Friday, April 5, 2013

कल रात मेरी आँखो में सपने की एक बूँद आई

कुछ इस कदर दीवानी हुई वो हमारी, के हर रात सपनो में चली आती है

कभी आँखो में सपना, कभी सपने की एक बूँद बन जाती है

ऐसा प्यार भी किस्मत वालो को ही मिलता है

कि हमने तो उसकी गली छोड़ दी, पर उसकी आँखें हमे न छोड़ पाती है

कल रात भी वो मुझे ढूँढते आँखो में चली आई

कुछ बातें की उसने, कुछ बातें दिल में छुपाई

गम उन बातों का नही, जो उसने मेरी नम आँखों से की थी

गम तो उनका है, जो बातें वो कह ही न पाई

Vishal Gupta 
Dept. of Aerospace Engineering.

The Sloth born to a Miner

I'm a sloth born to a miner,
The miner who is stern,                                                              
He drills rock-blocks finer,
And that helps him earn;
Watch him setting out,
For a fresh undug mine,
His sweat bears liquid gold,
That he trades for us to dine;

I'm a sloth born to a miner,
The miner who knows no pains,
Melts his bones and muscles,
For the little what he gains;
Keeps my breakfast ready,
Kisses my forehead while I sleep,
Bids an early morning goodbye,
Then jumps on to his jeep;

I'm a sloth born to a miner,
A miner who lost his wife,
Since then fostered the minor,
Till I learned what is life;
Fixed my legs on the ground,
Told, "Chase life like a hound",
Never beat me for my failures,
But, woes instinctive would mound;

I'm a sloth born to a miner,
A sloth who struggles all the time,
The sweet memories of the miner,
I sing to me through this rhyme.
The miner lived his days,
Brought in plenty short-lived gays,
The miner now is gone,
 I look at the distance, beyond the sun...

Dedicated to all the Fathers, who may be miners...

3rd Year Undergraduate,
Dept. of Geology & Geophysics,
IIT Kharagpur

Thursday, April 4, 2013

Sometimes I wonder...

Sometimes I wonder
How our world would be………..
When we would have been together for a long long time,
We’ll know each other so well so fine;
You’ll finish my sentences,
And I’ll know you left your keys on the fences;
You’ll be my mentor and I’ll be yours,
And we won’t have to worry for expenses;
Our quarrels shall end up in multiplied joys,
My tensions and your worries shall be our toys;
You’ll be a connoisseur of my emotions,
And none shall surpass this strong relation;
And we shall not look towards each other,
Dear we’ll be looking in the same direction,
With the best of our love and affection;
My million questions shall be answered with you,
And your puny query shall take me a second or two;
Every dairy milk will start with you and end with me,
And I’ll be hiding one for you, lest you see;
Our relation that once nourished in gratitude,
Would then flourish by effortless attitude;
Down the streets in that windy weather,
All our on-goings shall flock together;
Your presence will never make me static,
Coz each day will hold something ecstatic;
And when I’m down you’ll give me a choice,
For all I would hear would just be your voice;
You’ll forgive my bad habits and I’ll ignore your little quirks,
What would be a better panacea for all my jerks;
Your vision and my energy,
Nothing would prove a better synergy;
Misunderstandings shall creep in never,
This well being shall thrive forever;
I would not be writing poems like this,
Coz I would have nothing to long and miss.
And just when our life seems predictable,
You’ll surprise me; I know you’re able;
All our cherishing moments shall remind a history to me,
That your thoughts were always like a chemistry to me;
I mix them all to explore your emotions
For there will always be a part of you,
That remains a beautiful mystery to me !!!

By- Saurabh Shukla
Undergraduate Student, 3rd year
IIT Kharagpur


“Where is it?”

“Where is what?” asked Beryl, turning away from me towards the wet wall she had been writing on.

“The part I don’t teach you: indiscretion. I keep telling the world it must allow you a little, so it will end up being a little less hurt and I a little less disappointed when you bring out all you can.”

I wish I did not know Beryl. I wish every instance of an eye-contact had nothing to do with anything but chance and intrigue. And as much as I longed for the same, Beryl improvised on her little game. You cannot reason with a pupil who keeps trying to steal answers to your questions from your own expressions.

“Oh, the foundations…” she spoke, covering up the last remains of stealthiness, “Get me a refill.”

She dipped her brush into the jug of red paint (the jugular of her emotions, clucked a wag inside my head) and started dabbing it against the bottom of each letter she had written. NORTH BYELORUSSIA. (Long enough to suit her depths, guffawed the wag again). And they weren’t mere letters, were they? In place of each, there was a skyscraper here, a tree there, a statue somewhere and a dog peeing on it, a plough, an effigy, a thumbstack , gallows, a guitar, and so on.

Red paint trickled from the base of each, into the sink below.

Ah. Foundations. I stood by Beryl and stared at the wet wall of the public wash-basin.

I noticed Beryl never has a hint of perfume about her. One day she’s a swine and she recognizes my gonads as Michael and Gabriel. Another day she just pops out of a blueberry cheesecake and falls before she can decide which foot to land on. Today, she’s distemper and she is learning how art can force one to think instead of simply urging one to act.

I wished the wash-basin in that railway station had more taps. The music would have had more and more notes as droplets of water leaked out of them at unsynchronized regular intervals.

We looked at the little stream of water washing away the blood-red paint as it trickled and dissolved into it.

By: Sachin Sai
4th year UG student
IIT Kharagpur

Passion for poetry

Some people try their hand at poetry
At some point in their life,
But only few succeed in being free
From the so-called poetic hype.

So, you might question my motive,
As I start scribbling my first dictum.
To that I say, my mood is festive,
And I wish to share my cultivated wisdom.

I do have a knack for a thing or two,
Outside the monotone of curriculum.
While one of them is cricket, true,
I would also like to create my poetic spectrum.

A famous author once said to me, I quote:
“To freely emote, you need to love”.
But there’s a trick, as he left a footnote,
“And then you’ve to feel the pain of that unachievable love”.

The impact of these words was so great, you see,
They made me wonder “what is poetry?”
Is it the description of someone’s rewarding journey,
Told with exaggerated ecstasy?

Is it the silent soliloquy of a man’s tear,
As he realises that his achievements are fake?
Or is it the expression of one’s despair,
When life gives him a bitter heart-break?

I believe, it’s a man’s compulsion,
To divulge whatever is deep within.
As for me, I’m really enjoying my version,
And of course, it’s rhyming scheme !!!

Ayan Hazra
Dept. of Mechanical Engineering

Wednesday, April 3, 2013

Investigations of a Lover

You want to know,my love 
how does it feel to hide my sorrows,
fears and anxieties
beneath this conspicuous veil of flesh and bones
and still manage a cheerful face.

You want to know
why don't I give up to the natural emotions
and shed off the impervious exterior
to show the world what hides in me,
the true colours ,the unmasked face
and you say you would love it all
whatever there is to see.

You want to know,my princess
why you still dont feel the intimacy
the bondings and the warmth
and all other love fancies,
when I've been with you all these times
moment by moment
memories by memories;
You also ask,why those memories are not drenched
with the earthy smell of nostalgia
but only exist because they have to.

But like a scorpion,you have the poison at your tail
And you bit with Incinerating words 
 the contempt too all fresh
As you say that you were amazed
despite our making love a hundred times
I was yet to undress !! 

But say no more my beautiful girl,
As I am ready to answer 
all that you want to know
the unspoken words,the half read thoughts
and the shrugged off questions 
which still lay in your memory wearing away my love
which used to be all carousing and lots of fun.
So Let my darkest fears and the gravest sins be revealed
in the faintest hope that you will still be mine
And let people see in this game of love 
how truth and honesty still shine.

You know I played my cards right
gave you the love and did only what
I see people playing all the time
So I also imitated them
enclosed my real ,bitter ,truth seeking self
and sunk in the intoxicating ,alluring 
fragrance of falsehood and indecency.
You have to forgive me for that
because it is a  tricky world 
and that assured me like,
found would be the answers
to the questions I seek 
and for that climb I had to
the love's dizzying peak.
I managed that happy facade
as it was the only way to be a part of the brigade
happy benevolent smiles to show
and to let inside the seeds of restlessness
and fear grow.

So I met you
out of the blue,an awesome serendipity
forgot the questions and all the rationality
charmed&enchanted by all your beauty.
And you became my necessity and me your casualty.
I played by the book and you responded well
Love grew and questions faded
Hormones raged  and logic failed
But where it would lead
was hard to tell.

But in the heart i knew
that we were just a boy and a girl
doing what was all superficial and hollow
faking stuff to be a part of the mad crowd
which gets manipulated and has nothing real to follow.

It was my fault,
I believed that
such a beauty like yourself
could exist in this damned world
and still be truthful and real.
It was my fault,I believed for a moment
that our love could be the thing I wanted
the thing that would be life altering,
but I realised ,
it was just a drug like any other;
nicotine and alcohol got a bad name
love slipped away with all the glory and fame
What a shame ! What a shame !

Never I wanted to undress my soul 
for you would have seen the ugly child
who inside me keeps crying
constrained by the books of etiquette
from breaking all loose and wild.

I hid this pathetic me from all 
until you came
and made me believe that life was sweet indeed
but all it changed was from
'same' to 'same'.
So this has to end,
our love which can't be real
and no matter how beautiful you are
fake is all what you will become
and thats the most what I fear.

 So you must go my charming dear,
for I have some answers to seek
some truths to unfold, crystal and clear
The path is hard I know
but its better to live in reality
than rejoice in illusion.
 you would also do the same,I wish
break the mould of falsehood and fly
to the gardens we couldn't visit
and the delicacies we couldn't try
because these bondages give us a sense of freedom 
when none exists.

But Just in case
I got it all wrong
forgive,my love,my blasphemous words
which may seem to hurt you 
but our love was the best thing to happen
in this miserable world,
you will know it when its due.

And if I fail in my endeavours
you must not be discouraged
 and shouldn't wait for me but fly;  
I would be in pain and will cry
but that would make it easy
to be mad and drunk and blown
and jump from the building
from which you,my love, had once flown.

But you would still want to 'know'...
and that's what now makes me smile 
as atleast 'You' have started to fly
While I sit back lonely in reminiscence 
And cry.

By-Satyam Sai
aduate Student, 3rd year
IIT Kharagpur

The Time We Will Meet…

I always wonder how it would be like, the time we will meet
You shall smile the same way, like when you thought about me
And I shall be holding your hand
Hoping those conversations to repeat;

You shall be sitting beside me, will I ever believe?
And with all affection you shall let our love to interweave;
Your fragrance will all be around, flowers will recede
Shall that moment last forever along, the time we will meet?

Your presence shall embrace the surrounding breeze
And I shall desire the instant to freeze;
Your gilded lips, that voice so sweet
Shall I be able to make them sing, the time we will meet?

I always have longed for this moment 
Shall my longings diminish, the time we will meet?
You shall know the unsaid, your elegant face tells me,
I shall not open my heart lest you speak.

I always wonder how it would be like, the time we will meet,
You shall smile the same way, like when I teased.
And then you shall be holding my hand
To reciprocate and waiting for me again to repeat.

I shall not tell you about the gift till the time we will meet
Coz I want to see that surprise in those pearl eyes & accept your greet.
We shall let the gratitude gush; deep inside we had a rush
Don’t worry it will all be over, the time we will meet.

I always wonder how it would be like, the time we will meet.
Shall it be the day I have always dreamt of?
Shall the weather celebrate our meet?
Shall my heart forget its regular beat…?

I always wonder how it would be like, the time we will meet…
I always wonder….

By- Karan Kakwani Undergraduate Student, 3rd year IIT Kharagpur

The Girl With A Pearl Earring.

The heart skipped its routined throbs,
The larks in the balcony began to sing;
The sky seemed brighter in the night than the day,
When I saw a girl with the pearl earring.

Her lips limned on her Hera face,
Renewing her charm on the eve of every spring;
Washing away the ware of her mortal allures,
Such was the girl with the pearl earring.

Exotic her angel eyes caressing the pulse,
Cherishing with her fragrance a minxed fling;
Watery kohled like a monsoonal brume,
Gazed at me the girl with the pearl earring.

Nightskied as a spotless black,
The halo through her veiled hair dazzling;
Boundless are the dreams to hold onto once,
The very same girl, with the pearl earring.

By- Kartikeya Pradhan
Undergraduate Student, 4th year
IIT Kharagpur

Life, Is there more to it ?

Life, called a mystery by some
a beautiful creation of god by others
the sweet scent of a flower
or the bewitching flight of a butterfly
ain't they all a gift from the almighty?

What is more amazing,
I always thought to myself
life itself or the ability to experience life
its highs and its lows
moments of sorrow and moments of joy

Life's journey was always a roller coaster ride
with its ups and downs
all one could do was to just hold on to dear 'life'
and experience those few passing minutes
while it lasted.

But where does it all end?
Are we just specks of dust in cosmic time
or does life have any purpose ?
the incessant rat race, a race validated by the society
where does it all lead to?

I asked myself this question time and again
never quite finding the answer
then it struck me one day, why did life need to have any purpose?
aren't we all just mere witnesses?
just mere witnesses to seeing this world in all its glory

By- Rohit John
Undergraduate Student, 4th Year
IIT Kharagpur

The Mask

In this blind age of today
where greed and deceit are all there is
and lies and betrayal are the norms set
Masked emotions, masked feelings
masked desperation and masked words
Is a mask all there is?

Even death and sorrow seemed to pale
when they wore a mask
the lines of fear and the lines of sorrow
blurring seamlessly creating
a vile two headed monster, a horror, a shadow
the two masked faces of tyranny and sycophancy

Buried in lies and vileness
fading from the yellow pages
are true spirit and individualism,
the real essence of sweat and blood
mocked at, scoffed at, through the ages
true reason and intellect being forced to wear masks.

Wherein lies the Golden Age of Reason?
the true face of reason and compassion
Was it all just a lie, an illusion, a mirage ?
buried in the snow, nipped at the bud and left to die.
wherein lies the key to the great halls of the mind !

By- Rohit John
Undergraduate Student, 4th year
IIT Kharagpur

The Traveler's Symphony

I am a traveler,
On the path of life;
Oh Sands of Time,
Hear my prayer,
Sing me a song of love.
Oh Heralds and Spirits of the passing,
Let me hear, so I learn of the Legends-
Of the heroes, the travelers before.

Oh, Winds of the West,
Oh, beloved sons of power;
I bow to thee,
For you are the Creator:
Of valleys fair, and of grasses green
That bend before your might;
And you, of a life-giving force,
Over them in calm multitudes blow.
Lead your disciple, I beg and plead,
Unto the path of a mind freed.

Oh, Mountains, greatness divine,
Your sanctuary that protects each life fragile,
I come to thine refuge;
Bless me with strength,
That I stand steady,
In rain or in storm,
In fire or in ice.
For the time that passes,
Shall pass in a while,
What remains is but the truth in my eyes.

"The seedling that in light flourished,
Then in darkness shall it perish."
Light of the Sun,
Grant me then;
That when darkness comes,
And sets the sun,
And so ceases the traveler's stride;
Hope shall rise,
In a dawn of love,
For after darkness, comes the light.

The tides of time,
They come and go,
The test of time the toughest of all;
Poseidon, O Lord of the seas,
Help me fare this life at ease.
If in time, I fail on a path,
The oceans vast shall wash on me,
And I shall rise like a mighty wave,
A desire to reach the end, the sandy shores,
Where I shall lie on the journey's end.

Oh mighty earth, Artemis' bow;
The bearer of fruits,
That giveth life to a hungry soul;
The holy womb that nurtured the Tree of life,
That shadowed the sweat of the tired strife;
The flowers of love,
The grass so green,
The fountain of eternal life:
O mother earth, grant unto me,
The power to give, a selfless mind.

The nights I spent, under the starry skies,
Oh! Lord of the sky and of heaven above,
You gave me a place I could call my home.
On those lonely strolls, and the sleepless nights,
You gave me dreams of a brighter life.
And when in pain I came to you,
You rained on me the healing touch,
That tear of hope that cured from within;
O Lord of the skies, bring me to light,
Heal me again, of the darkness inside.

So ends the trail of the traveler's breath,
So ends the song of his sweet symphony.
The path he walked shall tread no more,
But his song lives on, as the travelers before.

By- Drishti Guin 
Undergraduate Student, 5th Year
IIT Kharagpur

The Olympic Express

A few days ago, I was Kharagpur bound on the Amravati Express. A mini holiday at
home, with all the ghar ka khana and maa ka pyar, although rejuvenating, makes
it very hard to come back and face ordeals like mess food for another semester or
so. I was missing it already.

My reverie was broken by the loud beating of a drum at my end of the
compartment. From the other end, a little girl, 6-7 years old, somersaulted her
way to where I was sitting. With the blink of an eye, she did three continuous
somersaults in the narrow aisle, without much difficulty. After she was done
with the stunts, she pulled out a thin ring, roughly a foot in diameter, slid it over
her head, and dropped it to her waist. She started swinging it with gracious
movements of her waist that would make any gymnast green. Then she was
joined by a small boy, perhaps her younger brother. The girl lay down on the
floor; face down, the ring positioned vertically around her waist. The boy slipped
into the ring by sliding above the girl. In from this end and out from the other in a
smooth slithery motion.

Both of them stood up; the girl brought up a small steel bowl. The boy following
at her heels, they moved about the compartment hoping that the entertainment
they provided was worth a few pennies. They sure made me happy. In fact, I
was dumbfounded. I could see similar astonishment on the face of the other
passengers, most of who willingly shelled out a few bucks.

Recently, an article was doing the rounds on the web about how China trains her
kids the hard way, for Olympic glory in the years to come. I guess its India’s way
of training them. Their kids do it in the quest of medals; our kids do it to quench
their hunger. I mean, if they could do gymnastics on a running train, bring on the
Olympics, right?

Ah! Almost forgot! Playing the drum was a lady, most probably their mother. She
must be in really dire straits to make her small kids work for food. Imagine the
pain. At least, she did not resort to in-your-face-begging. So much to provide her
kids with ghar ka khana and maa ka pyar!

Later in the evening, as the train rushed through the lush green farmlands, I saw
two small shirtless kids, chasing each other on the muddy fields. It must not have
been an easy run considering they were barefooted, the fields were filled with
water and it was raining slightly. But they seemed to enjoy the drizzle with vigor
only children can have. I wondered- give them a pair of shoes, put them on a
racing track and give them a proper purpose; who is to stop them from flying!

In the distant horizon, the sun was calling it a day as it set behind the hills. The
spirited kids looked as if they were running into the sunset. If only they were
allowed to rise in the first place!

Nihar Panigrahi
Dept. of Mechanical Engineering