Some glimpses into the creative writing skills of students at NSoJ
The romance of a dream
In this dream, we are sitting on the sidewalk in the rain,
Our wet cigarettes dangling off our smiles.In this dream we are
talking about past lovers
Like their ghosts don’t bother us anymore.
We carefully sip on our tea, pretending our lives are movies.
In this dream, we talk about Calcutta,
About home and missed connections.
Our words dripping with nostalgia
Of a time before us.
Momentarily speaking of our fears, and then-
Quickly reassuring ourselves that we’ll get there,
In this dream, we realise how different we are,
Yet how our innate longings are paired.
In this dream, the rain stops, the sky clears,
And we leave a little bit of ourselves in the small earthen cups,
Promising to come back, another rainy day.
A love scene -The girl under the banyan tree
I found her sitting under that banyan tree on a rainy evening. She was
looking into a book and crying. Although I tried to take my eyes off
her, I couldn’t. Her wet curls covered her face and in that red muddy
dress, she was looking very attractive. So I thought, ‘I ought to go
and give her an umbrella; ask her the reason she was there’. After
waiting for some time, I decided to go and talk to her…
“Why are you sitting here in this rain? Are you okay? Go home, it’s
getting late.” Without looking at me, she asked: “What’s the time?” “It’s 10:30 pm” “Just 10:30 pm!”
“Yes.” I tried to look into her eyes by bending towards her. She replied very sarcastically … “Yes, I can’t see that.”
I turned back to go back home. Hundred of questions were dancing in my
mind! “Who is she? Why is she here?”
I heard a voice from behind, “Ravi!”
Surprised I turned back, “Rachna, you?”
And then the whole real of my past flashed in front of my eyes.
I forgot all the achievements of my life. The only thing I could think
of was about the day when I had left her crying under the banyan tree
of my village and come to the city to work and never really got back
I couldn’t resist her questioning eyes, but wanted to hug her tightly.
The pain was evident in her wet eyes and I had no courage to face her.
I just sat down on my knees and tears filled my eyes. With those
innocent eyes she looked and sat down in front of me. Innocently she
“Why, Ravi?” “Sorry, Rachna!” That was all I could say. She was a
beautiful soul who forgave me for whatever I did to her in the past
two years, just because of those few tears of guilt in my eyes. She
said in a very adorable vice, “I still trust you.” “Give me this
second chance. I promise I will…” I was saying this to her when she
covered my mouth with her hand. “I love you,” she hugged me tightly.
“Love you, too.” It took lots of courage for me to say this after a
gap of two years.
I miss you; Do you?
That afternoon when we sat on those bean bags;
Facing each other;
Bonding over glasses of cranberry juice.
The tweeting birds, the falling dusk;
The sunny hills, the shedding leaves;
Giving us company;
Even as we idly looked for words to speak;
Gladly let the familiar silence take over.
Your animated eyes;
They looked so beautiful.
They turned red every time you burst into laughter.
You scolding me for skipping meals;
You laughing at my silly jokes;
Our first ice-cream together;
Our first stroll on the roads;
I miss everything;
Even when you are half a world away;
I go stand near the window;
I occasionally sit on that broken bench;
I go and have ice-cream;
And I amble across the streets;
For I miss you so much;
Black money should be curbed, said the Prime Minister
Said his intent was not sinister.
Banned were certain currency notes
The economy put foot on a tumultuous boat
Affected it most the poor and middle class
Who did not hesitate to cry farce, farce!
Going cashless seems to be the new norm
Mitron, when will you learn to conform?
He said it was for long term gain
But all the common man got was unbearable pain
Long queues snaking out of ATMs,
Vijay Shekhar was rubbing his hands with glee at Paytm.
As the RBI shifted goal posts,
The flip-flop saffron brigade said-
He deserves a toast.
50 days have come and gone,
In his game of purification, common man is but a pawn.
They banned notes of thousand and five hundred.
Black money hoarders are now dead, Modi said.
The harried public stood in queues.
For the commoners, the struggle was no news.
Bear some pain for greater gains, mitron,
So that the filthy rich can be dethroned.
They silenced the few who complained.
“The jawaans guarding the borders are strained.”
86 % of the rupee has been stripped of value.
The destruction of a cash-dependent economy is no issue.
Several U-turns were made by the RBI.
It is the Reverse Bank of India, we sigh.
As a surprise in the midnight
Modi made a highlight
Two thousand notes got the rank
And thousands of notes rushed in to bank
Long queues in front of atms
Then the star become paytm
The aim is to make India cashless
But the people become clueless.
Ardra S Krishna