Train of Thought

I sit in my AI class
On a dull Tuesday noon
My mind is lost
in Byzantine thought
So I write this poem,
‘cuz why the heck not.

I notice this reddish stain
Under my teacher’s collar
You know what else is red?
My mind started to figure
The Nazi flag with the swastika
That reminds me of Hitler!

Stalin was Hitler’s coeval
He domineered Soviet Russia,
The home of icy vodka.
Vodka in any form
Will make your vision blurred
Might as well suit up and ask
For it to be shaken and not stirred.

007 is British
And so was Captain Russell
The ball that he caught
Was declared a six.
He was deported to Africa!
What unfortunate politics!

Politics in the real world
Is all about the moolah
If I had all that money
Instead of the crooks, they murky
I’d get something so very cool
Like a sweet-ass dune buggy.

Dubai has extensive dunes
And also no income tax
Just like booze in modern Pondi,
Where VITians go to relax.

Pondi is in Tamil Nadu
Famous for Dosa and sambar
Looks like we’ve reached the destination,
That stain was probably sambar.


Soulless Race

Standing at the frontier,
Bombs are all I hear;
All I smell is fear;
Humanity seems to disappear.

Witnessing this dreadful wraith,
With my brother’s blood they, bathe;
His lifeless body I swathe,
Dead and down hung my faith.

In the race of becoming superpower,
Taking decisions like Eisenhower ;
Now comes the dismal hour,
World is on the verge of devour.

We need to change our mentality,
No war no brutality,
Can we kill this fatality?
Can we bring this to reality?

– Hariom Hudiya

The Switch

Her chest tightened,
Into so many knots,
Juiced out and hung to dry.

Her mind in chaos,
Running with no destination,
Screaming for help,
Anyone? Anywhere?

Her eyes seeing,
Her ears hearing,
Not the waves crashing on the shore,
But the shadows of unformed people,
Familiar but strange.

Her conscience screaming,
She could feel the vibration of its voice,
But couldn’t make out the words.

She ran around,
Looking for the switch.
The lights were too bright,
The noise was too loud.
Scraping the walls with her nails,

Then she found it.
The tightening,

The shadows,
The screaming,
All gone.

Her eyes seeing,
Her ears hearing,
The waves crashing on the shore,
She looked down and smiled,
As she crashed too.

By Sowmiyaa Senthilkumar


I don’t know if my eyes will meet the dawn
Tomorrow morning, when the sun gleams.
I don’t know if life will be the same,
Whether tomorrow night, I’ll see more dreams.

I don’t know if my shoulders will feel light,
Or my smile less arduous.
I don’t know if I’ll do better tomorrow
And be more wise and virtuous.

But as I leave for tomorrow on this golden night,
Staring at the stars and wondering,
I just hope you have all my answers
And are with me, gladly coming.

-Ananya Bal


Warped my mind, webbed in chaos
wandering horizons unknown,
enveloped in terror, engulfed in fears-
overcome by grief, overcome by tears.

They shred me into pieces
thanklessly digging into my flaws,
unyielding, into my darkest reaches-
in woeful blood stained their claws.

Veins trembling with sin,
love unrequited, love unclean;
Lost I family, lost I friends,
clumsily clung to my wit’s ends.

Absolution, oh absolution!
walk me down your alley,
spark my arc of redemption,
salvage me apart, set me free!-

Free of souls who once lit my eyes,
souls I’d cherish as time flies,
frozen their laughter, frozen their cries-
evermore trapped beneath my lies.

Melted I away, dismal their absence,
rusted my soul, drowned in isolation;
Marked I mercy, profound her presence-
there she was, love’s very own essence.

For she set free my heart,
set free his guilt, set free his voice-
His songs never the more unheard,
free flew his wings in regal rejoice!

Absolution, oh absolution!
unto forever, I beg thee-
thus ends my road to redemption,
salvation all around, finally set free!

By Prajesh Dey


I pulled out the pin
And looked at the brown locks unfurl.
They brushed against the waist
Of a rough, hoydenish girl.

She loathed long hair
And all the rituals it entailed;
Yet for months now,
She’d let her hair grow unrestrained.

She had coarse hair
Unlike her beloved younger sister.
But fate was acrid,
And had its poisoned lips kiss her.

Sickness that slowly gnaws
And medication that messes
Had taken away from the younger,
Her soft and shiny tresses.

Her former glossy mane
Is all she wants for her last birthday.
I can’t give her back hers
But I’ll let mine brighten her day.

-Ananya Bal


Hush hush, little girl

Hush hush little girl,
He used to tell me,
So that I don’t yell,
And none could see.

Everytime I saw him coming,
my heart would thump,
For I couldn’t bear the pain,
And the fact that he is my father.

He made me lie on the bed,
And unbuckled his belt,
I was scared to imagine,
about what will happen next.

Each and every grip only got worse,
he not only hit but also curse,
I tried getting away from his hold,
but only to fail same as before.

How I wish I told  mommy,
who would always be there to nurse me,
But God even snatched away that moment,
‘Cause even she needs some rest.

Years passed by now,
but the marks still fresh,
how will I ever tell it out,
When the fear still overpowers me.

-Meghana Gudivada

Down the Aisle

Down the aisle I walk
on destiny’s door I knock-
Inhaling the sweet summer day,
lay a path, leading me astray.

Poised my mind, shrouded in sorrow,
looking forth to a better morrow
paused I all of a sudden-
greets me, a sight of the fallen.

Sullen stood the man, his eyes teary,
years of service leaving him weary;
Shrunken lay the woman of old,
her beauty to time forever sold.

Strolled past a man unsighted,
his days nevermore delighted;
The light of his life, lost to fate,
memories no longer his to create.

Hard to hear the shrieks of silence,
hard to find the tears of rage;
Frail their hearts, frail their resistance
evermore consigned to reality’s cage.

Why do we grieve?
Why do we cry?
The future- ours to weave,
is life not worth a try?

For we’re the fortunate,
we are the blessed-
life in our hearts,
fire in our veins-
emerge we unscathed,
break we free of our chains.

Eyes to see, tongue to speak,
of luck and privilege I reek;
Not a moment would I forsake,
for destiny is mine to make.

By Prajesh Dey