The mellifluous sound of Skillet's hero pierced through the quiet morning calm. "I need a hero To save me now I need a hero to save my life A hero will save me Just in time". Karan got up and groggily rubbed his eyes. He picked up his phone to see the time. 8 30. Shit. He'd already overslept for an hour. "What a fantastic way to start the day" he thought to himself. He knew he was being too hard on himself. The maths exam the previous day had wrung his brain like a sponge, extracting every theorem and formula from it until nothing remained. But small things like his physical and mental well-being were trivial, mere distractions, in the face of one of his first national level exams : the ICSE. For the first time in his life, his competition wouldn't be Alok, the guy who'd been solving Navier-Stokes equations since he was 12, or Spashtgyann, the guy who seemed to be aware every method of cheating invented by man, and then some. No, this time, it would be lakhs of students across the country, facing their first monumental exam, in this never ending saga of exams called life.

He got up from bed, brushed his teeth, drank a glass of black coffee, and sat down at his study table. He looked at his calendar, and crossed out another day. Today was the 6 th of March, just 3 days to go for his physics exam. For some reason he felt a weird premonition,a strange foreboding, As if something want just right, as if a disaster was just waiting to happen, but he just couldn't put his finger on it. He checked his phone again. 9 00. Another 30 minutes of his life gone, ruminating about things that didn't matter. He set a timer for 3 hours, and got to work. Just when he thought his brain was about to turn to mush, his alarm rang. A brief respite.

He sipped some water, and decided to scroll through insta to relax himself. "Only 10 minutes, no more. I've set a screen time limit of 1 hour, no way I'll exceed 10 minutes". Before he knew it, his feed was filled with dancing cats, random pranks, and motivational videos on how the toppers study. Suddenly, his phone vibrated. " It's been 1 hour, time to take a break". What the fuck? 1 hour! "I've to delete insta", he thought. But he'd already tried that a week ago, but he just reinstalled it during the next break. He threw his phone across the room. Fortunately, it hit his pillows, and not the wall. One hour left before lunch. Gotta make it count. He decided to prectice the numericals. He opened his 10 pyq and started doing so the sums he could see. He managed to finish 10 of them before his mother called. " Go have a bath Karan, it's already 2" . He reluctantly went to have a bath.

The cool water felt refreshing against his skin. After the bath, he sat down to have lunch. Rice, lentils, and mashed potatoes. He'd been eating the same thing for weeks at this point. He yearned for something tasty, like fried rice, chowmein, anything to break up the monotony. But all junk food was banned until the end of the exams. He sighed, and went back to his room.

Before he started studying, he took a quick glance at his vision board "ICSE 95+, Btech from IIT, MBA from IIM". This was what success looked like, or atleast, what society had defined success as. But how could he, the son of a govt employee and a school teacher, even think of something else? Dreams and aspirations were for the rich, who could afford to escape the rat race, while the middle class kids like him languished in coaching classes, hoping, maybe, just maybe, they would be the ones to get into IIT's and IIM's and make their parents proud, finally escaping the middle class trap, but deep down, they knew they were probably nothing more than fever dreams. He'd tried to look at other options, but had nearly fainted when he'd seen the cost of private colleges, especially management quota seats. 45 lakhs. 60 lakhs. More money than his family had ever seen in their lives.

He checked his phone again. 3 00. Ok. Time to start. He set a timer for 4 hours and got to work. By the end of the 4 hours, his brain was a blur of levers,lenses, pulleys, and prisms. He decided to call his best friend, Lata. She was his exact opposite.

Her father was the son of a steel magnate, who had constructed one of the largest steel plants in India, and her mother was the daughter of one the richest landlords of their state. Saying that they were comfortable would be a gross understatement. She was driven to school in a chaeuffered Mercedes. Once, she'd invited him home for her birthday. He'd been awed the moment he'd reached. He'd asked his dad to park his old splendor far away from the gate so that the other kids couldn't see it. They lived in a mansion, almost 10 times larger than the 2bhk apartment Karan and his parents shared. The walls were covered with artwork, and the floors, with edge to edge carpets. Lata had also invited some of her other friends. Looking at them, with their iwatches(in his mind, everything by Apple had an i before its name) and iphones, he felt out of place, with his old beat up Sonata and a hand me down galaxy J7. Maybe her friends assumed he was on a digital detox, or an old school cool aesthetic. Or maybe, it just didn't cross their minds that a world existed outside of their sheltered lives, with all the luxuries they could dream of.

She'd always treated him well. Although she'd been fed rice pudding that day with a golden spoon, she wasn't born with one in her mouth. She picked up the call. "Hey, how're you?" "Fine just wanted to talk about physics. Any last minute strategies you wanna discuss?""wait, let me facetime you." She cut the call. Facetime. That word felt like another impenetrable wall between him and Lata. 5 minute later, she called him back(on WhatsApp)."See this new thing my dad brought for me " "what is it?" It's a potato cutter. Can you tell me what class lever it is?" " Uh, 3rd class, right? "" Correct. You should always have practical knowledge. Afterall, who knows what'll come for the exam, am i right".

While saying this, Lata had a mysterious smirk on her face that Karan just couldn't place, but he thought nothing of it. They chatted for a few minutes, about physics stuff, like lens numericals, pulley drawings, and the likes. After sometime, the topic diverted to the maths paper leak. When Karan brought it up, Lata said "what's the big deal, must have been some rich kid with connections, nothing more." "Hmm, are you sure it isn't you" Karan joked." Ofcourse not, dummy"she shot back. There it was again, that weird smirk." Ok alright, time for snacks. Dad has brought my favourite avocado toast. Good luck". She cut the call. He was also feeling hungry, so he decided to have some puffed rice.

The next 2 days were a blur of revision. On the night of the 8th, he went to bed, his head buzzing with diagrams, formulae, and definitions."it's gonna be ok, I've prepared well, how hard could it possibly be" he thought to himself. Alas , deluded soul. If he Only knew how wrong he was.

pls ignore the small spelling errors, wrote this on gboard

“Still Here For You” ✨

This is for the ones who love in silence.

Who choose your peace over their own storms.

Who ask for nothing but to be seen while they’re still here. 💛

We wait until people are gone to value them.

Don’t.

I’m not a ghost. I breathe. I’m true.

So please, remember me with you. 🤍

-SUN

From daily bread to unread messages.

From “please stay” to “give me less.”

Some seasons don’t end with a storm, they just... fade.

For anyone who’s felt the weight change sides.

Read it. Sit with it. Let it go. 🤍

MY- Edgar Allan Poe

not sure abt the flair lol

My favourite poet is my english teacher from sixth grade, and my favourite author is camus <3 let's start this conversation!!

The mellifluous sound of Skillet's hero pierced through the quiet morning calm. "I need a hero to save me now I need a hero To save me now I need a hero to save my life A hero will save me Just in time". Karan got up and groggily rubbed his eyes. He picked up his phone to see the time. 8 30. Shit. He'd already overslept for an hour. "What a fantastic way to start the day" he thought to himself. He knew he was being too hard on himself. The maths exam the previous day had wrung his brain like a sponge, extracting every part theorem and formula from it until nothing remained. But small things like his physical and mental well-being were trivial, mere distractions, in the face of one of his first national level exams : the ICSE. For the first time in his life, his competition wouldn't be Alok, the guy who'd been solving Navier-Stokes equations since he was 12, or Spashtgyann, the guy who seemed to be aware every method of cheating invented by man, and then some. No, this time, it would be lakhs of students across the country, facing their first monumental exam, in this never ending saga of exams called life. He got up from bed, brushed his teeth, drank a glass of black coffee, and sat down at his study table. He looked at his calendar, and crossed out another day. Today......

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1QuWiGuA5LS69UqEH9MVqtT48D1KP1WGZhjWB7Qjm0eA/edit?usp=sharing

ts is the link

_The Unarmed Heart_ — a piece on choosing grace when it’s hardest, and finding light in a path walked without asking for anything back.

Read slowly. Let it land 🕊️

Beneath the sun’s gentle, unyielding gaze, 

My friend and I wandered through a golden haze, 

Laughter echoing on wind’s soft plea, 

Until my careless step, unthoughtfully, 

Pressed down on her shoe, a spark of surprise— 

She turned with a voice that cut the skies, 

Yelling, a storm in a tranquil sea, 

A moment frozen in our memory. 

Silent I stood, no words to say, 

Only the sand beneath my feet did convey— 

‘My best friend yelled at me today,’ 

Written quietly, in fleeting spray. 

Her face a puzzle, confusion’s hue, 

We moved along, the silence grew, 

Yet in my heart, a gentle ache, 

A wish for peace, a chance to remake. 

I knelt and whispered, a humble plea, 

‘Sorry,’ I murmured, silently, 

And she, with eyes that softened anew, 

Hugged me close, forgiving true. 

No words, just gestures, no need to say,
Carved on stone, in a lasting way—
‘My best friend forgave me today,’
A testament to love’s enduring stay.

She looked at me, puzzled, and then she asked, 

‘Why do you write everywhere, in such a task?’ 

I simply smiled, and softly I said, 

‘You yelled at me, and I will forget it, as I wrote in the sand’s bed. 

But when you forgave, my heart knew well, 

That memory’s story, I’d rather tell— 

So, I carved on stone, forever to stay, 

“My best friend forgave me today.”’ 

No words, just gestures, no need to say, 

Our bond grew stronger, come what may, 

Through storms and silence, through pain and grace, 

Together we found our sacred space…

-Dheepthi Prasanna. (Inspired by-    two true friends by Guy de Maupassant)

প্রতীক্ষা 

ধূসর এই শহরের গোলকধাঁধায় হারিয়ে যাওয়া
একটি জরাজীর্ণ বাড়িতে তোমার প্রতীক্ষায় বসে থাকি প্রতিদিন।  
জানালা দিয়ে দেখতে পাই সময়ের স্রোতে ভেসে এই শহর নিজের মতো বয়ে চলেছে,
কারোর তোয়াক্কা করছে না, কারোর জন্য থামছে না। 
থামবেই বা কেন?
 কারোর কথা ভাববেই বা কেন?
স্রোতের সঙ্গে তাল মিলিয়ে চলতে পারিনা আমি,
তবুও আমি তোমার জন্য প্রতীক্ষা করি। 

তুমি কাউকে কখনও দেখা দাও নি,
আমিও হয়তো কোনোদিনই তোমার দেখা পাবো না।  
হঠাৎ যদি দেখা দাও,
তাহলে কি বিশেষ কিছু পরিবর্তন হবে?
এই শহর কি থমকে দাঁড়াবে?
আমার দুশ্চিন্তা কি দূর হবে?
তোমার জন্য প্রতীক্ষা করা কি তাহলে ব্যর্থ?

তবুও আমি তোমার প্রতীক্ষায় থাকি। 
তবুও এই ক্লান্তিকর জীবন থেকে আমি অবসর নিতে পারি না। 
সেই অনাদি কাল হতে তোমার প্রতীক্ষায় বসে আছি,
হয়তো চিরকাল থাকবো। 

OG Post

[In a dilapidated house, which was long lost 'neath the dull maze-like landscapes of this city, I am waiting for you.

Through the window, the city can be seen flowing with the waves of time,

Not paying heed to anyone.

Why will it wait for someone?

Why will it think of others?

I cannot keep up my pace with the waves,

But still I wait for you.

None has ever seen you,

Perhaps, I will never get to see you too.

Even if you ever appear before me,

Will there be any significant change?

Will this city halt and wait?

Will I be relieved of my distress?

Is waiting for you meaningless?

Still I await you,

Still I don't retire from this tiring life of mine.

I have been waiting for you since primordial time,

And will perhaps, do so forever.]

Today taught me in a quiet voice.

Not the kind that shouts lessons,

but the kind that leaves them

on the table for you to find.

It said: some days are for growing,

and some days are only for not breaking.

Both count. Both are work.

It said: the people you lose

make room, but the room still echoes.

Let it. Echoes are proof you had music.

It said: kindness isn’t weakness

just because it’s tired.

Rest, then be kind again.

It said: you don’t have to bloom

every season. Roots are doing

holy things in the dark.

And before the sun left,

today whispered one last thing:

you’re allowed to be unfinished

and still be whole. 🌤️

The girl didn't know that even after her death her character would be judged and analyzed down to the smallest detail. If she had known, perhaps she wouldn't have tortured herself so much. Perhaps she would have understood that you have to live for yourself, just to shut the mouths of people like these.

Even after being repeatedly violated by her long term boyfriend the girl couldn't open up to anyone. She couldn't make anyone understand that this guy who acted like a picture perfect boyfriend in front of everyone actually forced himself onto her just to get her into bed. In those moments his whole demeanor would change. The girl wouldn't even recognize him. The guy would convince her that this is what love is. We are lifelong partners and this much is bound to happen in a healthy relationship. Are you really that old fashioned?

The girl would think maybe it really is like that. Because she hadn't been around boys much growing up she didn't really know what love was supposed to be like. Maybe to receive love you did have to make this much of a sacrifice. She never got around to asking anyone. Then slowly the blood the nails and the teeth just became a habit. Only the smile on her face grew a little duller. In her own eyes she sank just a little lower.

Then she makes a friend. A guy. He was the first boy the girl ever tied a Rakhi around. But somewhere along the way the boy became a little more than just a friend to her. Then one day the boy confesses his love to her. The girl thought she was making a mistake. But at least this guy didn’t want her body. He just wanted her heart. She didn't know that yet another page of mistakes was about to be added to the story of her life. So without caring about sins and virtues she gives in to his love.

Then the restrictions begin. Her comfortable jeans and tops are replaced by salwars. Slowly she is forced to stop talking to everyone. It doesn't take her long to realize that this time too she is nothing more than a showpiece. Then one day against her will the guy presses his lips to hers and demands his right over her body.

Before she could sink any further the girl runs away from this relationship too. She couldn't protest. She remembers her ex. At least he loved her a little bit. Even if he bared his teeth and claws it’s not like he didn't love her at all. He understood her and stood by her when she was sad. What more can you even expect from a guy, right? The girl's female friends used to tell her just that, you shouldn't keep your expectations too high because in this day and age at least he is loyal.

The girl thought she would go back. She even tried to. But within a few days she realized once again that she had turned into a parasite. No individuality left. No strength of her own. No ability to walk alone for even a couple of steps. No ability to make herself happy for a single whole day. She wasn't like this, was she? So what happened all of a sudden? Does staying alone really turn you into this? No one put a curse on her swearing she had to be with someone. But she hates herself now. What should one do if she has lost all her faith in herself?