

“Care a ride, I’m going to town!”

Blue Impala of 60’s make

“Went through trouble,for baby’s sake!”

Say what; this just might be fun

Highway Hitchhiker on the run

“Boy trouble, if you know what I mean!”

“She’s fine, nah finest I seen!”

“Sweet ride!” thought I in my head

And it haven’t even been paid

Lit a smoke with a sly grin

Thieving from a thief ain’t no sin

And so a highwayman I become

Highway Hitchhiker on the run

Radio plays favourite Kansas song

“Carry on,” we sing along

Poor bastard humming unaware

Drew my Colt out mumbling a prayer

“Stop and step out of the car!”

“You can flee but you won’t get far!”

Robbed the dumb fuck with ‘n empty gun

Highway Hitchhiker on the run

The Dawn of Revolution

Enough of criticising, its time. Lets get started and transform the mentality and image that people have about our Indian Culture and decimate their doubts about our creativity and originality. Contribute your ideas of any form:- articles, poems, short stories, song lyrics, novels etc of any language and any genre; and expect all the members of CRWI to motivate you ,criticise you and give you all the monetary and promotional support for your work.

CRWI is a big community which will help the creative minds get the right amount of respect they deserve. Be a part of CRWI and transform the mindset that the world has about India. Take an oath to not criticise, rather DO something in order to bring the right kind of change by joining CRWI.

Let us all work together to show the world that we, the youth are capable of much more than what is expected out of us. Yes we socialise, yes we party, yes we are liberal; but do not underestimate us of not being productive. Look at us bring the dawn of revolution.

Kshitij Doval

(Organisational Head)