CREATIVE WRITING
PORTFOLIO
Archcult 2016
Gurutsav 2014
Archcult 2017
Feeds 2017
NASA 2017-18
Katha Utsav 2014
Spirits 2012
INDEX NASA 2018
NITTFEST 2018
SPIRITS 2014
A MARTYR TO BE REMEMBERED
Conducted by- Rotary Club, New Bombay Seaside
An On-The-Spot Poetry Writing Competition, With the first sentence given as a prompt. Time Limit- 1 Hour Winning Entry
A MARTYR TO BE REMEMBERED The brave soldier marched, unmindful of the pouring rain. Reach, he must, the enemy post, through the difficult terrain. His teeth crittering and, his jaws went numb of cold, His fist clenching his gun, needing nothing else to hold. Every cell of his, was screaming out for rest, But his heart pounded hard, to reach the enemy crest. Then a gunshot fired at him, pierced through his shoulder, still he was grim. Streams of blood trickling down, but he continued with a cold frown. An explosion behind, and he was thrown to the ground. “Get up and move!” Was his mind’s only sound. The brave soul got up on his knees again, writhing with a lot of agony and pain. The final moment neared, and shot the rifle, piercing through his heart, and everything went still. “Oh my country, forgive me!” were the last painful words left free. He sank into the ground, silenced, Sacrifice was the only thing alive, amidst the clouds, dark and dense.
KATHA UTSAV’14 Conducted by- Katha
Story Writing Competition Time Limit- 1 Day
NAMMUTE PAITRUKA KATHA
“8,9,10! Here I come!” Her voice echoed under my feet, reverberating through the walls of the attic of my ancestral home in Kerala, where I was being choked in the dingy darkness amidst the huge trunks and cobwebs. Playing hide and seek with your cousins in the afternoon is great, but sitting in such a place which is next to impossible for the kids to find was not! Interrupted by periodic giggles from underneath, I felt the unexplained silence killing me, making me search for anything which could keep me occupied. Then, my eyes stopped on a trunk, embedded with beautiful carvings. The next moment, I was swishing through the musty contents of the trunk; many kanjeevaram saris, copper and brass utensils and then, my fingers felt an antique frame. I pulled the thing out and lo! It was an old painting. I was quick to recognize my grandfather and then soon realized it was a family portrait with people from four generations! I was speechless! And then…. Aaaccchhuuuuu!!!!! A huge sneeze! Uughh! The door opened and there was my sister, smiling with a feeling of accomplishment and great pride. After a few taunts and giggles, I retired to my room, scanned the portrait, transferred it to my laptop and started searching through it. There was an eerie wind, blowing the windows wide open and just as the palm trees sway in a storm, my hair danced wildly in the air and descended over my wide eyes reflecting the storm in my mind. My eyes roved through the cracked papyrus over which the natural tints had once played an artistic game to create this masterpiece by combining heritage and history. Yes, the portrait had not just people, but gold idols of lions, tigers, elephants, peacocks, paintings of a temple gate and, the most beautiful of them all, a gold idol of Lord Ganesha with studded precious gems! And all, these were skillfully hidden in the backdrop with such perfection that it made me gape with awe. “These idols were long lost even before your birth kanna.” said my grandmother, whose eyes were transfixed on the man who held my father. “Which temple is that ammamma?” I asked, pointing at one of the paintings. “It is the biggest temple in this village. And it is believed that it houses many guarded secrets.” she said with a sombre smile. That night, I took my torch, put on my jacket, and with my brother, left for the temple. It was midnight and the lane was quiet as a cemetery, except for our footsteps and hushed voices, oblivious to which, the village slept in peace. The full moon looked extremely beautiful in the dark sky, like a new bride with studded stars as gems in her hair, shying away behind the thin clouds. “Curse those movies! Why do you think all the treasures would be hidden here! I mean, even if it were, entering into the temple stealthily like this would put not only you, but both of us in trouble! Let’s go back. Such treasures are better off in dreams.” said my brother. But these words had no effect on me as I was deeply lost in thoughts. “Did this temple actually have dark secrets to hide? Were there really some treasures hidden?” Soon, we were standing in front of the huge temple tower. It looked like a giant gobbling almost the entire sky, the moon disappearing into its mouth. I paused, took a deep breath and then handed the torch over to my brother. I climbed over the wall of the temple premises and signaled my brother to climb up. After giving him a hand, we were about to leave, and my brother stopped. It was the temple guard! “See I told you we will be caught!” said my panting brother. “What are you kids doing…” I hit him with a huge log and he lay there still as I turned towards my brother. He stood rooted to that place staring at the fallen man with shocked eyes. I pulled him along and started walking though the premises. I was heaving heavily and then my brother shook my hand and stopped. “How could you ever do this Chinu!” I kept walking, faster and faster, leaving him behind. “We will be thrown out of this village if anyone else…” and the voice stopped. I froze! My brother was gone! I could hear my heart beating inside my ears. “I have lost him! What will I tell amma and accha!?” I shook the torch aimlessly and it slipped from my hand and rolled to a stop. I was sweating even in the blowing wind. And then I saw something.
The torch pointed towards a dark open passage. Picking up my torch, I peeped inside and saw a winding staircase. It looked cleaned and showed signs of recent use. I started moving down, flashing the torch light as the stairs came to an end and then I saw him, lying still on the cold stone floor. I ran towards him and shook him hard, ” Get up Somu, get up!”. He coughed, rolled a bit and then opened his eyes. Relieved, I looked around, trying to figure out where we had ended up. I helped my brother stand and then we started searching the place. There was an old wooden door at the end of the room. I pushed it open and flashed the torch and what we saw made our hands tremble and our lips quiver. Gold and Gold! It was the treasure that we were looking for! The elephant statue, the lion and tiger skin and statues, the ivory peacock, the paintings, my great grandfather’s silk robes and turban, everything that I had seen in the portrait was here in front of my eyes! Along with it were many other treasures and, the beautiful Ganesha idol stared back at me. I went speechless as I was too dumbstruck to explain in words. I took the idol in my hands and my fingers raced through the minute carvings and the stones embedded on it. I was about to call out to my brother when some force pulled me behind the old silken blinds outside the room. I wanted to scream and kick my way out of the clutches but couldn’t. And then I saw something through the small opening of the door. It was a team of four foreigners along with two Indians. What were these people doing here? Then a question popped in my mind,” who pulled me out?” I turned behind and my eyes couldn’t believe what they saw! It was my father! “What are you doing here acchan?” “I should be asking you this but lets sort that out later at home. Thank the guard who informed me that you both were roaming around here. We were so worried when we didn’t find you in your room.” My brother and I did nothing but glance blankly at each other, one equally surprised as the other. “What are these people doing here dad?” my brother questioned. “These things are being sold to The International Federation of World Heritage, London. Our family is facing shortage of money and after selling all the antique jewelry, all we were left with was this treasure.” “But we can’t do this dad! This is not just ours but the priceless Indian heritage that we are selling, and what for? mere money!” “No more discussions on this topic. Come with me.” my father glared, as we were dragged back home. We saw the foreigner shake hands with the Indian in agreement. In that moment, I decided that I will not let this happen and my mind started weaving a plan. The next morning, I ran down to the house of the Panchayat Head and narrated the whole incident to him. He promised me full support and in a matter of few hours a huge crowd had assembled in front of our verandah. My dad stepped out of the house along with my uncles and enquired what the matter was. “How could you do this Ramakrishna? I know interrupting in one’s family issues is not right, but these treasures belong not only to your family but also to this village and this nation.” said the Panchayat Head. My father glared at me and I ran inside, away from the obnoxious situation, to my grandmother’s room where she was sitting, looking outside at the crowd. After that, what I heard was in Malayalam and thus I couldn’t make head or tail out of it. Suddenly I heard the foreigners approaching and they spoke to the head about the sale of the treasures, to which he clearly refused. What followed, was a heated argument and fortunately, we won and the white men left, disappointment clearly written on their faces. I felt really happy that my plan had finally succeeded and then I felt two sunken eyes staring at me. It was my grandmother. Tears rolled down her eyes and I could make it out that this time, they were happy tears. She stood up slowly, hugged me tightly, and said, ”My son could never understand the value of these treasures but you have. I am proud of you kanna!” That moment, I felt a warm relief that I had saved the mark left behind by my family and the nation, to look back at, for eternity.
GURU UTSAV’14 Conducted by- MHRD
GURUAN INFLUENCER
Online On-The-Spot Essay Writing Competition Time Limit- 1 Hour Word Limit- 1000 Words
GURU- AN INFLUENCER ‘Maatha, Pitha, Guru, Dhaivam’ a very famous quote in Tamil which stood true when it was quoted, stands true today and will stand true in the future as well. Education is the key to success in life and teachers make a lasting impact in the lives of their students. After parents and before God, teachers are like pot makers- they treat you to intense heat and harsh conditions from outside but gently smoothen and shape you from inside into a masterpiece. They are like lamps whose guidance spreads the light of knowledge throughout the lives of their students. These are not just mere words. These are gems of experience collected from the life of my friend. My friend Akshaya was the all-rounder of our school- good at academics as well as co curricular. She was not only my best friend, she was my role model. But things turned topsyturvy after her father’s death when she was in class 8th. She was shattered to bits after this huge loss and slipped into a state of trauma. I tried convincing her but things turned worse when she started shutting herself away. She stopped interacting with people, always stayed aloof or sat in a corner and sobbed her heart out and we could do nothing but watch helplessly at our friend whom we were slowly losing to the ‘quick sand’ of misery. We could find none who could help her. Neither could her mother support her as she, herself, was in need of support at this crucial moment of her life, nor could this society provide her any help. All they could give was sympathy and words of pity which deepened her wounds even more. Thhings went downhill when my friend started doing substance abuse. She had already been killed mentally after the irreplaceable loss of her father and now she was killing herself physically as well. In this moment, the only solution that came to my mind were the caring and considerate words of a person who is a perfect blend of all good qualities of head and heart and of humanness. A person whose words can change my friend’s life for eternity and bring her back to life. Such a person could be none other than my English teacher, Bella Thomas, who had always helped me during hard times. I accompanied my friend to her house and narrated the whole incident to her. We spent the whole evening at her home and the words she uttered are still afresh in my mind. “Human Life is all about moving on. People enter your life for a particular motive- to teach you valuable lessons of life. But, when their purpose is fulfilled, they leave your life silently. We all know it is hard to digest such a loss but sitting and crying over it isn’t a solution. Rather, we should swim out of this adversity and move ahead in life, keeping in mind the valuable lessons they taught us. This is human life and THIS is what we are made for.” Tears rolled down my cheek as my friend uttered these words in her speech when she was awarded the “Student of the Year” award as she stood first in the class 10th board exams, exactly two years after that enlightening conversation with our teacher. This is not just one instance. History is replete with such examples- right from Helen Keller to Albert Einstein. One looks back with appreciation to the brilliant teachers, but with gratitude to those who touched the students’ inner feelings. The curriculum is so much necessary raw material, but warmth is the vital element for the growing plant and for the soul of the student. Teachers bring the best out of their students and change their lives with the right mix of chalk and challenges. These are no mere words as I mentioned before. Its pure belief and faith, No, It’s a Universal Truth, as she changed my friends life forever.
ARCHCULT 2016
A DREAM COME TRUE
Archcult’16-Vriddhi The National Level Architectural Symposium, NIT-Trichy Poem published in the Official Archcult Magazine
A sudden stark spark sharp light through pitch dark and there she was, standing under the dim moonlight, smiling. My hands reached out to her vanishing silhouette which now, was just a speck and everything blacked out. I searched for her everywhere and my eyes finally, met hers. colors splattered over the spread sky as golden locks escaped my fingers. The wind played with her gown and the daffodils swayed along a face prettier than the setting sun adorned the horizon so long. A bright pink flushed those cheeks as my hair gently embraced them and the slender milky fingers sparkled like little gems.
A DREAM COME TRUE - Venkatlakshmi V I Year
31
The final strokes of mine there she was in full shine as my brushes and paints played on my canvas, she laid.
ARCHCULT 2017
YOU LIVE FOREVER
Archcult’17-Melange The National Level Architectural Symposium, NIT-Trichy Poem published in the Official Archcult Magazine
FEEDS 2017
WILL YOU BE MY FRIEND?
Feeds The Official Student Magazine NIT-Trichy Story Writing Entry
My hands searched for the doorknob amidst my blinding vision and I soon felt it in my palms. The door creaked open with a rush of wind on my face, my hair strands playing with it. There hung a musty smell, the new companion that my room had found. I wobbled inside the room squinting my eyes through the rays of light piercing through the open windows. Dust flew around with every step I took inside the empty space, yearning for the same old presence. I felt the familiar touch of old unused wood, my table, chairs, cot, and the rusty grills looked like snakes curling up in a merry dance. I squeeze my eyes for a better vision and then I catch a glimpse of it. Nostalgia fills my head, rushing in memories of my blissful past, before reality struck me hard. I stare at the kid, as my eyes get moist, waves of tears slowly hitting the shores of my eyes. A proud smile spread on her face with the first prize trophy in one hand and the sari fleets held carelessly in the other, the cloth threatening to give away any moment. I remember how mom had meticulously cropped my hair for my fancy dress competition in kindergarten. “Oh my God! Your daughter looks so perfect in that costume! Even Indira Gandhi herself would have been awestruck looking at how naturally your daughter carries her looks. Gracious! How is she so effortlessly able to recreate her?”. “We are just gifted to have her”, my mother’s eyes beamed with glistening pride. But that little glint of sadness in her eyes is what I never caught until, a few days back. Tears trickled down my lifeless cheeks, flowing through the ridges and valleys. I walked further ahead into my room, as all the memories caged inside my heart resurfaced, and all my emotions roared for release. Then I trip and fall down with a thud as the dust chokes me into unstoppable bouts of cough and wheezing. I hear my body crack as I slowly try collecting myself back and then I see them. Bob the builder repeat run CDs were always my favourite. Dad had gifted them to me on my 5th birthday and I had snatched them from his hands, as I ran in to watch them right away. A “Bob the Builder” marathon was all I needed any day to cheer myself up. But today, even Bob stared back at me helplessly, missing those good old days when we used to play together happily, ignorant of what ugly truths life was cruelly going to throw at me. I get up, knees paining with the impact and I move further breathlessly towards my cupboard drawers. My head throbbed in shooting pain as I whisk through the bunch of diaries I had written. “I know she’s young but can we take her writings as the entry from our school in the juniors’ category for the upcoming competition?” my teacher had asked my parents as they cried with happiness.
I would cry every day to mom asking why I wasn’t like all other kids but all I could hear were uncontrollable and silent sobs amidst muffled words which I could never decipher. “Oh God! Ugly Betty’s here! Run!” my neighbour’s kids would squeal as everyone broke into a sprint, looking at me. How I felt fitting in with people was a necessity! Sometimes you just need to shun them out like toxins, but I would try gulping them down my throat even if it pricked and choked me to death, just to make me socially appealing and acceptable. I would just sit there silently in a corner, looking into my book, asking the little angels and fairies to be my friends and take me to Utopia. I would ask them to take me high up into the vast expanses of the skies lying wide open in front of my eyes. Maybe, they just answered my prayers too soon. My painful chain of thoughts were broken into a million shards of glass with just one glance at it. Yes! My Teddy stared back at me expectantly as I lifted it in my shaky hands. I stare into those gleaming button-like eyes. The old lady stares back at me in pain and sorrow. Yes, Progeria had hit me late, or maybe the fact that it existed inside me did. My crinkled fingers caressed its fur as my heart pounded against my now weak ribs, aching to be set free. A million emotions flowed in as I hugged the little creature who was the only one to accompany me on my last journey. My mom called me, her voice clearly shaking with misery and pain, as the ambulance wailed in the distance, overpowering my wails and screams for rescue. I give one last look to my room as I leave for my final journey in this hollow world full of pain, carrying a million memories to cherish as my soul departs to finally meet my little fairies and angels. As I lie on the bed, I ask the doctor amidst short breathes from the oxygen mask and my vision slowly blurring to darkness, “Will you be my friend?”
NASA 2017-18
THE LOUIS I KAHN TROPHY
Conducted by- NASA(National Architecture Students’ Association Main Aim of the Trophy- Conservation of Heritage and Traditional Systems Content, Analysis and Composition of Manual Documentation Sheets. 2017- Site: Melukote, Mandya, Karnataka Aim: To Document the Traditional Water System present 2018- Site: Legislative Assembly, Hyderabad, Telangana Aim: To Document A Symbol of Power (Past and Present)
MELUKOTE MEGHAPUSHPA AADHARA Through the Dusty roads of Mandya Perched atop Rocky Granite, Rests a Peaceful town. The Town which treasures its Religious and Cultural Ethos, A Borough of Beauty and Beliefs, A Terrain of Timeless Tales, The Town of Melukote The Glistening glory, glazing through the highlands, Resonating through water, which fosters their lives.
RASHTRA SHASANA SABHA Under the Nizam’s supreme sovereignty, The lion’s city grew with glorious gayety. A town hall for their beloved built with alacrity, Became their transition from autonomy to democracy
The historical city of Hyderabad helmed by its Nizams was a celebrated commonwealth of copious contradistinct cultural creativity and craftsmanship, the Mehbubya town hall being the best example to it. The structure sculpted, subsequently returned and used as an administrative body by the society, is straightaway a supreme symbol of a self governing suffrage.
NASA 2018
ARCHITECTURAL CRITICISM
Conducted by- NASA(National Architecture Students’ Association Architectural Criticism on The Guggenheim Museum, Designed by Architect Frank Lloyd Wright
Solomon R Guggenheim museum,
designed by the world renowned modernist architect, Frank Lloyd Wright, is one of the most celebrated and critiqued edifices of its time.Conceived from the “temple of the spirits” of ancient Mesopotamia, the museum form was referred to, as an inverted ziggurat. This is due to its unique ramp gallery, extending up from the ground level in a long, continuous spiral along the outer edges of the building, ending just under the ceiling skylight.Amidst the skyrocketing trend of vertical expansion, especially in the fast growingcity of New York, this cylindrical building stands apart as an example of modern architecture embracing nature.
GUGGENHEIM MUSEUM THE FRAMEWORK The spiral design recalled a nautilus shell, with continuous spaces flowing freely, one into another. Wright ascribed a symbolic meaning of human ideas, moods and sentiments to the building’s rigid geometric forms. The oval-shaped form of the columns reiterate the geometry of the fountain. Circularity is the leitmotif, from the rotunda to the inlaid design of the terrazzo floors. The site’s proximity to Central Park required Wright to design the building in a vertical rather than a horizontal form, making the museum both natural and modernist at the same time, coalescing with the city settings and the community it is a part of. ELUCIDATION The building looks like a white cylindrical stack, wider at the top than the bottom, in sharp contrast to the typically rectangular buildings that surround it. Internally, the viewing gallery forms a helical spiral ramp climbing gently to the top. Thus, the design weaves the building and the artworks into an uninterrupted, beautiful symphony. It is also very awkward to hang the paintings, not in their vertical true plane but tilted back against the shallow, windowless, concave exhibition niches that surround the central spiral. The shell form of the structure doesn’t have any remote relation to its functions and has a very low ceiling, slanting outwards, following the outward slant of the exterior wall. THE INTERIORS Once inside, instead of being monotonously led through a series of interconnected rooms, the guests ride to the top of the building by elevators and descend along the gentle slope of the continuous ramp, to view the atrium of the building as the last work of art. The carefully articulated lighting effect from the skylight is another example of amalgamating nature with the modern concrete surfaces, embodying the inherent plasticity of organic forms in architecture. Thus, Wright’s design obliterated the conventional approach to museum layouts and acted as a catalyst for change.
ARCHITECTURAL CRITICISM
VENKATLAKSHMI
NITTFEST 2018
HEADPR & CONTENT
NITTFEST- The Inter-Departmental Cultural Festival, NIT-T
Major Work Involved Creation and Management of Posts, Events and Content for both On-field and Digital platforms (Mainly Social Media)
nittfest National Institute of Technology, Tiruchirappalli
763 likes nittfest
When life gives you lemons and you have “Died Trying” to work it out, away from home, all you need is some rib tickling humour, strumming music and your very own “Chai Time”. NITTFEST’18 and Comedy Central present the one and only, Kenny Sebastian!