Tag Archive: life


There is a wall behind my head,

there’s a mirror before,

It all depends on what I choose to see.

The bricks give me purpose,

to decipher the sky beyond

The mirror lets me be

mad in my reflected emotions.


They say it’s not a matter of my choice

The bricks would define the redness in my eyes,

either way I look.


So, I stop looking

and prove them wrong

Inside my head,the bricks pave way

for me to enter a happy song

The mirror dissolves and takes me to the other side,

beyond,the walls, where there is a way

that I haven’t yet tried

brick wall




Husain’s diary entry: 4.9.12
How far can we go resenting? Who can define the boundaries for reasonable show of protests?

A while ago, I had a chat with a few friends over a cup of hot coffee whose mesmerizing vapors made one of us look back at one of his experiences with a strict teacher we all knew.

He said ,she, although a wonderful human being went a little too chatty about her students who apparently gave her a little hard time and that annoyed him as she went on gossiping her way to glory.On other days he wouldn’t ind it, but that particular Monday was a bit speedy on his clock as the matter he addressed, deserved immediate attention.

I wondered aloud why he didn’t voice his concern with her. To which my herbal tea- lover friend putting down his glass admonished me with dangers of showing ‘busy’ people of how busy we are. He said it is highly impolite and must at all cost be avoided especially if the person is a higher authority and has autocratic and undemocratic tendencies. I couldn’t understand how fear should dictate how one feels and reacts. They said I never would.

Yes I am a rebel and have no consideration for ‘rules’ that people make. I would like to correct them. I love following rules which are ‘written’ and not otherwise. There must be many blithering idiots like me who wouldn’t like to knuckle under powerful people (PP) and hide their resentment. Folks who wouldn’t betray their emotions for PP to like them.

We have people who defy men who choose to take a stand against Mean and Big yet wouldn’t join them or act like them when opportunity presents itself. Such hero-worship is pointless. And such spinelessness is criminal. I don’t advocate people should go crazy and overtly express themselves through choicest foul words but I believe showing you are uncomfortable when you are, is legitimate. I believe we owe it to ourselves.
But who am I kidding? We have lives to live, places to be and bungalows to erect. Surely such talk can only interfere with all the stuff we have in our minds. We should emulate plastic dolls which forever smile even when torn by evil babies. Pretense, as my wise friend who serves us hot beverages at our favorite coffee joint says, is a necessary accessory these days.

The coffee served here has started to lose its sting maybe I should complain. But the owner might ask me to immediately clear my due account first or leave the premise. Wait, what did we just learn here?

Husain Sodawalla

Am I Corrupt..??

I took the window seat, ready for the journey. And soon, the train started. It was a short visit from Mumbai Central to Vapi. With my college friends, I was going there for an industry visit. With our confirmed reservations, we hoped to travel comfortably in the sleeper class.

The next station, Dadar, and people rushed in as if they had forgot that it was not any Local of Mumbai but the sleeper class of an express train.

On the seat of three, six of us were trying to adjust. One of my friends confirmed them that we had our reservations. Surprisingly, they already knew that. And I came to know that day about the special service of the Indian Railway of allowing the DAILY PASSENGERS to travel in sleeper class with a pass of second class. When the T.T.E. arrived, we got confirmed about this facility. But remember, you need to be a DAILY PASSENGER to enjoy this service.

Then, started the topic of corruption. One of the people sitting with us, just going through the newspaper, started the discussion. A short conversation over it, and it ended soon.

Our three hour journey somehow ended, just feeling to have travelled in second class after paying for sleeper class.
The whole day, during my visit, when I had to observe the working principles of machines, I was forced to think about their topic of discussion, CORRUPTION.

And the question left unanswered, who is RESPONSIBLE..???

Abhishek Kumar

N.I.F.T. Mumbai

Familiar Strangers(through his eyes)

Rahul’s Diary Entry

This is an excerpt from Rahul Paul’s diary who is a 25 year old business tycoon. He is bored of life. He does not like changes in his daily routine. He was an attention seeker. But, one fateful day, a beautiful girl changed his perspective about life. Instead of seeking her attention, he learnt to pay attention to what she said, what she did.

Two days ago, I had come to Mumbai. My dad shifted his base of business from Delhi to Mumbai. Unquestionably, my mom, my elder brother and I also had to shift to Mumbai. I wasn’t comfortable with the idea of shifting to Mumbai- not after living in Delhi all my life. I had everything I wanted in Delhi- best of friends, teachers and most importantly my guitar classes. I have been going to guitar classes for the last 10 years. I had been giving band performances with my friends in Delhi. But all that was lost now. I was really sad.
I stay at this place called ‘Kharghar.’ It is a place in the midst of greenery. In the monsoons, the greenery looks healthier than ever. I am lucky enough to move into Kharghar during the monsoons.
I am just another 25 year old. I help my dad and my elder brother with the business. We had to work hard to build clientele in Mumbai, since the place was new.
I had gone to CST to meet a client. Before coming to Mumbai, I was told a lot about ‘the Marine Drive’- about its beauty in the morning. From the second I heard about it, I wanted to see it. Since I had a meeting with a client there, I decided that I would go a little early and visit Marine Drive. I took my camera, laptop and of course my guitar with me.
I was at Marine Drive by seven in the morning. I had missed the sunrise but the sight was worth seeing. The meeting was to begin at eight. The sky was clear then. The sun had risen. The orange, red and yellow rays of the sun were seen to be blending in with the unending waters. I was so engrossed in the scenery that I forgot to click photos.
I had a good one hour to myself. I hadn’t had enough of the beautiful beach, so after finishing off with my meeting I left my guitar and laptop at the client’s office and went back to Marine Drive. This time, I witnessed a different scenery altogether. This was also stunning. It was raining heavily. This time I clicked a lot of photos. My camera was water proof.
I took photos of the unrelenting waters, of the golden sand and of the different people around me. As I was doing so, in the traffic of so many cars, cabs and buses honking at each other, one silver colored Audi Q5 caught my eye. The face in its backseat caught my eye rather. I saw the face of eternal beauty through the zoom feature of my camera. I saw the beautiful face with a pair of curious brown eyes and curly hair of the darkest shade of black. She was enjoying herself. Her hair was wet.
The Audi passed by in a fraction of a second. I did not even click photos of her. I didn’t have to. Her face was embossed into my mind. I had fallen head over heels for this girl.
Now, I know why I was sent to Mumbai. Knowing that I will not meet her again, I went to my client’s office to pick my laptop and guitar up. Later, I proceeded towards the CST station to go back home to Kharghar. All this while, I was thinking about her.
As I entered the platform, I saw her sitting on a bench all alone in her beautiful blue jeans skirt and blouse and a matching blue scarf. As she moved her head, her earrings swayed. She was probably sad or bored. As I walked into the platform, invariably, towards her, she looked at me with those beautiful questioning eyes and a slight smile on her face. She made me realize that I could die for her- her smile. I spotted a shop selling foodstuffs and got into it to clear my mind off her.
After five minutes of trying to control myself, I went to sit next to her. As I sat next to her, she was laughing about some inside joke. Her laugh was the most melodious music that I have heard. She looked at me and blushed. Then, she apologized for being loud.
She looked cute when she blushed. She talked to me without taking her eyes off my guitar. So, I guessed that she was interested in music. I played ‘My Immortal’ by ‘Evanescence’ followed by ‘What makes you beautiful’ by ‘One Direction.’ By the time I finished the second song, she had the brightest and the most beautiful smile on her face. I was happy that she was happy.
Later, I asked her the reason for her melodious laughter. After a lot of insistence, she told me about the conversation that she had imagined to have taken place between three rats she saw on the railway tracks. I was engrossed in her expressions rather than on what she was said. From what she said, I understood that she wanted to know more about me. What was better than a lunch to know each other? Giving the excuse of feeling hungry, I took her to lunch to the McDonalds outlet that was right across the street.
It was still raining- something between drizzle and heavy rains. We got a little wet by the time we were inside McDonalds. The crowd was thinning down now. She looked beautiful as she ran her hands through her hair to dry them. Her eyes showed how irritated she was about getting wet. Wow! She looked beautiful in every way.
I told her to settle down at a table while I got the meal. I asked her what she would have. She was shy. So I said that the bill was on me. At this, she frowned at me. Her face looked as innocent as a new born.
I paid her bill. (And that is something I am proud of.) When I took our meals to the table, she took her purse out to pay for her meal. But I refused in my style! She looked at me for a few seconds and then smiled. I could be funny for her all my life. I would be by her side all my life and never let her go. She had kept her scarf aside.
Sadly, it was time for us to go back to the station. Time runs at the speed of light! We went back to the CST station just to see the train eagerly waiting for us. As we saw the train, we ran to our respective compartments without saying ‘good-byes’ to each other. I purposely did this because I knew that I would find her and meet her again. This wasn’t the end and I knew that. As the train gathered speed, I took out her blue scarf from my laptop bag and felt her presence with me.
After meeting her, I felt like I knew her long before we met. We were strangers to each other this morning but, I knew that she was ‘the one’ for me from the moment I saw her in that car.

Mathangi Aiyyar


Familiar Strangers

Tara’s Diary Entry

This is an excerpt from Tara Aiyyar’s diary, who is a 20 year old girl with lot of dreams and expectations from life. One fine day, her life changes for good. She now sees things, from a different point of view altogether.

Not very long ago, I was planning on doing Chartered Accountancy. (A long story!) Some work related to that was supposed to be finished. The head office is located at CST, Mumbai. I had been postponing that business for a long time now. At last, one day, I decided to go there.
In the morning, the sky was clear in Nerul. I was waiting for the train to arrive. For a change, the train was on time. I got into the Ladies Compartment of the local train and was happy to see that there wasn’t much crowd there. I was comfortably sitting in one of window seats. The cool breeze was washing my face off all the drowsiness that I had. By the time the train rustled through the meadows and atop the Arabian Sea between the Vashi Station and the Mankhurd station, the breeze had become cooler than before. That day was chilly as compared to the last few hot summer days.
I reached CST station and pushed my way outside the railway station. From there I took a bus to the designated place. As I entered the office, I saw that the sky was darkening. I prayed that it shouldn’t rain now. (Not today of all the days!) All my work was over in a matter of two hours.
As I stepped out of the office, my fears came true. It wasn’t just drizzling; it was raining cats and dogs. ‘I don’t even have an umbrella,’ I thought. I took out my cell phone to call my mom; the networks were jammed.
I continued to cross the road in the hopes of getting a bus back to CST station. I was completely wet by now. ‘What will I do? I am stuck here now,’ I (literally) cried out loud to no one in particular.
A lady was standing right next to me at the bus stop. She asked, “Where are you going?” “CST station,” I said grimly. “But I don’t think I will get there anytime soon,” I added. Her eyes twinkled as if I had just shown her the way to a hidden treasure. She said, “I called my husband and he is on his way here in his car. He will be dropping me somewhere near the CST station. McDonalds. That is where I am headed to. Do you want to join?” I was more than happy. “Sure,” I said, “Thank you.” I smiled at her and she smiled back.
By the time, her husband arrived I was guessing how old she must be. When I first saw her, I had the impression that she was my age. Her eyes had the curiosity of a teenager. So, I was shocked when she said the word ‘husband.’
Within the next few minutes her husband arrived in a silver colored Audi Q5. I was stunned. Not a word came out of my mouth. The majestic car had me numb. I opened my mouth to say something but closed it without saying anything. I quietly got into the car. The car sailed through the traffic smoothly.
We crossed the Marine Drive. That was the most beautiful, romantic and soothing sight to the human eye. The scene disappeared at the blink of an eye. In a few more seconds, we were standing in front of McDonalds. The lady and I got down.
The station was on the other side of the road. I crossed the road safely. (Considering that I am not very good at crossing roads. My friends can vouch on that for me.)
I had not taken the return ticket. So, I had to stand in the long queue here. There I was told that the trains are running indefinitely late. I got scared. After waiting for as long as 20 minutes, I got my ticket. Just as I reached the platform, the train that goes via Harbor line to Nerul was leaving. The train was leaving and I couldn’t do anything about it.
I hauled myself further into the platform. I searched for a vacant bench (it wasn’t difficult). The platform was completely deserted. Just then I remembered that I had to call my mom. Frantically, I went searching for a phone booth as the network on my cell phone was still jammed. I called mom from a telephone booth just outside the station and told her about my whereabouts. (It was still raining.) I went back to the same bench on the platform.
I was getting really bored. Waiting for the train or any other mode of public transport was a pain in the neck. It was equal to doing some task- a very tedious task. I looked here and there. I spotted a book stall a few yards away from where I was sitting. I thanked God for it. At last, something, with which I can kill time!
I went there and ended up buying a Tinkle digest. It was eons since the last time I read one of those. Especially, I missed the Supandi Tales a lot! As I finished reading Tinkle, I heard an announcement being made. It said that the train to Panvel would arrive in another hour and a half. ‘That’s my train,’ I thought.
I kept the Tinkle Digest inside. I was thinking of what to do. My eyes went out to the empty railway tracks. Two rats had come scurrying out of their holes. A third rat joined in later.
I let out a big sigh. Again, I was left with nothing to do. So, I looked at people’s faces. There were people from all walks of life- the working class, the rich class, the not-so-rich class and the poor class. Out of these, there were some who were minding their own businesses while some others who loved to poke their nose into others’ business.
While I watched all these kinds of people, I saw someone. I thought that it must be a whim of my imagination. (Because the face looked very angelic, serene and perfect.) The angelic silhouette was walking towards me. As the serene figure neared, I could see how the wine colored shirt, the pair of black trousers and the black blazer could make him look so handsome. He looked at me in a weird way. Then, he stopped at a shop.
I turned to look to other side. Then, I remembered the three rats. Just for fun, I imagined their conversation to be:

Rat1: Hey, I heard that it rained cats and dogs.
Rat2: Oh My God! Then we better get into our homes.
Rat 1: No, you idiot! It was just an expression to say it rained heavily.
Rat2: Oh… And how is your life going?
Rat1: Bachelor dude! Happy I could be. What about you?
Rat 2: My life is goin….
A third rat comes scurrying out. I imagine it to be Rat 2’s wife
Mrs. Rat2: Are you getting the food or should I serve you to the kids?
Then all the 3 rats scurried into their respective holes.
I was laughing at my own joke. (To come to think of it, it was lame, wasn’t it?) I had completely forgotten about the angel which was coming towards me.
I heard the sound of someone clearing their throat. I turned to my right and saw the ‘angel’ sitting right next to me. I looked down immediately and went red in my cheeks in embarrassment. There was an awkward silence between us. He said in his clear and captivating voice, “I have never heard a girl laugh that way and that too without sharing the ‘private joke.’
“Well…” I stammered with an expression of apology, “I a… am.. s…sorry. I shouldn’t have laughed out that loud.” “No, no,” he said smiling, “I didn’t mean to be rude.” I turned to look at him.
That is when I actually saw him properly. His looks were to die for. Girls would go crazy for him. I was looking at his guitar continuously. He probably noticed that; because later he asked, “So, do you like music?” he asked. He gave me that crooked smile for which I could’ve done anything. “Yes,” I replied. He took out his guitar and started playing ‘My Immortal’ by Evanescence. Apparently, it was his favorite song. (Without a doubt, mine too!) He also played ‘What makes you Beautiful’ by ‘One Direction.’ Towards the end of the second song, I was shamelessly staring at him. He kept his guitar carefully in the case.
“Now you have to do something for me,” he said with a wicked smile on his face. ‘I hope he doesn’t ask me to dance here,’ I thought. “What?” I asked almost in a whisper. “Don’t be scared,” he said, “I just want to know why you were laughing.” “Okay,” I said. Then after thinking I said, “Never mind. It is lame.” “I want to know anyway,” he said.
I had to give up. I told him all about my imagination. While I was telling the story, I realized that he was amused by something that I did or said. While trying to explain the whole situation, I was moving my hands and I had too many expressions on my face. I stopped and asked, “What is it?” “You don’t usually talk much, do you?” he asked. I was surprised by this question. I answered, “Yeah. I usually don’t talk so much. I do not know why I am telling everything to you. And,” I concluded, “I don’t even know your name.”
Subsequently, I turned towards the railway tracks. I was lost in my thoughts. He brought me back to the present. He said, “Aren’t you going to finish the ‘joke’?” I was shocked that he completely ignored whatever I said. He didn’t even tell me his name. (Not that I told him mine!) Anyway, I went ahead to finish the ‘joke.’ As I finished the joke, his lips curved into the handsome, crooked smile, showing his right dimple.
“Now,” he said, “to go to your previous statement about not knowing names. My name is Rahul. What is yours?” “I am Tara,” I said. We shook hands. “Can we please go and have something to eat?” he asked, “I am starving.” We decided to go to McDonalds which was right across the road.
By now, the rains had reduced; though they hadn’t completely stopped and it wasn’t drizzling either. We crossed the road and entered McDonalds. It was cold inside. I was completely wet. I had run my hands through my hair that had made my curly hair look like a bird’s nest. He was also fully wet so his shirt stuck to his body. Hence, the outline of his body could be seen. He had a body that every guy in this world would want to have. His hair was shabby, yet, he looked perfect.
The place was unusually crowded because of the heavy rains and delayed trains. Now, as the rains had reduced the crowd was thinning down gradually. He told me to sit while he kept his luggage with me for safe keeping. As he turned around to go and order, he suddenly remembered something. He asked me, “What will you have?” “Uhm… Nothing,” I said. “Don’t worry,” he said smiling, “the bill’s on me.” “It isn’t about that,” I said frowning a little, “I don’t want anything really.” “Okay,” he said, “so you will have one meal, right?” He went off. I called after him but he wasn’t ready to listen.
He was back with two trays of ‘meals.’ He kept one tray in front of me. I had already taken my purse out to pay. He said, “Don’t bother. Because, I am not taking it.” He winked at me. I put the purse back into my bag and smiled.
We finished our meals and headed back to the station. We reached the station just in time to see the train all ready for departure. We ran towards it.
I pushed myself into the ladies compartment; took a seat. The train honked twice and left for its destination. When the train caught up its speed, I realized that we didn’t exchange proper good-byes. I didn’t have his phone number either. I didn’t know where he lived. I wanted to kill myself for that. I wanted to meet him again and again and again. It was the most memorable day for me. I can, now, tell people that an angel had descended from heaven just for me. I just hope I would meet him again.
Talking to him was like talking to a long lost friend and yet, he was just another stranger. He was like this familiar stranger to me.

-to be continued

Mathangi Aiyyar

Right Here Waiting For You…

Before you start reading this, I just want to tell it is not to blame anyone, any group. It is just what I have gone through.


It has been more than three years when I last saw her. Her body lying in front of me, trying to say, “I love you so much that I am afraid to be separated from you.”

It was the day when she finally decided that the society which she is a part of, will not permit her for such a serious offence and she finally decided to punish herself, rather punish me.

Standing still in a corner, everything had stopped for me. Just unable to understand anything, sure, I didn’t want to continue. Just asking a question to her, why she made this decision alone. I wanted to be with her forever, but…

I still remember the day when I first met her. As usual, hesitated to approach a girl, but this time somehow managed, only because, it was her. Friendship was the only thing I wanted that moment, and surprisingly, I was successful.

Soon, there was nothing she didn’t know about me, and, in return, she had someone she could trust on. Though, only friends, we had our own little cute world. We had to spend all the time together, be it the school, coaching or any other time.

In the next six months, I gathered the courage to speak out the truth. The only thing, I think, she could find in me was the truth, and if it was so, it was sufficient for her acceptance. Well, nothing left to tell. It was the only thing I wanted.

For the next two years, sometimes together, most of the time away from each other (well, studies are another part of life at that stage). Just the thing we had, trust, faith and love (if this is called so. I am no one describe it.).

But, we have a so called society, which we are a part of. But still, it is not ours (at least in my case). She somehow realized that taking the rules of ours society into account, she had committed a huge crime. The fear of being separated dominated my faith, my love and everything. She had more faith on our society than me and she was sure we wouldn’t be able to face it. Finally, she decided to quit.

I have been waiting for her since the last three years with a hope that she might realize that I need her at every stage of my life. Well, she hasn’t returned till now and the only thing I can do is to wait.

Abhishek Kumar


N.I.F.T Mumbai


The Pessimist’s Loss

He walked in despair
Each step, a melancholic song;
Life in shambles, beyond repair,
He sat reflecting; what went wrong?

The darkness pressed on,
The breeze felt colder
As he sat on the edge of the cliff
Nothing but misery, sitting astride his shoulder

He picked up the stone
From the pile by his side
And threw it far, into the waves
With a rage, he couldn’t hide

The darkest hour wore on
Even as he cursed his luck, writhing in anguish
Each little stone bore the brunt
Of every unfulfilled wish

The first ray broke through the clouds
Cutting through the sea mist
The endless sky, now tinged a deep crimson
Vied for the attention of the eternal pessimist

Drowned in an ocean of maudlin
Too lost in his gloom
Crying in his beer, too blinded by sorrow
To notice Nature in full bloom

He fumbled for more stones
To cast away with disdain,
Hands probing in the erstwhile pile,
Searching impatiently, but all in vain.

The birds seemed to mock
The tides laughed like the thunder.
All grief was replaced by shock
As he looked up and realized  his blunder.

Eos gave her most mischievous smile
He sat there, head in hands and stunned
Looking at the last of the rocks he had fed the ocean with
It was a priceless diamond.

– Amogh Das Guru


BITS Pilani Dubai Campus


If Clothes Could Talk

That evening, while returning home by the usual jam-packed local, I wondered how our clothes feel, fighting, scraping against each other in a stuffy space we did not have enough room to breathe in. The thought was random, and could have been a fleeting one.
But for the lack of anything better, and to take my mind off the perpetually annoyed (annoying, really) ladies in the first class compartment, I decided to go with it. What would happen if clothes could express? What would they say? Soon enough I got a seat and the wind fanned my thoughts like fire.
That pair of your favorite jeans would tell you they needed to be washed weeks ago. That stained blue shirt would complain that it would have liked chocolate ice cream better. That beautiful sari would blush at the thought of making you look like a million bucks on the most memorable day of your life. That torn frock would weep when recounting its memories of coming under your bicycle tire  That school uniform would get chills just remembering the water fights in the bus. That dupatta would have fond memories of your children tugging at it. And that torn sari would feel squeamish all over again at the thought of being tied to your daughter’s bleeding hand.
Our clothes have lived through all our memories with us; and remember much more than what we do.
If they could talk, we would probably sit and catch up with our clothes every once in a while, and it would be as exciting as meeting old friends for a gossip session! So clothes might actually become a way of connecting to parts of you that you never knew existed.
I was suddenly back to earth as the train approached Kurla station. Cursing myself for indulging in pointless discussions with my mind, I hurriedly got off.
Not entirely pointless as I realized later.
That night, after brushing my teeth, I decided against wiping hands on my shorts.
Just in case they decide to talk. 🙂

Rashmi Shankar

N.I.F.T Mumbai




Scalding desert of my heart
barren as ever, miles across
lies shrouded in the mist of your being..
Mustering courage, braving loss,
and the storm of feelings,
I head for oblivion
away from your presence.
Your shadow in the amber mist
eludes me, tortures me..
I try to reach out, touch your shadow,
but my hand gathers the mist instead
and gets burnt by its fiery vapour..
reminiscent of the burns you gave me..
Tired, wasted, pathetically undone
Scared of any future tryst
yet resolute, headfirst, I walk under the sun
trying to escape the eerie mist..

Dev Dua


Yesterday i was making bubbles
through a blowing pipe
and looked at it with continuous gaze
but in seconds the images wipe.
I wondered they were vanishing
from 10.. to 8.. then 5..
but they conveyed an inspiration,
glowing glimpsing in a hive…

The rainbow colors they have in them
describing their beauty & grace
the glowing bulge, the rounded shape..
but oh..! they have no face..
Their flying struggle to go so high..
some go.. some will.. some may…
although they have a very short life..
in a moment they erase..

Their innocence & the fear of death
like human’s negative feel
their sudden end with a slightest touch…
& presence becomes unreal..
I always think that why they appear if..
they have a living deal,
but that’s the truth of every life i guess!
with no chances of heal..

So why we fear and face goes pale
to think of going away..
make your life colorful like them
and a wonderful place to stay.
Don’t feel low on turning apart
live it in efficacious way.
for that once gone will never come back
there’s no another day..

Aishwarya Vashistha

'Campus Writing'

Let Creativity Run Wild..!