Poetry 2013 Winners Featured Writers

Flash Fiction

Poetry

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Long Story

First Prize	Second Prize	Third Prize
Saima Afreen	Anupam Sinha	Vinita Agrawal
Longlist	Shortlist
Featured Writers
Max Babi	Uzma Falak	Vysakh R
Swechcha Ponnekanti	Shloka Shankar	Sai Somuri
Most Popular	Sayantini Bhattacharya

Poetry 2013, Featured Writer Sai Somuri

Divinely Crooked

a child a hundred rugged and a zero sphere
a ripe senior a hundred sphere and a zero rugged
an ageless mystic a hundred fractal and a hundred fractal

Poetry 2013 Shortlist, Babita Chakraborty

A Void

I may be right. I may be wrong.
But every time, I've seen a 'void' in your voice.
A sense of emptiness which I've seen and felt,
Even being in the company of others and with friends.
A search to belong; a search for love;
a search for someone who can cross the barrier of self for your love.
An unnamed song for an unnamed feeling,
Which is certainly queer, yet beautiful with its forte?
A desire to have that 'special' relation, which you're uncertain about.
Value your emotions the most, than what the 'so-called' society demand.
Not everyone in this (in) sane world will understand it,

But you've to make a choice between your affection and this double-faced society of beings

Poetry 2013 Longlist, Aniesha Brahma

Hero

Rain.
It falls down, relentlessly.
And I stand. Stand alone.
Looking into space.
Into the beyond.
A foot outside.
Waving temptingly, in nothing.
Should I jump now?
Dressed in white,
Beauty of another kind.
Smiling.
I'll go into the next world.
So tired of this one.
Because I'm tired of always,
Always having to answer.
Always having to decide.
Forced to go against my wishes,
Because I am forever thinking
Of what I've done "wrong".
Or what others consider to be wrong.
Arm, now outstretched.
I'm smiling.
Soon,
all this will be behind me.
I'll jump to my ecstasy.
The other foot is about to join,
the one already suspended.
When someone comes along,
and pulls me by the waist.
"Don't give up yet," he whispers
in my ear, "I'm just around the corner."
I close my eyes,
Feeling the tight embrace, and warm
breath on the my neck.
Sweet sound that rings next to my ear,
One which I'd not heard
For so long.
"What is left to live for?" I ask, "Why
do you keep coming back - everytime I decide
to bring things to an end?
Why do you force me to chase pavements?"
"You're not crazy, though you love
to believe otherwise.
You're still a wonderful person.
Stop believing in their lies." And for a minute,
I can almost feel,
the lips pressed to my rain-kissed skin.
And as I take a step back,
his shadowy memory is gone.
I back away from the edge,
From where I'd have happily jumped.
Down to the depths of an unknown,
forbidden leisure.
"You'll always be my hero," I whisper,
"You'll always save me - even from myself."
Though you're nothing but a figment
of my own memory,
You're still the one who rescues me.
When I can't even save myself.

Poetry 2013 Shortlist, Nisha Kapoor

Ferociouass Voraciouass!
 
His augustass presenceass meantass lamentass
such an ass!

The bolderattis got infected with fearattis
on hearing his malignant roarattis

They called him the precursorat, of the order worserat
of doom-ville
built on sore sill

Kill kill we all will!
Our augustine presidentine
Mr. FelonyFilleen
with a plannin pristine

"You go forrst
see his chicken roast
spring in after Prost!"
announced the royal host

"I order some fake water
cause the chicken catches me hotter
you grab the serving platter, flip-flop its batter
behave you are smarter and overtake the cater

Then smash the chickenatti
on the highness' party

His pride vain, will see him slain
Such a simple brain to end disdain"

Poetry 2013 Shortlist, Chandrika Krishnan

If Only

If only I had changed your nappy
Instead of your nanny;
If only I had been at your teething
Instead of your granny;
If only I had kissed your tears away,
Instead of being away,
If only I had been with you,
Instead of chasing a mirage of Money!
If only I had been at your annual function,
If only I had been at your graduation.
If only I had shared in your success,
Instead of thinking success was Money!
Oh! Son I was miles away at all your milestone,
If only I could turn back the clock,
If only I was given one more chance,
I would have been there for all your wants,
My only question is son,
When I missed so much of your life,
Why did I not miss your funeral too?

Poetry 2013, Most Popular Sayantini Bhattacharya

Terra Incognita

An early-monsoon wind of hope,
Leads me to the greens,
Phoenix’s abode, merry-land.
I be fledged, I be pleased.
I feel elated with everything.
Name-less blossoms here and there,
Blooms to catch me, my soul
Reflects that part of bliss.
Purpled grief, blued twinge, and,
Bit of golden despair retrogress.
The sunlight makes trails gleam.
A secret cul-de-sac opens up,
Ends up with wonder, scepticism,
That where a place unseen yet,
Lied still stealthily, out of reach.
Promptly rises a silhouette,
With a sense of cold-breath.
No shadow it was, a piece of cloud,
Grey in colour and so in hue,
Waiting for a sudden outburst.
Mist comes, mist goes, transient,
Sun plays hide-n-seek,
Gently hovers around me with mirth,
Fills me with heavenly brightness.
My eyes stare astounded.
I am filled with ecstasy,
But my mind displeased,
It’s the time to part,
My embodied soul cries,
I must be here again and again.

Poetry 2013, Featured Writer Shloka Shankar

Unabashed

Life had passed her by
While she stood still,
Fragmented and hurt.
Splashed with colours of every hue,
She was resolute in her stoic
Embrace of reality.
Like every other woman,
She wore her mask of happiness,
And rivalled Eve as she once again sought
The forbidden fruit;
This time, to break free from
Her manacled existence.
Naked, with wisps of hair about her,
She clawed out of the man-made
Prison called society,
The very image of Godiva.
She looked at herself in the mirror
And saw the shards of
Her existence shatter,
Smiling a ghostly half-smile,
Pale and wounded,
Yet victorious.

Poetry 2013, Featured Writer Swechcha Ponnekanti

God's Little Rejects

Like dervishes they whirled Standing, sitting, lying on the floor Rolling in their ugly, messy pain Scattering it everywhere mindlessly

Then the pearly gates opened
Quietly, without fanfare
The time for inventories
and final reconciliations was near
In stark contrast to the ugliness outside, she stood.
Imperial. Ethereal. Ghost-like.
Her eyes held no promise
No germ of hope
They clamored for her attention
Voices rising to a fevered pitch
"Long have I waited, wanted, wasted.
The time has come.
Give to me the fruit of my labour.
My flesh and blood.
The culmination of all the excesses I have borne."
With a subtle inclination of her head
she bade the proceedings begin
Soon they were rolled out one by one
and the roll call began
Baby of X:
Beautifully formed
Rose-bud lips. Candy floss hair
Dimpled arms. Pink pudgy perfect feet
Comatose. Near dead
No less dead than the truly dead
Baby of Y:
Blue like the sky
Like gloom
Like starved blood
Cheek nestled on a pillow
fashioned of gauze, blood, and a tortured little hand
Smiling in sleep, jaw working
Angel-like
Irretrievably broken. Perhaps.
Baby of Z:
Homely, unprepossessing
Convulsing intermittently
Dribbling and swallowing green froth
Misfiring nerves
directing new born limbs
in an unseemly, uncoordinated dance
And so it went. Babies, babies, many more babies.
Tortured babies, fractured babies, violated babies, hopeless babies, unwanted babies
Babies crushed under a burden too large
Unbearably large
So many babies
Dawn crumbled to dusk; tears dried to salt
The assignments and deliveries
came to their logical end
It was over for the day
The keening wails had ceased
The clamour had subsided
They took stock. Calmly. Numbly.
They turned to her as one and said
"Tell us what to do."
She seemed baffled.
"Don't you understand?
The stories have already been written
There's nothing here.
Go home."
Her eyes brooked no questions
They wailed anew
Beating their chests like broken drums
She smiled her beatific deaf smile
and closed the door.
Firmly. Unequivocally.

Poetry 2013, Featured Writer Vysakh R

ALVE OSO T
BUCB XIRUE
HUUL DSOOY
AEW FOW KN
ROITSGLMHA

TO SOLVE A
BUCB XIRUE
HUUL DSOOY
AEW FOW KN
ROITSGLMHA

TO SOLVE A
RUBIX CUBE
HUUL DSOOY
AEW FOW KN
ROITSGLMHA

TO SOLVE A
RUBIX CUBE
YOU SHOULD
AEW FOW KN
ROITSGLMHA

TO SOLVE A
RUBIX CUBE
YOU SHOULD
KNOW A FEW
ROITSGLMHA

TO SOLVE A
RUBIX CUBE
YOU SHOULD
KNOW A FEW
ALGORITHMS

Poetry 2013, Featured Writer Uzma Falak

Azadi

I liked your face, bronzed by time and burden
I liked the gleam in your eyes—of truth, of fight.
When you asked me: How does a free Kashmir look to you?
I was only looking at your sculptured hands
I wanted to hold your hand and tell you
about all my dreams--wordless, clockless.
When I saw your worn out chapals and your carefree feet,
as if still dangling in the ancient waters reflecting a promise
I wanted to ask, what do they mean to you—earth and freedom.
Your eyes when filled mine,
I saw the dream in my eyes reflected in yours
We carry burdens of our own
I don’t have a country
You don’t belong in yours
Your hands reminded me of a kite maker I dreamt about
I liked the way you carelessly picked your words
and the smile that escaped you when I laughed in hysteria, in madness.
When you hurriedly wrote Mustafa on your notebook and looked at me puzzled,
And then as if recalling some childhood tales, your mind summoned verses, perhaps of the muezzin who would pass you patting your head,
your face resurrected from a dead dream.
When you muttered secular, your lips pursed,
I heard sounds, of crumbling illusions.
I wanted to know
what was your face like,
when you were a child ?
Playing in the forests that no longer belong to you
and your people.
I don’t harbor hope,
I wanted to ask, do you?
When I grew frantic talking about dead and disappeared,                                                      
you reassured the promise a dream is impregnated with!
Of Azaadi
Of my country
I only thought about you,
Your hands, the lines on it, the map, the country on your hands!
Your long strides reminded me, both of us, have a long journey to undertake
The caravans have just begun and it is a long dark night before we reach our country!

Poetry 2013, Featured Writer Max Babi

 Blue Skies

The white canopy above flutters tattered
Hues of blues peep gingerly out like
small faces
anxious for absent parents.

Darker patches brood, while the wind unseen
wields its potent brush,
wildly blending dreams with nightmares.

My eyes like renegade soldiers,
seem all lost.

Poetry 2013, Third Prize, Vinita Agarwal

Thoughts

Thoughts are peeler like, they scrape nerves
or like a drill machine wear holes
in a soggy handkerchief brain
they are Noah’s ark of sorrow and grief
Sheltering one of every kind
as if arresting the species of time.
Thoughts use you. They tame the lower lip, attack the upper
zone-out eyes, rake cuticles, crush phalanges
Re-hash every awkward moment
wonder what went wrong where
thoughts are the socket
where penchant remains plugged-in forever.
In the boulevard of thoughts, scents linger
dangle from fingertips like blooms from tree branches
stifle lung’s traffic of breaths
blister the tongue, stain earth’s carpet
punish the winds.
Thoughts are steel to be chewed
a sword at work
like acid against the lining of the stomach
thoughts dig up the 3 am. soil of night
and palpitate softly at the hearth of dawn
like a pound of flesh heavy on day’s back.
Just occasionally, thoughts are some loose night air
a cool moonlit oasis amidst churning chaotic days
they loosen the bricks from walls, flex the hands of time
lend speed to life, brighten its gait. Just occasionally.

Poetry 2013, Second Prize, Anupam Sinha

Multiverse

Stretched between
wakefulness and oblivion;
identity's rebellion
and sleep's persuasion;
I fiddled with the
bitter cold star inside me.
Dead star with dead dreams at its core.

Dead dreams and immovable dreams;
kinds that do not collide
to trigger life;
warping and folding on themselves.
Under the dead weights
of their doomed expectations,
they dived into the unknown dimensions of me.

Wormholes opened
into the unknown beings of me,
unseen vistas, unexplored terrains
and starry skies studded
with unfulfilled desires.
And in one such dimension
even peace was within grasp.
But in barged sunlight
and the nightly multiverse
collapsed into the day

Poetry 2013, First Prize, Saima Afreen

Sin Of Semantics
Saima Afreen

Inherited by a sentence
What is it that weeps
Inside the frontier
Between
the rivers and mirrors?
Darkness s  p l   i  n  t  e  r  s  as my sun
And I   —   f   a  l  l
into a
place
That stems from you
Wounds bloom like morning prayers
Flush of glass-doors
Brush
The paisleys
of my shawl —
Broken stars are
plucked wicks
On the roof of eye…
Light pregnant with Silence
was coppice
              of dotted lines
Oil-lamps glimmer
On birth of wet letters
Cold, dark
Planets
Floating on killed papyrus
Noah’s Ark
Ferried the corpses:
Chopped words don’t always
Die in a gutter
…the gray patch is curled within
Deep wine voice
Moony blossoms
Announce the mist of past:
Archangel of waiting lines.
Thoughts-winds-feathers
Blow
As unripe harvest of commas
Cascading on
Rain curtains
That in your world
Never found a name
Between a blue and a red
Night bled
Gilgamesh
Will wake up
the next autumn
In the leaves that flew in periods…
Mahmoud Darwish
Waited too long
For Frisky Air
To build its nest
On his palms
Olive years burn
With what
Saba Arwah s…p…u…n
Questions
          loop, lament, and laugh
          inside
the white night
dying
for a black moon.
Labyrinths always have
doors in c—o—r—n—e—r—s
of lapis-lazuli.
Or perhaps visions will still
be stuck
in blue flood
seeping from footnotes