Littera Scripta Manet

 Being a poet isn't a blessing,  it's a sin.  I do not fear hell because I know it very well.  It breaks me down from the inside  until i'm nothing but cracked pieces  carelessly forced into a whole, pieces with edges which cut  my heart and it bleeds and bleeds and  bleeds until there's only white.  Bereft of peace.  Even in my silence there is chaos.  Being a poet isn't a blessing it's a sin.  I do not want the heaven,  which exists beneath my skin.  It stamps the impressions of the past  on my mind and the stones of the present  on my soul to make sure I'm never able to  escape, run away, fly into nothingness,  no.  You feel emotions I drink them, gulp them down with my eyes closed,  red, yellow, grey, blue cups a day,  like they're the poison I need to live.  I am addicted to my feelings.  Being a poet isn't a blessing it's a sin.  I am not living in art, I am bare...

Being the homo sapiens of the 21st century, most of us are so modernized (or westernized) in our ways that we often forget about the existence and crucial importance of traditions around us, barely surviving in the forests away from our blind eyes, perhaps.  A tribe which goes by the name Yanomami happens to be one of them. It's amusing to think that even after lacking many of the resources we consider essential, they live in a way which not only saves the near future but also allows them to accept and acknowledge each other thus leading to beautiful harmony.    Who are the Yanomami people? The word, ‘Yanomami’ means human being. They’re basically the largest isolated tribe in South America (more specifically, Brazil and Venezuela). Like most tribes on the continent, they possibly migrated across the Bering Straits between Asia and America some 15,000 years ago, making their way slowly down to South America. Currently, their total population stands at around 38,000. They’...

Dear Diary, I’ve so many questions in my head but I can’t voice them in fear of the inevitable: disappointment and brutality. However, no one can stop me from penning them down even though I often find myself doubting the strength of a pen as compared to a sword. Yesterday, I went out with a mask my mother stitched from the cloth of her old saree, and our creased ration card to buy a few vegetables when I was mocked and bullied by some kids I’ve never really talked to before. They called me vicious names and claimed that I was actually carrying the virus inside of me. Diary, I do not know anything about the deserted streets except for something about a disease that might kill me if I were ever to get infected, and thus, I ran home to my mom because I was so scared I couldn’t control my tears. If I knew what I was going to find, I’d have probably done something questionable.  My father had  died on the way back to our village because he fell asleep on the railway t...

Between 2 beautiful rivers sat a lovely vast land where trees embellished the North, and the South was all sand. Its resources were less, as limited as the infrequent rains. Its climate was very dry, but it still had advanced drains. Sumer, Akkad, Assyria and Babylona, were the major empires of this land. This land called Mesopotamia, where the temples were extremely grand. Sumerian was the main language, and for it, Cuneiform was invented. But the many who couldn't write Sumerian, were unconsciously and silently tormented. So many Gods, the people worshipped that each city had its own. And they claimed it was their God who chose, the one worthy of the throne. Sumerians were the clever ones, they invented irrigation, plow and the wheel. They settled, started agriculture, and nature allowed them to heal. Now for some interesting facts, both men and women wore paint! Kubaba was the only female who ruled, Enheduanna was a poetess and a saint. Some believed...

Rivers, as important to a country as blood is to humans, are heading right towards the wrecks of humanity, the burning hot pits of doom and what is being done to stop them? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Yamuna (also known as Jamna), one of the holiest and most sacred rivers of India is also the most polluted. That is the strength of our faith. It is the fifth longest river in India, has been sustaining livelihood to millions of people ever since history, supplies 70% of Delhi’s potable water and yet, much to an environmentalist’s indignation, has received absolutely no practical consideration. Delhi dumps almost 58% of its waste into the river which makes one wonder if it can be labeled a river at all. Yamuna flows over a distance of 1376 kilometers; it starts from the glacier Yamunotri in the lower Himalayas in Uttarakhand and meets the Ganges at Triveni Sangam, Allahbad. Further, it enters Delhi through the village Palla and traverses a distance of 48 kilometers through the capit...

"India is a hopeless country and I absolutely hate it. I'm gonna shift to the US after school because I cannot tolerate the mentality here anymore." "Oh, did you listen to the new pop song by Ariana Grande? Damn man, I'm in love." "You listen to Bengali songs? Actually? That's so old, listen to English songs bro, grow up, be cool." "Why do you even wanna watch a Hindi film? Bollywood is extremely horrible, let's check out the new English film instead! At least it'll be worth it." "Oh! you do not know the meaning of this simple English word? Dude, coolness increases as the vocabulary of Hindi decreases, you embarrass me." Such is the culture of India. Lost amidst the trends of the magnificent western world, with our own personal identity absolutely forgotten, we're sailing on the oceans of approval far from our land of origin with no plans to return. What is the use of existence when we cannot be grateful to...