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A HATE MAIL by Abhirakshit




By Rachit Rastogi

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Creative Writing Winners



Awesomeness lost. Our story begins a few years ago… when all was good and there was peace. The flames of the eternal fire, rekindled, leapt high and their warmth nurtured prosperity and goodwill among all the inhabitants of the walled city. Poets from faraway lands came to the city to tell tales of carnivals and dreams. The geeks rejoiced and commerce flourished and neither one suffered in the shadow of the other. Residents from different clans sought expression of their cultural prowess through flamboyant displays and constructed imposing obelisks as beacons of their sovereignty. Novice younglings were duly initiated through ritualistic customs to hone their skills of survival in the harsh unforgiving world beyond the wall. Fierce battles for leadership ensued ensuring the most deserving were anointed to the Council. The Elders blessed the land with their wisdom and refrained from intrusion in petty affairs. All was good and there was peace… And then, taking the Antaragni ‘09 tagline too literally, people sought out change. And with this change, came a sense of despair. A dark age befell the city. The Elders, seeking utopia, imposed ruthless rules and free will was crushed under tyranny. The Awesomeness had begun its slow yet steady decline. With each passing year, the novice younglings were shielded from a nonexistent threat while the Elders spoon fed them a life of comfort and care, far from the vindictive world outside. In due process the splendor and glory of the city dwindled and the clans’ lost esteem never returned. New clans sprouted out of the chaos and endeavored to capture the respect of the fellow clans but in vain. The age old customs forgotten, the novices were left in the dark. The geeks, in their overwhelming majority, rose to power over the enterprising whilst they cowered in the caves yonder. The fire within, fuelled by angst rather than creative spark, continued to dispel warmth in these dark times...

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MUSINGS a section of poetic works Rain & Winter by Subhajit Gupta

Is My Life Merely A Struggle? by Pragyanandesh N. Tripathi Everyday I struggle..

Rain I'll stay by the shade, and view the rain from a distance how soothing would it be, and calmed, be my senses This time I'll not plunge and wet myself again, the cold would sap my strength perhaps cause a little pain...

Winter Teardrops crystallize on my cheek as I see the fading light a shiver sweeps through my veins as the dying sun heralds a frozen night. My mind paints a barren country whose tale was never told and as the white tide engulfs it A lone soul wanders in a sea of cold. Overcoming anxious rays of lost hope on a day when all the fears died uncoupling, releasing the last strand, my winter finally arrived...

I struggle, I struggle and I struggle I struggle to wake up most mornings I struggle to fall asleep at night Every aspect of my life seems to be a struggle I struggle to remember I struggle to forget I struggle to live I struggle to stay alive I struggle to keep alive A little sweet voice in my head haunted me once I longed for understanding But the voice was determined to keep me down Where is the joy? Where is the happiness? And where is the peace of mind?

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Kabhi to‌ By Prateek Singh Lodhi

Dry Petals in a Dusty Diary by Debosmita Chaudhuri Crimson petals, dusty smell of memories The long monsoon walks Holding hands, lost eyes Memories, long-forgotten, yet alive Alive in silent corners Aching to be let free Duty renders me helpless Wiping a tear, stifling a sob, I try to forget The smiles were meant to vanish Promises, meant to be broken; Life never grants all that we wish A sudden flashback, quivering lips. We chose to break apart Independent dreams, parallel ways Each wanted to fly, to make our mark Each said, love can wait, success can't. Now it's been days, months and long lonely years Alleged success and pretentious splendor Still a frayed cord hangs loose somewhere Its too late, the heart fears. No way that leads back, doors shut with time; I close the diary over the dry crumbling petals. They say, the colour of love deepens with time... The petals, now dark and dry, silently smile Mocking me, us, our fate As i hold my forget.


Sounds & Silence






IIT Kanpur

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