Venus | Eighteen

You are a star. I love that you’re perfect even without trying. I love how one smile of yours is enough to pause the entire universe. I love all your perfect imperfections. I love how you get upset over little things. I love how little things make you so happy. But mostly, I love how nothing or no one can change the way I feel about you.

I love how your eyes are the mirror image of perfection. I love how your hands fit perfectly in mine.

You don’t say much. But when the words that have been waiting on the tip of your tongue come out, every alphabet takes my breath away. I love your gentle kisses and I love our harsh fights. I love how you are always there for me.

You are a star. The brightest star in my galaxy.

Death Time 7:01| Seventeen

She looked at her baby with blood red eyes,
Thinking maybe a miracle can perhaps save her life.
Too young to fight the pain that seems to gradually dim the light.
Small eyes that glare the view possibly saying it was better inside.
The moment which was waited for came but not to stay,
A room which had to be adorned with presents and toys was now transformed to the beeping of the monstrous device.
A new dose was injected in her baby skin every day;
Making her drift even further away.
Not even a month old yet already struggling for her life.
Looking at her she prayed “it’s better you take my daughter away than make her live dead this way”.
It had been three weeks and there wasn’t a single mark or improvement.
The pretty little soul couldn’t fight no more.
She kissed her one last goodbye which was accompanied with a stream of tears.
She felt it was time to release her from all the misery.
Machines one by one were turned all off.
She was told to stand there and watch her go away.
And a moment later the doctor spoke “Death time 07:O1.

– Anshika Kasana,17

The Ugly Population | Sixteen

In this day and age of ever evolving standards catalyzed by technological and industrial modernization, we end up looking at our world and ourselves from advanced lenses. Using the resources available to us, we are constantly developing technologies to make the world more suited to our needs and wants while also making ourselves more suited to the ideals of TV screen “perfection”.

Sun kissed, porcelain clear skin, a flowy, smooth and thick mane of hair along with a body that screams of perfect proportions – does it not seem all too plastic? Why is it that we’re aiming for something we cannot achieve and yet still finding contentment in achieving it temporarily through cosmetic, artificial and unrealistic means?

Recently, after reading an article rating the beauty of people from various cultures and countries, I found myself feeling disappointed and shocked; completely let down by the imposed measure or criteria of beauty that supposedly must be met by people who in the truest sense are always going to be different from each other.

In one of my favorite poems, “Pied Beauty” by Gerard Manley Hopkins, the poet writes of the beauty that we can find in abundance in the very imperfections and abnormalities that we find in our natural world around us. I fail to understand why people from all cultures cannot be seen as equally beautiful given that in none of the cultures do people come off as the epitome of physical perfection.

Why is it that humans, being the most advanced organisms on our planet, are still not satisfied with themselves? The thirst for advancement and evolution is never quenched.

Beauty comes in all shapes and sizes. No matter what part of the world it is that you belong to, you’re beautiful and you should never let anyone put you down or charge you for what God and Nature have given to you freely. You are not ugly, no Man is ugly. It is rather society’s thirst to be something other than it is, human, that makes it ugly of the most unfortunate nature.

It Starts With Us | Fifteen

Family and relatives it is said that we can choose our friends but cannot choose our siblings, cousins or relatives with whom we share the bond of blood. Just like in a circus every act has a special place to play in the same way in the box of perfect family that we sometimes think is suffocating every individual has a special act to play in our life. Which family doesn’t have a fight we all have cracks but the Base of family stands on trust, adjustment, and understanding It is important that we have compassion and utmost respect for each individual in our family and accept them as they are. The problems start when we try to paint others in the perfect picture of our own eyesight. We try to make their attitude correct towards us without understanding their wants and needs. In a family we are of different generation and we all think differently so we have change a bit and adjust in the portrait picture of our family with smiles that come from our hearts filled with love for my dear ones not because the photographer said cheese to us. Yes we don’t get to choose our family because it is our life that needs them and we have to grow in the very place our seeds are put and make our foundation of love and bond strong in a family so that our family tree remains ever growing with value and happiness.

     – Adyasha Rout, 20

My Superpowers – Part 1 | Fourteen

This is the story of how a little boy died. This is the story of my first taste of life. This is the story of how five guys beat the daylights out of me. This is also a story of revenge. Some things come to us as blessings, others, as lessons. I don’t know what this one came as, an awakening maybe. All I know is it changed me completely and no matter how hard I try now, I can’t change it back. Maybe I am scared. This might just be an armor, a shield or a defense mechanism. The crux is that every day I look back, I hope I can turn back the needles of the clock and maybe tell my former self to react differently. If you look through any of my childhood videos, you would notice a kid with a smile brighter than the stars, full of confidence and brimming with hope. I can say I was happy. I was in grade fourth when I joined a hostel and was the only kid in my batch who didn’t shed a tear. Heck, I was the one who asked my parents to make me join a hostel. I remember people exclaiming how I had this aura around me, how I was good at everything. Every venture I took was a success, it was my confidence. My confidence was my secret weapon. It was the ‘chemical X’ that gave me my superpowers. All this went on till the seventh grade. It was the last day of hostel before the summer vacations, my parents were coming to pick me up and then we would head home. At least that’s what I had thought. I was lying down face front on my bed reading a book, when this kid shouted out my name, asking me for a cap. Maybe I was too busy reading the book or maybe I just hadn’t heard him, I don’t know but I didn’t answer back. He was a new addition to the batch and had joined after repeating a grade. He had a big built, and somewhat held an autocracy in class. Only people who weren’t ‘under’ him were few kids like me who held our own. He called again and I didn’t answer. So he came to my bed and in jest hit me on my back, I know he wasn’t serious at that time. Maybe I should have read the situation properly. We were still friends after all. Anyways, at that moment a current of pain past through my body. It hurts a lot every time someone hits me on my back. I turned back and shouted a few angry words. He did too, soon this snowballed into a fight, and he owned me. I know I fought well, but soon it was completely one sided. Maybe this another way for my mind to cope with the situation but the rest I remember only in flashes: He brings out a hockey stick – Fear – Embarrassment – I am on the ground – His huge built friend joins in – I fight back – Anger – Frustration – Fear – Three more join in – Helplessness – Fear – Two hold my arms – Fear – Two hold my legs – Fear – Fear. I had never been so afraid in my life, I was completely helpless. What I couldn’t comprehend was the fact that even though I had given up, they didn’t stop. The only thing I wished for were some people to back me up, but none of my friends joined in to help. I could only see sympathy in their eyes, there was no anger or frustration. Soon all if it was over, I didn’t know what make of it. I had decided not to tell my parents, mostly because of the embarrassment. Yet, as soon as I saw my mother tears rolled down my eyes. Shove came to push she was at the principal’s office, but I knew they had taken something that the principal couldn’t restore; my superpowers were gone. As I said, this also a story of revenge. Up until now, I was the victim but comes later, is where I went wrong. If only I hadn’t reacted this way, then maybe, I would still be able to restore myself.