Ink Drift - December

REAL LIFE STORIES/POETRY

Issue - 5

DECEMBER 2016

WWW.INKDRIFT.COM

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REAL LIFE STORIES Volume 1 | Issue 5 | December

CONTENTS REFLECTIONS...........................................PAGE 1

PEOPLE OF COLOR.................................PAGE 32

STOP PLAYING START LOVING...............PAGE 2

CYANIDE AND UNHAPPINESS...............PAGE 33

TO RISE....................................................PAGE 3

O MOTHER!............................................PAGE 34

GARDEN OF LOVE.....................................PAGE 4

MISTAKEN.............................................PAGE 35

MY SIDE OF THE STORY..........................PAGE 5

TONIGHT, I WILL WRITE........................PAGE 38

THE STONE...............................................PAGE 6

TODAY I SAW LOVE...............................PAGE 39

BUT FOR HOW LONG?.............................PAGE 7

INSECURITIES.......................................PAGE 40

HAVE YOU EVER?.................................... PAGE 8

CINDERELLA'S NIGHTS.........................PAGE 41

THE URBAN DREAM.................................PAGE 9

SEPARATION.........................................PAGE 42

AND WHEN THE BUBBLE BURSTS..........PAGE 10

THE SILENT RIOT..................................PAGE 43

THE PHOTOGRAPH..................................PAGE 12

TO BE FREE OR MAYBE NOT TO BE......PAGE 44

BELIEVE ME.............................................PAGE 13 RED CURTAIN..........................................PAGE 14 HEARTBREAK..........................................PAGE 15 INVESTED I AM.......................................PAGE 16 A MAIL FROM HER BEST FRIEND...........PAGE 17 BEING IN LOVE.......................................PAGE 22 CHOICES.................................................PAGE 23

TEAM INK

THE FORMIDABLE CHANGE.....................PAGE 24

Editor in Chief: Karuna Shah Content Analyst: Amy Johnston Communications: Annabelle Carrera Associate Editors: Aparajita Singh and Nidhi Panchal

HER AGE TRAVELED TO ME.....................PAGE 25 THE SILHOUETTE....................................PAGE 26 ONCE YOU DARE YOU LOVE...................PAGE 27 FILLING UP THE SPACES.......................PAGE 28 IF THIS WAS THE LESSION I LEARNT IT.PAGE 31

Ink Drift Publications www.inkdrift.com Email: inkdriftmag@gmail.com

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REAL LIFE STORIES Volume 1 | Issue 5 | December

PREFACE

Each one of us is a traveler with a thousand of stories buried in our hearts.

Ink Drift is an attempt to bring those stories out, in the form of literature.

www.inkdrift.com

BY NEHA SRIVASTAVA

What was it that made me sad ?

After all , what happened was inevitable the outburst was coming But , it wasn ’ t just an outburst it was a volcano erupting What happened , was it right ? ” Is a question I asked myself “

A part of me nodded vigorously another part sat muddled “ Nay ! ” said firmly another part and took me by surprise Was I really wrong ? ” Nay - saying ’ s an easy thing !

I pondered though and realized , ‘ twas a friendship I broke “

PAGE NO. 1

SNOITCELFER

My eyes were all misty Pearls cascaded my face I was certainly sad about something And was trying to trace

But , ‘ I ’ – a single entity ‘ Friendship ’ – mutual concord Never a one - man game this And force never maintained bliss And when it turns a burden or so if it seems What is the better option ?

Is what my mind still wonders and my heart cannot answer .

BY BIPUL BANERJEE

GNIVOL TRATS

GNIYALP POTS

I could see the invisible wall growing between us , Mentioning softly then yelling not at all a fuss , It is growing , it is growing ! ! !

You kept on ignoring the same , As if nothing was happening all excuses lame .

Slowly it moved engulfing our emotions , Suffocated I stood immobile unable to tune to newer jingles , The only sound I could hear was your giggle when you watched me choke for breath !

You wrapped me with wounds to ensure that I never recover or inhale , They bled and oozing out of to the lost drop of visible ,

Decaying for want of relief .

With my wounds I had learned to live and soothe myself to a possible heal , Suddenly years later your mood changed again and you unchained my love ! !

Now with the bruised passions and hurt emotions , you want me to glow again ! !

You say that you have healed me to perfection and now its my job to get going again ! !

Be ready to take up the challenges flung by you , Put up a brave face and smile .

You think that you can play with me at will , Wind me up and put in a closet , undo and reuse for thrill !

Am I so weak that I let you play with me as such ?

Or I am still in love with you to ' allow ' you to treat me as a toy ? ?

Someday you will realize this , so stop ' playing ' and start loving PAG E N O. . 2

BY VATSAL SHARMA

for my spirit dances with me , and I wish you love my memory .

ESIR OT

But , to walk the path that , takes you back , to the horrors of shadows , and the sinking of hope : I shall not compromise .

Yes , I will , oh yes , I will , rise like a distant memory , for the souls that no one knows , and the rules that no one broke : I shall dance without improvising .

Oh , to rise , within the ashes of your own conscience , to look for your own bleeding self , in the sacred fading world , and your stars that never shun .

Oh yes , now I am free , and I wish to see , everything you haven ' t seen , PAGE NO. 3

Oh , will you join me , my friend ?

To the creating of the sea , sea of thoughts , a sea of the free , where our eyes shall always meet : and you are what you want to be .

BY JAYASHREE TIRUMALARAO

As through life we glide enchanting is the journey sweet is the companion strong is the bond it ' s like old wine getting better each day .

As through life we glide trifles arise amidst the hues trust and love

keeps life intact journey we move despite small differences .

As through life we glide weeds of you and I are swept away it ' s only the fragrant blossom two souls immersed in the garden of love .

GARDEN OF LOVE

PAGE NO. 4

BY ONISHA MURAB

Hold me captive In your little fort of hate Keep me alive In your burning rage Burn my soul in Your self - made hell Blame me for all the reasons That made you fell Kill me in your heart Remove me from your past Hold me in your delirium Help me exist in your future Forget me in your dreams Remember me in your screams Let me flow in your tears Use me to let go of your fears Forgive me in your lies Hate me in truth

Let me thaw in your cries Watch me grow as time flies Hide me in your darkness Run from me in light Call me heartless But in your arms hold me tight Let my memories exist In your make believe betrayal Now pull that barrel Go , take your revenge Leave me to rot in your bygone Move on with all your will Then choose your next prey And get ready for the kill Don ' t ask me now if you were Sent with your amount of pain reserved Because darling , what happened to the Love that I deserved ?

MY SIDE OF THE STORY

PAGE NO. 5

BY PRANAM ABBI

THE STONE I don ' t see it coming , I feel it coming When they shut the windows , I hear the voices coming Even when the room is padded with egg stacks , I can hear them speaking Medicated , educated but , insanity creeps in within Humiliation , understanding relations Society never realizes your position , the mental installations Difference reveals the wisdom , between Courage and cowardly , love and hate Empathy and pity , narcissism and self love " He walks around at dawn , around the city walls wondering who to describe his mental status . After knowing his illness and disease , he still lit the spliff around the corner from his house . He walks around in peace , before his first drag .

There is a pause between the last drag and throwing away the spliff .

This pause is insignificant to him , but he does not realize this changes everything for him , "

For his starting of the day is purely based on delusions pacing in his mind . " The morning had not come , without this stone Delusions have come a long way , embedded in my stone A Digger falls in my sight , but , ignored her high The high that tingled me , through my body She was so beautiful , and my wallet was empty Delusional but , not stupid Quarantine my mind , masks and timberlands That ' s what I need , that ' s what she asked for me Is it alright , I take my stone with me She says , ' your high , my life , it is all gone ' Realization bulldozer breaks my stone Converts it into a tombstone , ready to be place at the gates With white flags of surrender , and notions of recovery " PAGE NO. 6

RENGANATHAN

SHREYASS

BY

?GNOL WOH ROF TUB

Built a house of blue sky and dreams .

It burned and burned until there was no more to burn on .

Amidst the smoldering wood , I sang silently .

Raised a tower of gray stone and strong will .

The ocean rose and consumed all .

PAGE NO. 7

Amidst the sinking ruins , I choked but went on .

Hewed a fortress of black Mountain and misery .

The very rock trembled even as the ground shook and split .

Rasping and sore , I word out my song .

But , as the end nears , for how long ?

BHARTI

MONA

BY

?REVE UOY EVAH

This is just one of my midnight creation .

Have you ever felt the moon stays up at night to make sure you ' re not away from its sight , Have you ever felt the silence of night , sleeping under stars

shinning so bright , Have you ever felt the calmness of winds blowing without any stress , Have you ever felt the touch of rains falling down from heaven .

PAGE NO. 8

BY RITI KUMAR

THE URBAN DREAM I see lights shimmering in the distance , out in the distance , through my window ; beckoning me to the city - the city lights .

A person identifies itself with the crowd .

The crowd moves so she breathes . He aspires , but the crowd would not go that way . Not the ' it ' thing yet , is it ?

The winking headlights on the road , when Things would change when the little girl I get out , shoves me to the side . There are grows up , lest the crowd would suck her so many cars , so many houses , even more up too . people and much more dirt .

So many people , but those are different .

Filth mixes with filth , sweat mixes with They have more / less money . She has got sweat . Municipality stink mingles with less time to care . I am a city person . For Gucci , good mixed with bad . Can you ever the city has made me grow , tell ?

Or it has grown upon me . And how does it Parents kill , children disobey and a young matter as long as you are alive ? But who couple stealthily takes the bedroom will weep for you when you die ? You fight spotlight away . your own battles and everything is paid Soul mixes with soul , flesh beneath flesh ; for . but people have their suspicions . It wouldn ' t last . And what would - the I still live to see those shimmering lights cement road , a school , old institutions , in the distance - beckoning me to the city older - men - wisdom , television , - the city lights . government , democracy , marriages , religion , god ?

PAGE NO. 9

AND WHEN THE BUBBLE BURSTS

BY CHHABI KALA

I was living each of my laughter ’ s . . I never feared life , and may be a sudden jerk was enough to bring me down the inertia of life also in seconds . . I was proud of everything I had and maybe I had closed my eyes , to live my dream bubble , where one thing was out of sight and that was troubles . I was not sure about my future being bright because I was too fondly living my sunny and gleeful present .

I had always heard that life can flip its pages in seconds to land us up to chapters which change the entire meaning of life . A little pampered me who always smiled in my days of fears or even in tears . . one day it had to happen I had to grow - up to understand if I close my eyes for the world to see me it ' s actuality , I close my eyes to not see the world but the world is seeing me and life is mocking at me which was may be preparing me for an awaking which will take away my sleep may be for life I am scared , I am scared of what would happen in the future , I am scared of sleeping , I am scared of waking up and knowing that I have got nothing ahead of me , I am scared of being scared . I am scared of not being able to tell people that I am burning inside and the ashes are reminding me of each lived scar . I was not even prepared to be broken to be shattered when I was asked to walk on the broken glass of my heart barefoot . Whom should I cry for and whom should I cry on when everywhere I could see eyes which were searching for acceptance for an hope a hope not to recover but for at least to breathe . . I shouted Maa . . I hugged her hard for her to look me back with a coldness which embraced my numb heart . . I turned back to my little brother who suddenly was forced to act big . . I saw it in his eyes which were shrieking whaling for a support to just help him stand . . I then felt someone touch my trembling feet it was a baby whose eyes were searching for a reason for what was happening . . I took him in my arms to look up at my elder sister who was now a mother and had all those fears coming her way which as a mother she could sway . . all walls were burning as coal but this heart was still cold .

PAGE NO. 10

In all the blacks I was waiting for a little white and it came to me in form of my those friends who had no blood relations with me but had a relation of shared laughter ’ s , shared togetherness , shared food and now may be a relation which was assuring that this heart just doesn ’ t pump blood but also emotions . .

I had all of them in front of me but all I could see mist a mist which had the intensity to draw me away from every emotion to a room full of hollowness . . from maybe a 18 years old normal girl who loved to dress her up I suddenly had turned into a wrinkled lady who had just dressed herself in a rigid color of shallowness . . loneliness . . I could hear my heart beat . . but maybe my existence was now a mere cheat … against every of my bursting nerves and those swollen eyes I had one guy whose heart had a reason to beat and that was me . . I tried to look into his eyes and search a smiling me but all what it ended to I saw a dead me . . I was still living yes I was all those temptations all those aspirations all those achievements but what I did not have was that one person who believed in my achievements a lot before I even started living them and then when I stood there . . on the stage and saw people clap take my snaps I was smiling to turn back to that one tear that papa ! who could not give up on whistling for half an hour when I was on the stage is today showering his blessings from up above the world . . yes ! he kissed a final goodbye to this earth leaving us back with just one question why ? . . he still comes to me to make me sleep but the moment I try to hold him he vanishes . . I still can hear him but he is not answering back my failing questions . . from a smile to my face from a living him he is now in photographs which are all around me but my eyes now don ’ t even have the courage to look at it . . he was the reason I started to walk . . he was the reason I stayed rooted to the ground , he was the reason I even found success in every defeat and he is the reason that I am living .

PAGE NO. 11

BY CHINTAN PATEL

THE PHOTOGRAPH It ' s safe inside back Pocket , She ' s golden tiny necklace Locket , Symbol of love was shining and reflecting back the Joy , Crinkles of her eyes , Head on my shoulder , She always Enjoys , She named the love after her lost may be She ' s living the Past , It ' s an Autumn and Spring is waiting for you to be a Typecast , But I never try to utter a word , Silence is my Thing , I ' ve crown on my shoulder , I don ' t need anything I ' m already a king , This Photograph doesn ' t make me sad , It ' s not her , it ' s about the timing , it was bad .

But this photograph says , " it feels so the - photograph - 1981safe inside your back pocket . . "

PAGE NO. 12

BY SHAMBHAVI UPADHYAY

BELI EVE ME I am yours , that ' s all I say No matter what comes and goes Believe me , when I say , I do Because this love , it ' s more than just vows Crossing the barriers of a body Carrying the fathomless depths And the inherent heights Of a shattered soul caged within Those three words have a meaning Far deeper than what they mean Realizing the truth , I now know It was your way I tread upon with a heart so keen I will stay , I promise I will But promise me so will you In every alternate universe , that exists It will just be us , making it just a table for two Thank you for being you Thank you for holding me from deep within The waves , the shore , the calm sea as it seems Will decode the volcano that still lies embedded In the core , exploding violently as an uncommitted sin .

PAGE NO. 13

BY SANIA PARWEEN

RED CURTAIN Staring on the bright , shiny , red curtain , My heart sank deep into well of thoughts .

It was all so uncertain ; In which dilemma we ' re we all caught ?

She had a different planned path , But , life dragged her to the other .

None could fill the paths ' gap , neither her tears nor her wrath ; She came up with the words of her mother . " If I were an engineer , then he would be an IITian at least , " It was a future of her past !

The present has developed an entire different gist , For her life skipped a stage , and was running so very fast .

Fingers that held pens were now beautifully enclosed in a ring ; Her red dupatta covered her head , and now and then she used to sigh ; Far beyond her eyes , there laid something , There laid an unhidden truth beneath her twinkling eyes .

Someone came between the red curtain and me , And pulled me from the well of thoughts to real .

How we plan things , and how it all comes out to be .

Life is so hazy and unclear .

PAGE NO. 14

BY ANUSHKA PANDIT

HEARTBREAK He asked me if I loved him I said no I asked him if he did He said no He said he thought I did I said I didn ' t know He asked again , " Do you love me ? " I said , " I think so " .

Time , a lot , passed away since He didn ' t make himself show I was desperate to meet Think he wasn ' t though The time we next met Got a serious blow What I then found was feelings vanished long ago There I sat , heart broken Tears in heavy flow Said all my near and dears leave him , let him go Thought to myself " Terrific , woh ! " forgetting him in a single shot Easy , will it be so ?

PAGE NO. 15

BY NANDHITHA HEMANTHKUMAR

I NVESTED I AM Invested I am far too much , Expecting something , not mine to touch ; Is it wrong to wish upon a star ?

Mustn ' t we dream big to go far ?

I feel the pressure weigh , The eyes stare , The silent laughter ring , Mocking the wishes of my heart .

I believe I can ; It ' s my birth right to try ; Taunt if you must , It is fuel to push me front .

Try I will , try I shall , For every molecule I ' m worth ; I am invested far too much , Expecting something , mine I ' ll make to touch .

PAGE NO. 16

BY TANYA AGARWAL

A MAIL FROM HER BEST FRIEND It was a summer of fire and smoke and she was going toward the administration block from the department after a long day of classes. Divya is now a final year Bachelor’s student of one of the premier Institutes of India. She was walking through the campus lost in her own world, when she was interrupted by a junior wishing her “Good afternoon Ma’am. How have you been?”

She greeted her back saying “I am fine Priti. How are you doing?”

She asked Priti to call her sometime around 9:00 at night, since she was leaving for a meeting with the departmental team, at that time. She went into the conference room; the whole team stood up to greet her and she started her presentation detailing about the events, various teams and their roles, funding required, potential sponsors and like. She was periodically appreciated for her ideas and ultimately got a standing ovation from the team. The meeting was followed by a high tea and they shook hands and bade goodbye to each other when she was greeted by Sushant, “You are amazing ma’am. I first time saw a brilliant mind in such a beautiful face and generous heart. It was really an amazing time with you here”.

She passed a smile.

“It’s okay dear! If in case you need my help, feel free to call me anytime” She went back to hostel and was scrolling gmail inbox when a mail from her friend suddenly left her delighted. It reads “Hi Divya! How have you been? I hope you remember me! I actually come across your blog and you write so well. I am left spellbound. Moreover your work profile is so amazing. How was your experience at University of California, you interned last summer? I actually wanted help in my project on nanostructures. I found you have worked quite a lot and have few papers too. Can you help me with my problems? Further if can help me push my resume through your contacts to help me grab an internship in a good research university, I would be really very thankful. I would like to personally PAGE NO. 17

meet and talk you , if you have some time please let me know . I know you are short of time but if you can just help me it would be so sweet of you , I hope I would get positively responded .

Best wishes , Udit ” She was delighted on reading this mail and couldn ’ t help but smile . She relaxed for a moment or two . She had no idea how to respond to this mail .

It left her rather confused whether to even respond or not , but somehow her fingers lost control and her response said “ Sure Udit , I am sorry , I have some commitments for this month . I will ping you as soon as I get time .

Greetings and Regards , Divya ” This mail refreshed a lot of her memories . This person is because of what all she is today .

She was in eleventh standard . She wasn ’ t pretty . She was used to people looking at her and laughing at her looks . She was from a financially less sound background and couldn ’ t afford expensive clothing . She knew what people think of her but they never bothered to talk her nor did it ever make a difference to her . She was a very ordinary average scoring student , not very good at looks , and not popular ; a simple girl who lives for herself and loved the way she was . She used to enjoy sketching and painting the world , the way she wants to see it . She used to love herself . She was her favorite , no matter what others think of her !

She wasn ’ t very interested in talking to anyone , but there used to be a guy in her class , brilliant ! He was the first rank holder of her class , excellent at math and an amazing orator . She wanted to talk him because he appeared friendly . Finally one day she went him and said “ Hey , you are excellent at mathematics . Can you teach me ? I am a good artist and you are good at science . We will make the best of friends . What say ? ” He laughed and said “ Really ! You will teach me to sketch and you want me to teach you science . Poor girl ! Have you ever looked at yourself in the mirror ? You look so horrible . Look at your clothes , they barely fit you . How could you even think that a guy like me would be a friend to a girl like you .

You are good for nothing .

PAGE NO. 18

Go find someone of your type ! ” People used to laugh at her but this kind of humiliation shattered her .

She started to hate herself , her looks and her life . She kept crying for some days . It was hard for her to come out and forget what all has been told to her right in her face . She has always avoided people . May be she was avoiding the truth , but the way it came before her that day , broke her . She cursed God for her life , for her looks , for everything bad in her life .

Suddenly , they seemed to appear so clear . She could clearly picture her negatives , all that she had avoided and ignored throughout those years : her looks , her big feet , her long front teeth and her economically less stable life .

Her first thought was to go and slap him in his face but her mother came up and consoled her saying “ Every suffering results in miracles , if you know how to use it as a weapon . Next time somebody insults you , don ’ t forget to thank that person saying , Question me and I will learn , Insult me and I will grow ” .

She couldn ’ t understand the meaning of the line at that very moment .

Her mother reminded her that she always has a choice , either to waste her anger or to use it for higher returns . That decision , however , rests on her .

She went to bed and in the silent quite corner ; she went thinking that he wasn ’ t actually wrong . He showed her the mirror and that she should appreciate him . She will have to learn to change her disadvantages into benefits and earn value from them . She decided to change .

She told her mother that she wants to join the coaching because she was weak at her subjects . She joined the Institute . She now used to get up at 6 : 00 in the morning , prepare her breakfast and leave for school . She tries to finish the school work in the school itself . After school she used to go to the coaching , just enough time to have lunch . Her coaching gets over by 7 : 00 pm when she used to get back home . As soon as she enter the house , her mother puts on the stove for tea and in no less than 10 minutes she was served hot tea . She then freshens up ; change herself in night wears and then served dinner . After having food , she go back to her room , rest for exactly an hour and then get back to work . She was used to taking tea ’ s one after the other to prevent herself falling asleep and to prevent headache troubling her . She used to sleep around 2 : 00 in the morning and then get up again at 6 : 00 for the school , that ’ s how it works for her every day now .

PAGE NO. 19

She has changed her choices and her ways of life . She now has no time for family , friends , television , movies , parties or any other fun . Her books were her world . She forgot to sketch . She stopped dancing .

Ultimately the day of the results came , the day she has been waiting since long . She was expecting hundred percent in mathematics ; She was eager and anxious to know the results . Her brother called and told her that she scored 99 in maths . Ah ! She missed it ! She went into tears . Her nights and days of labor went in vain . She switched off her phone and went to sleep . After an hour , her bhabhi came and said “ Somebody wants to talk you . ” The speaker said “ Sonu from Dainik jagran Ma ’ am ! We would like to interview you . When can we possibly come ? ” Surprised she asked “ Interview me ? Do you want to talk to Divya ? I am actually out of station for a few days for the competitive exams . Why do you want to interview me anyways ? ” He said “ Ma ’ am . You are the district topper . We are in the process of checking if you have scored highest among the neighboring districts too . ” Surprised , she said “ Really ? I have topped the district ? ” He responded “ Yes Ma ’ am and we are so delighted that we are the first to give you this wonderful news ” She said “ You can possibly ask me whatever you want on phone ” They asked her a lot of questions . They finally asked “ What ’ s your principle in life ? ” She said “ I trust in my mother ’ s words , Question me and I will learn , Insult me and I will grow ” They then requested her to interview her parents . She helped them with the address . She called her mother and informed her about the news reporters coming to interview her and that she should make sure that papa is present . Her mother ! She still remembers her tone and way she responded . Her family was so happy . A proud moment for her family ! Next day , the front page of various newspapers displayed her photo and the interview . She was on phone throughout the day of her results , repeating the same answers to different channels . It was a big moment , one of the most precious moments of her life .

PAGE NO. 20

She then attempted several exams , cracked most of them and is now a research student at one of the best Institutes of India . It has been years to this incident but it is still green in her memories . If she had not been insulted that day , she would never have seen herself at this place today .

Strings of people now revolve around her , people are curious to talk her .

They want to befriend her ; they want her time , they appreciate her beauty and are surprised at her achievements ( Once a weak mathematics student , now gold medalist in International Olympiads ) . She was now one of the most popular faces of the college , earning handsome scholarship , well dressed , prettier than before and much better at science . I wonder where she would be some years hence .

This mail was from the same person who once told her that she was fit for nothing and should make friends with poor ' s . This sudden mail from him asking her for help , after years , therefore left her delighted .

The sides have changed now . What made the difference ? Willpower .

PAGE NO. 21

BEING IN LOVE

BY MOHIT BOOLCHANDANI

In this city of joy , I was alone , Waiting for someone whom I can call my own I saw a pretty girl like I never did before , My heart went out of its place and wasn ' t mine anymore Eyes we say are a mirror of soul , And when they met I knew she is my doll She entered in my life at my lowest , Destined to meet me to make it the brightest Mundane days were full of energy , Just by thoughts of meeting her eagerly Nights were sleepless ; sleep deserted my eyes ,

I thought it ' s love and it came as a surprise Love was all around and I felt it strongly , The city of joy now treated me very pleasantly We roamed ; we shopped ; we fought ; we united , We loved ; we hated ; we thought ; we felt The differences were there but not above the love , Love means no boundary it was proven as above Destined or not to be together in future , My heart is her ' s and her ' s mine forever and ever .

PAGE NO. 22

BY AVAL SINGHAL

CHOICES What am I afraid of ?

Ghosts ? Banshee ?

They don ' t haunt me .

I am afraid of making the wrong choices For I will have to live with them Till the end of eternity .

Right decisions are seldom made And their consequences known beforehand Only when the choice has passed , that we know The other road would have led us , to far better lands .

What if I choose this ?

What if I ignore that ?

These ' What ifs ' define us PAGE NO. 23

For most of the times It ' s not the choices we make But the options we refuse to take .

But what if all choices Weigh the same As Frost said , " Both roads Have been worn down the same " Can I truly live with my choice For the rest of my life ?

And not repent it , when asked If I was right Then should I sit down , And let fate play it out ?

Or be a man And take charge ?

If I choose the former , What ' s the use of my conscience ?

If I choose the latter , Can I bear a weight this large ?

THE FORMIDABLE CHANGE

BY KARISHMA LALVANI

And here I set to sail the sea Without any idea of its extent.

Yet i'm ready to face the beast With all my vigour and all my content.

I learned to spread my wings at a very early age But never really acknowledged the effort behind it.

I always knew a day will come But i never really had to mind.

Until the day came when I had to overrule the throne I realized where my destiny was actually paved.

PAGE NO. 24

But the loss was too great to bear it alone So I whispered through my soul and got it all waived .

Only then did I realize it wasn ' t actually the position that was haunting me , It was the loss I had to go through to throttle it .

HER AGE TRAVELED TO ME BY

MAHITHA KASIREDDI

Every evening after school , I ' d spot her while entering the colony , Her pale face pressed against the window grills , Her eyes never blinked , There was nothing to read in her face .

I thought she was quite young , I was naive in judging her body .

Like everything else , Her age traveled to me , She was 33 , 33 years of enslavement , How atrocious !

I got to see her closely on a Sunday , She was being escorted to the church , Dressed at her best , There was a clear attempt , To paint a green story , For the world to see .

That was the time , I was introduced , To all things unanswerable .

The impossibility of her release .

My critical reasoning started with her , I was 12 , I was denied explanation .

I heard people talking of her , Her mysterious birth , Her homecoming , Her house arrest , Her loudest cries , Echoing till the end of the street .

I recently learned she is free , Her abuser died of cancer .

It took her death , To set her free .

To me , it is still no justice , It was very delayed after all .

PAGE NO. 25

THE SILHOUETTE

BY

PRIYANKA RICHI

Life is indeed strange . The people you meet on a beautiful morning suddenly transcend into those shady silhouettes behind the window drapes , that you dreaded to push aside every night since you were a child . Yet , you muster the courage to give a first and last try , to know and experience the ' dreaded ' . Apprehensions cloud your mind . Will I trace the ' dreaded ' or will it grab me by my neck and suffocate me to death ? After a few minutes into thoughts , you gently move aside the satin strips , every second praying to see a familiar face behind . Lo and behold , the face seems so familiar ! Or is it a bit distorted on the right end ? Never mind . You have finally seen the ineffable .

A night later , you again see the silhouette , only that the fear in you has now a bit subdued . You move aside the drapes , come what may , without much deliberation . It grabs you by your waist but you are not shocked . An umpteen number of thoughts rush through your mind . The dreaded finally embeds his marks on your body . Wait . Isn ' t the face indeed a bit distorted at the right end ? Well , maybe . But now you ' know ' the ' dreaded ' .

Two nights later when you try to free yourself from the clutches of the dreaded , you indeed notice the badly distorted right end of its face . Lo and behold , its no longer the familiar face you know . And to free yourselves now ? Wait . Did u say free ? You were free , once . Didn ' t you yourself ask for those satin strips to be moved aside ? To know , to feel the dreaded ? And a blind eye to the distortions , to the embedded marks ? Wait . Maybe your mother never taught you that those window drapes were never to be pulled aside .

PAGE NO. 26

ONCE YOU DARE YOU LOVE

BY HIRRA SULTAN

Pleased by the butterflies The surge of dopamine They forgot about life ’ s plan And signed up for a heartbreak They roamed hand in hand Heads lost in reverie But life had no change of plans Pain , regret coming through .

They fought hard to be together To reverse the fate they faced

Broken hearts bled for long As if a part cut out Far away they couldn ’ t sleep Hearts yearning for each other Their eyes wept , counting stars The gloom of a moonless night Someone trying to make sense Mentioned they had signed up Pain and heartbreak inevitable Once you dare love !

PAGE NO. 27

FILLING UP THE SPACES

BY JASMINE KAUR

When we moved into our newly renovated house , the first thing I noticed as I walked into my room was a small foot long crevice on the wall facing my bed . It had the same beautiful dark wooden panels as the rest of the furniture in my room ( which had been color coordinated for the first time in 10 years much to my OCD satisfaction ), but it served no obvious purpose . ‘ Showpiece rakhne ke liye hai ’, my Mom explained excitedly .

I gave her an indifferent shrug , displaying remnants of the petulant behavior from my teenage years . As an army of painters , masons and carpenters paraded around the house giving everything a finishing touch , I cocooned myself in my room in exasperation . My warm bed housed me for most of the week and every day I would wake up to look at the space in the wall . Wood paneled . Foot long . And purposeless so far .

Of late , I had been reading too many inspirational stories of the struggles of writers who eventually made it big ( how long is eventually anyway ), and images of them standing triumphantly with their novels and trophies in hand dominated most of my consciousness . I wanted to be them , but for now I had merely been stalking them , living vicariously off images of their lives , and practicing the acceptance speech I would be making when my ‘ eventually ’ would come . And I decided that my trophy ( for whatever it is that I would win ) is what was going to go into that space in the wall . I brooded around the house for the rest of the week , keeping my little brainwave to myself for the sheer stupidity of how it sounded when said out loud . I was about as close to getting a trophy as I was to owning a mansion ( which was dream number 2 by the way ).

PAGE NO. 28

At 20, I was permanently on edge, given to ineluctable bouts of inactivity and yet somehow convinced that one day I will do something that will give me reason to say ‘so there’ to everyone who had ever said, implied or thought that nothing would become of me. But behind this great angst that I carried around with me, was really my own fear. It wasn’t really the world pulling me down. It was myself. I wanted to do something great, but I certainly wasn’t doing it yet.

I had wanted to become a writer ever since it hit me that it was the only skill I had consistently maintained and developed through my adolescence. Like most other kids with indulgent parents I had been exposed to a lot of things by way of ‘hobby classes’. Summer vacations as a kid had been a series of drawing classes, theater workshops, oratory skills classes, dance classes, music classes et al. You would think I would be a cultural aficionado by now. But though I had enjoyed all of them, I hadn’t particularly excelled at any. The only thing I had really managed to make any decent headway in was writing (funnily the only thing for which I hadn’t been to a class/workshop). It calmed me down and made me feel purposeful. I liked what I wrote and thankfully so did a few others. I had won a couple of competitions, had got some short pieces published, wrote for a couple of blogs and had received reasonable amounts of appreciation from friends and family.

But I was starting to get hungrier. And to be ambitious is a frustrating business.

After 3 years of average success for someone my age in the field, I was afraid that I had reached a plateau. Writing on the web and for other print journals is all very well, but nothing is as gripping as the heady dream of seeing your name on the cover of a novel. I was obsessed with the idea. But I still had no manuscript to speak of. I was still incapable of creating coherent fictional plots and most of my pieces drew heavily on my personal experiences (like this one :P).

Unfortunately for me, audiences find personal accounts or short articles only mildly interesting for the most part. If you’re lucky maybe they’ll come across it on their internet feed somewhere and skim through it. If you’re luckier maybe they’ll share it. But unless you’re very lucky, your article is not going to go viral. My life is ordinary for the most part, and my observations about everyday feelings and nuances about emotions are not really the kind of thing that shakes up the world. My parents are still the only real publicists I have, and promoting my own work on social media makes me cringe every time.

But I do what I can. I apply to every competition. I must have written to the editors of half the literary journals in the country. I ask for blog space. I try. I try hard.

And I know that so many others do too. Every time I read someone else’s work and like it, and then see that they’re my age I feel like smacking myself on the back of my head. Why don’t I write like that yet? Why am I not there yet? Why am I in a constant PAGE NO. 29

tussle between whether to devote more time to seeking out publications or actually just sitting and writing and getting better at it ? It ’ s maddening . And it scares me that all of this may actually , genuinely amount to nothing . I may not get to say my ‘ so there ’ to everyone . My eventually may be never . And it is painful to realize that being a ‘ could - be ’ is a worse place to be than a ‘ has been ’.

But for now , I promise myself that I shall try . The space in my wall still lies empty .

And I intend to fill it .

PAGE NO. 30

IF THIS WAS THE LESSON BY I LEARNT IT NIVEDITA SHARMA

20/12/2014. 2 minutes after the idea popped out, in minds we 3 sturdily decided to climb the highest peak of west India. Gurushikhar was evidently visible from our field of work, the Oriya village. So much was the zeal that after a few minutes of pestering our research attendants, we were out on the pathway. But a little did we know about the way, the distance, and the terrain, we were heading towards. Much of the trails we followed were directed by inhabitants of native villages, that came on our way. For most of our time, we stayed along the road and chose shortcuts whenever we found the road meandering over the hill. However, these shortcuts were not as appealing and amiable as the name goes. In order to cut the distance, several times we crossed dense woods those were branded for the wild variety of brown bear found in them. After 2-3 successful attempts, so much the confidence grew that we were caught in an illusion.

Climbing a steep height of many feet, scratching our way through thorns and cactus, sensing scorching heat over our heads and after reaching a certain height in that forest, what we saw was nerve-jangling. A neverending dense valley stretched on the other side, with the scariest vegetation we ever experienced and with possibly no in-habitation. There was no way back, and no way we would've attempted to cross that valley.

All thoughts of ravenous animal, that appalling research attendant and endless routes in jungle began to flow. A sense of jeopardy veiled over us, until we found the moving cars reflecting sun on our faces. Nothing in this world would've alleviated our spirits more. We were running again, through bushes, spines, spikes and a pond, till we finally found a road and a tractor passing by. We shouted like fanatic go-getters. And guess what?

Remaining distance, was covered on that tractor.

Gurushikhar was not simply a destination. It was that journey that gave me 2 amazing pals I'll cherish for a long time to come. Sometimes, we need not exchange pledges and promises because situations are so intense that they leave us astonished and let us fabricate relations on faith.

If this was the destiny of that day, I'm glad that I took that path.

PAGE No. 31

PEOPLE OF COLOR

BY DAMINI SINGH SOLANKI

if you were to rise against the lashes your spine bears witness to.i know you could burn the cities echoing enslaved cries of your mother. or, the cities tainted in red, with the blood of your father. but, you don't. for you know what it's like to lose what you love. such is your love for a city that turned into rubble everything you ever loved. "how do you not break?"

PAGE No. 32

CYANIDE AND UNHAPPINESS

BY AYUSH KHAR

When the highs of life Was success what they sought?

Or failure did they resist Began to somehow hide Out came the high of death I somehow think on days The glorious dose of cyanide.

That they die not to tell the taste Many a lives were lost For how else can you find To unravel it's taste Justifications for lives lead to But I still wonder waste Why did they die in haste Come o feared drug Was science the reason If perdition be your course Or did reasons deeper exist Rather dead with a mouthful of mystery Than alive with a head full of remorse.

PAGE No. 33

O MOTHER! O mother! you desiccate every tear and dissipate every fear, O mother! You kiss every shallow part and heal each broken piece!

O mother! your love is all emcompassing and unadorned!

O mother! you succumb your joys for the sake of others, O mother! your prayer breathe life into dead desires for which I have pinned, O mother! your caress engulfs me makes my wearsome withered hopes, bloom in the embrace of your shrine, O mother ! I am your seed and I call you all mine.

PAGE No. 34

BY YOGITA MALHOTRA

MISTAKEN!

BY PRIYA SINGH

When I opened my eyes, it was twelve thirty at night. I got up, changed my clothes and quietly moved out of the hostel. The college gatekeeper already had a bucket and a hockey stick ready as I had ordered. I grabbed the hockey in my firm fist and started towards the graveyard after ordering him not to tell this to anyone. I started moving when the gatekeeper reminded me to stay alert and beware of ghost vampires and other evil spirits. I paid no attention to him.

I made my way towards the famous Baoli (a well with steps inside to fetch water) behind the graveyard. As I walked I thought of that cursed time when I agreed to my seniors' challenge of fetching a bucket of water from the Baoli. Actually, it all started when they were talking something about ghosts and I entered their room. After listening to them for a while, I claimed that such things dont exist. However, they claimed to have seen something scary in the graveyard.

But I held my own point. So they challenged me to go and fetch a bucket of water from the well behind the graveyard in the middle hours of night. Being stubborn as I am, I agreed. They had already bribed the gatekeeper and asked him to allow me out of the hostel in the night.

Here I was walking through the graveyard with a bucket in one hand and hockey in another. Each and every second seemed like a year and the Baoli it seemed far and far away. The walking path was barely illuminated by the moonlight. In spite of non-believing in the existence of ghosts, I was afraid. What if the ghosts actually existed? The thought wrenched my heart but I kept walking.

I reached the Baoli and looked around at the deserted compound. It seemed more haunted and wide in moonlight. The cold wind blowing made a peculiar whistling sound while passing through the weathered ancient stony walls. I took a deep breath, mustered all my courage and started stepping down the well. Each step seemed like a step towards hell. I almost slipped a couple of times trying to judge the next step down. Somehow I reached the bottom. I filled the bucket, turned and suddenly the lightning struck. Just at the corner of the baoli a body was standing draped in white. Its loose clothes fluttering in the wind like a death invitation. I, in a sheer reflex and fear, stuck the hockey and ran as fast as I could.

The bucket fell and the water splashed. But who cared. Suddenly I realized that I was lost in the desert. I looked everywhere but there was no life except me. I was thirsty and tired too. I was not running anymore. I started walking slowly, trying to find my way. Moving my gaze around, I saw a dim fluttering light at a distance. As I moved towards the light I found out that it was a small cottage. Though I was afraid and horror stricken, I was relieved to find someone in the middle of nowhere. I ran there and knocked at the door. By this time cold had reached to its peak and was affecting me. I was shivering. A tall and dusky man opened the door. I was exhausted by now. I fell on his feet. He held me and took me to his bed. He gave me a glass of water. I drank it all and demanded for more. As I regained my senses I told him that I was lost and also told him about the baoli incident. I was surprised that he did not flinch a bit even after hearing my horrific tale.

PAGE No. 35

He stood up, looked outside the window and started laughing. I was confused; I thought maybe he is mad. All of a sudden he became silent, raising his left eyebrow, looked at me and said in a loud voice "You have been sent here to fulfill a purpose. Its your destiny ". Then he told me the story of that baoli. A lady had committed suicide by drowning herself in that baoli because she was ditched by her lover. Now she took her revenge from all the men who happen to come to that baoli. I gulped on hearing this and my heart felt that it would explode. I wondered why I was chosen and what for. He told me that he was a Brahmin, a god-man. He had a vision that one day a man would come and he would be destined to destroy that evil force. I became curious and frightened at the same time. I asked him why I was chosen, and then he showed me a mark on my left hand and told me that I was her lover in my previous birth. And since she had seen me she would not let me go back. I was scared to death after hearing this but something within me said that I had to do something about it. By now I had seen a ghost so I had to believe in what he said. I had no options left. I asked him what was required of me. He said "you will have to go to the same baoli and sprinkle holy water in it. Then you have to sprinkle that water on her and set her on fire".

After saying this he gave me a bottle, which had some blue liquid, and a match box. I asked him to accompany me but he said that it was my task and I had to do it alone. I was helpless. I had to trust him in order to save my life. He gave me a thread to tie on my left hand. He said " don't part with this thread otherwise you will die". I remembered and prayed to each and every god, left that cottage and moved in the direction of baoli. He had told me to follow a specific path to reach that baoli. I did what he said.

As I reached there I sensed someone walking behind me. When I turned back, there was no one to be seen. My heart was racing so fast that it would come out of my mouth. There was complete darkness and no commotion. As I was moving towards the baoli I heard someone crying. I was too terrified to pay heed to it. I kept on walking. Then I heard someone calling my name. My fear crossed all its bounds. I ran towards the baoli, opened the bottle and poured some liquid in it. As I was pouring the content out in water I sensed a hand on my shoulders. I stood there stunned. I was heavily perspiring. Suddenly I saw my hockey lying there. I grabbed my hockey in a flash of a second, turned around and started beating that monster. My action was so quick that the evil weapon in white was taken aback and moved backwards. Bottle of holy water was still open in my hands. I poured all of the water on that white evil. Now I had to set her on fire. As I was struggling with the matches, it held my hand. I shivered and dropped all the matches on ground.

The evil pulled me down so hard that I fell on the ground. I could smell paraffin. All at once I was reminded of a lighter that was lying in my pocket. I took it out and burned that evil with that fire.

As the evil burnt, I could hear someone calling my name. That voice was a male voice. I was still so much terrified. I left everything there and ran towards my hostel. I ran through the graveyard and reached the hostel. In a split of a second, I was in my bed. I dont remember whether I slept or not but I was in a no mood to attend the morning assembly. But I had to.

PAGE No. 36

After the assembly I went to my seniors room. They all saw me and asked about yesterday night. I couldn't tell them in the fear that they wouldn't believe. I told them that I didn't go there and I was in. my room. Then they told me that one of my seniors ' Rahul' had gone there to tease me. My face grew red and sweat droplets trickled down my ears. I couldn't stand there anymore. I went to my room and closed the door. I could hear the same voice calling my name again. My hands smelled of paraffin. Probably that man was really mad.

Two days later the news came that a burnt body was found near an old baoli, which was identified as Rahul's body. And a boy named Tarun, of Shyamanad boys hostel committed suicide.

PAGE No. 37

TONIGHT I WILL WRITE

BY BHAAVIKA JOSHI

The sunlight filters through the mango leaves Onto the the crumpled sheets filled with a peaceful heave.

The morning begins with a sun-kissed face Lulled away in another dream.

In your love, my anxieties and complexities stayed hushed, My breaths no longer felt rushed.

In you, I found a place I never knew Too many memories, and yet, seemed too few.

That calming smile and a shoulder o cry To be the best that there is, you did try October to June, the months that could be counted, Testimony to a lifetime lived, unaccounted The walls echoed with what they had found, What people spent a lifetime looking for.

The dream I knew, the love I lived, A reality threatening to fade, as I slowly open my wandering eyes, "Stay. Just for one more night" I whisper To a familiar face in a familiar land, Silencing my demons if just for one more night.

PAGE No. 38

TODAY I SAW LOVE

BY SHUBHANGI MAHESHWARI

Today I was walking on a roadside Headed towards a commonplace destination I stopped by a roadside vendor He was selling food And food rejuvenates my mood So I halted And I placed my order “Two aalloo parathas please,” I said Then something happened that jostled my head I saw Love Love as pure as a dove There amidst sweat, poverty and need’s glove I saw the glory of love Deprivation and insufficiency could not tear them apart Because their soul was adorned with a loving and passionate heart She would not desert him in that hour of need Together they worked hard to make ends meet He handed over the paratha to her, half done And from the opposite side of the food stall, With that understanding smile...

She took it from there on, As if it was their little moment of fun!

In his dependence and trust, I saw love In her assurance and smile, I saw love And it was as if her smile were contagious It was so beautiful that I felt it on my lips!

At that instant, I immediately knew that they were one, I knew that their love was as immortal, as warm and as bright as the sun And I heaved a sigh of relief!

Because in their moment of love, I saw hope and belief A belief that my world still had some hope left in it...

Today I was walking on the roadside Headed towards a commonplace destination But what I saw led me into a divine realisation Because I saw love Love not in the jewels and gifts and tall promises of the lover to his beloved Love not in the high flowing words of the poet But love simple yet profound!

Love undying and unrelenting GLORIOUS Love!

PAGE No. 39

BY SHARON AHLEY

INSECURITIES

I’m not a prom queen I’m just an acne scarred teen I don’t belong to any clique The ‘oh-so-populars’ make me sick But don’t misunderstand me I’m not what you actually see I hide my feelings with a smile on my face But my mind feels like it’s trapped in a freaking maze.

My insecurities threaten to consume me As I turn into my own enemy It’s all because of the idea of a perfect body But tell me how can you compare a Honda to an Audi?

My mind tries to fight all this But the mirror says that’s how it is Being short, dark and lean Is the reason of my low self-esteem

PAGE No. 40

BY JAYA VERMA

CINDERELLA'S NIGHTS PAGE No. 41

Its not so shiny tonight, the buds too lazy to bloom.

In my bed, I struggle to write, with ink as dark as gloom.

Now turning back my pages, to find some older rhymes.

I bend and smell those roses, pressed hard between the lines.

They agreed to lend some oceans, few skies to grace my dreams.

And paint the rusty portions, turning the grays to greens.

I walk along the shore, the silvery carpet shimmers.

Kissing my feet once more, frothy blue wave quivers.

Some gold they spill on sky, a sphere of milk is glowing.

I open my wings and fly, the fragrance of clouds is flowing.

I slow down and sing with birds, when the clouds begin to melt.

I kiss the moon goodbye, for the flaming gold shall spread.

Walking on prisms aligned, I blindly move ahead, On wheels of the wind I ride.

They say Cinderella it's over, and promise to show next night, when the steps of a clock are slower.

SEPARATION

BY ANUSHKA PANDIT

Two bodies. One soul.

That's what you call love.

Breathing together every second One flamingo, one dove.

Sailing with the wind, their love touched every tree Every tree that stood, every bird it could see Soothing the dry leaves, and making the rains fall All the creatures would see, that stood on the tree tall.

Not a pinch of Sorrow Ever roamed around Put your ears to it Joy was the only sound.

What happens when the soul breaks?

Maybe the breathing stops .

Or maybe it pauses for a while.

But why did the soul break?

Why did the smile become an exile?

Yes, one day there came a storm Made everything dry Leaves stopped moving Birds tried to fly.

Trees tried to stand still Their roots were being hurt Creatures, whosoever, tried to speak Their mouths, Shut.

Well, can you take a hint of that Think, think my friend Everything that begins my dear Always has an end .

The wings of time tried to expand They tried to fly really high But the soul within was there no more Eventually, they had to die.

They fought to keep it alive Soaked in doom the cityNo. cried PAGE 42 But what's destined cannot be stopped The truest love ever died.

THE SILENT RIOT Those drops will tell the story unknown the story of the life you are binding on...

It will show the dreams of your mind And the secret pain in your smile...

These will roll down for you, reaching his hand Believe! He will never realize it as your tears Enjoy the rain little girl!May your mistakes and tears get washed through; not your dreams and beliefs...

Raise from the mud! For those who thought you are Burn them with your blood and ashes Fight them with your soul and purity As long as you are woman, you are human Ached by the pain and suffocation... wounded by the knife of separation You thrive for survival...

Still lay tranquil in the black...

Never lie, alone girl, those widened hands always protects you You may get vanished, but your story will never Your purity will never!

For I am the drop and will always shine up by your story...

Flow from one place to another and Mark the beginning of the ocean...

BY MEGHA NAIR

PAGE No. 43

TO BE FREE OR MAYBE NOT TO BE

BY KAMAKSHI MATHUR

You’ve just watched that random travel video, or read that eternal peace fractal enlightenment article. Deep words, to give it all up. Give up your job, give up those desires, give up those ambitions, roam the world with nothing, want nothing, and you're dead set to attain peace and connect with your soul.

But what if you're someone who gets thrilled with every promotion? What if you like traveling with a Starbucks coffee in your hand? What if your joy, comes from what you are already doing?

I say don’t give up on it all.

What they forget to tell you is that you never want anything. They forget to tell you, that even when you’re looking for peace, even when you’re focusing on finding your soul, you’re wanting something.

By our very nature we NEVER not want anything.

And if we do, that’s a depression. A downward spiral which will leave you with nothing to live for.

That’s not what we want.

So always want something. Want something with all your heart. Want something with all your might. Do everything to want it. Wanting isn’t a crime. Desires are not criminal. Ambitions are not evil.

What is evil, though, is to give up on what makes you happy to go after something that someone else thinks will make you happy.

We’re not all hardwired to be the same. We’re different, right from our exhilarating neuron connections to our fingerprints. We were made different. Each with a joy to follow and to create one’s own happiness. You don't need to give up something to be happy. Keep what you have and take what makes you happier.

Be greedy for joy. Be ambitious for what you want, a villa in a countryside or homeless on a beach. Take charge of your own happiness because there's no one who knows it better than you do.

Don't pursue it, create it. Today.

PAGE No. 44

The story of winds Warm thanks to all the contributors and Kalaage for partnering with us, we are sorry for the entries that could not be accommodated in this compilation due to space and design constraint those will be published on the website separately.

Go ahead and submit for our next edition on www.kalaage.net

PAGE No. 44

"Be

yourself,

everyone

else

taken

"

- Oscar Wilde

www.inkdrift.com

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