Bismay Mohanty

"Whap!!!" A slap landed squarely on my cheek. I was in 12th grade, struggling miserably with academics, and had just been a little too honest with my mother. What followed was a storm of scolding. It was obvious—I had completely lost focus on science. My report cards showed barely passing marks, hovering just above the threshold in every subject except English. The solution my mother proposed was simple: join a local tuition center. But I detested some of the people in that area, and in a fit of irritation, I ranted about the very tutor my mom was considering. I blurted out everything I knew about him—his rumored affairs, his chain-smoking habit, and other gossip I had picked up along the way. Bewildered and furious, my mother’s reaction was swift—a slap that caught me by surprise. “Only if you knew your physics formulas and chemistry exceptions with the same interest,” she seethed, “your results might have been better.” My head hung low in guilt and shame. Her words cut deep...

Often I think you’re better without me,   A bird that’s soaring high, forever free.   You push me away though I long to stay near,   While I chase your shadow, you disappear. I watch as you stand in your world, so bright,   A star in the distance, lost to my sight.   I reach for your hand, but you pull it away,   As if my presence might lead you astray. Am I the storm that you fear will arrive?   Or am I the calm in which you can't survive?   Each step I take closer, you slip out of reach,   Like waves pulling back from a forgotten beach. Perhaps you’re lighter when I'm not around,   No ties to the earth, no feet on the ground.   But still, in my heart, I ache to belong,   Even when silence feels louder than song. Yet even as walls between us arise,   I’ll keep searching for love in your eyes.   For though you push me, I'll never be free, ...

Like the earth held on to the counting droplets and made lakes, rivers and oceans  I shall hold on to the fragments of joy, despair and imagination for who knows they might become an identity  See, the boy who remained committed to art The person who never followed most trends with his generation  Then young fellows come up once a while Whom nobody in the world understands Sometimes due to the age they are in and sometimes because the listener never fought the battle themselves  Somehow my heroism is never encouraged, but exemplified how a man understood and fought for his values  I tell the young kids all  Cousins or nieces and nephews  Why I render their parents stupid  Why listening to the heart is as important as applying the brain  How to deal with the long letters getting delivered but never been responded  And many other things whose learning hasn't arrived yet  But they are all on the way  There are no wise men who have...

The Magicians of Mazda by Ashwin Sanghi My rating: 2 of 5 stars Review of Magicians of Mazda: An information overload of a history class at every page, forcibly molded into a story far away from characterization and impressive but ineffective plotting. Before reading Magicians of Mazda, I was excited about the journey. With exploring more and more of this book, a sense of great writing impressed me. However, as the number of pages proceeded there was chaos disrupting the storyline. Whenever a novel is read, the core theme surrounds the characters. It is only for the characters that the plot is impacted; in Mazda, the characters are forcibly placed to accommodate the plot. There was an average feeling post-completion of this books – the good parts being some knowledge coming in an understandable way. But when a desperate attempt to collide mythology and fiction without smooth transitioning is made, the only thing the reader is left with is information overload. Why cannot storytellin...

  Do you pulsate at the thoughts entering your knack? Like a volcano waiting to be full to it's neck. Afraid to ideate even little with demons ready for celebration Pushing off the edge, after all Suicide doesn't kill like cerebration.

  Dreamland Floating on a mist of love embracing the skin In a home from which far I had been My eyes are closed and yet I see all Travelers celebrating after death in the yawl.   There is a world far away from here Where anything you do, people cheer No boundaries anywhere as we can read hearts Of each other, and without saying convo starts.   It’s a land of dreamers – Dreamland it is called Where love doesn’t need poetries or words scrawled We dreamers connect through music within As shown in movies as the union of two souls begin.   Here, in Dreamland only those are allowed the who dream Anything is fine, but dreaming is a must, with or without a theme A kind of home where I always wanted to be at Something which mortal life prohibits from building or making that.   Monday morning, and back to Reality The compelling need for survival is back in all totality The next tour to Dreamland is again five days far away; ...

Snoring amidst the traffic Deaf to the honking cars Dreaming of home In a far far land Where greenery witnesses all And not tall buildings With forcefully existing people Together in rooms to save costs. A pat recieved on the back Denoting the stop has arrived IT guy running from his dreams Straight to a laptop, under bright lights. Sleep didn't come to him last night Roommate was talking to his beloved on call He sips in free machine coffee Hour on hour without a count. Because he knows traffic will rise His half workplace is in the bus Before or after covid, He never had lunch or dinner with family. At office too, in canteen it's all faces Avoiding socialising so that They can get back to work. Returning to his room, He falls asleep With or without food And he dreams. Waterfalls and mountains All those places on his laptop's wallpaper He saves extensively for that One time of the year Where he fulfills his dreams That too ends in despair  Where he knows There is an end to...

                 Everyone is aware and yet all are drugged A substantial expenditure on weekend In alcohol of illusion, falsity and lies. There are simple disinterests I possess Can I not travel near and far anytime? I am just twenty-five. It has happened quite some time That conversations meant to continue Never happened again due to death. The desires in me rest deep For they know they die young. All the excitement behind new beginnings New city, new car, new house, new love Are farces known to fade soon. There is no chance to move to a city far To friends and relatives who don’t inspire. Those who find beer more affordable Than books and discussions available. I am a lover of God And all performances of his music The tranquil sky, the chaste weather, Everything that might not feed me. But I have my home And the chance to serve my parents While they still live And not mourn over lost time...

  It’s been a really long time since I wrote my last blog. The gap reasonably is the outcome of acknowledging knowledge in various forms, thus leaving no time to share anything that’s not already known to the world. Ignorance occurs at all levels but as I went further deep to explore the powers of the mind and the Universe, it was guilt and shame that had consumed me by showing my position. Even though many around me are unaware of the powers of the subconscious, that would render me as a one-eyed man in the village of the blind. However, it doesn’t change the truth that there are people outside this village with both eyes. And in higher planetary realms, the God himself lives with infinite eyes. In a gradual manner, I will guide you through this article about my actions and the inspirations behind them, which have the potential to give you a solution to your problems.   I never pick up the phone Amazon and Flipkart delivery executives are familiar with my schedule and...

Once upon a time, A random person spat on the Buddha. Buddha showed no reaction Rather calmed his angry disciple even And thanked the man who spat, said “Please come and spit whenever you feel like”.   Maya came to my life similarly Smiling and blushing and acting First, she took all that was needed To win the trust that she loves me. The next moment, I was crying over a toy That was supposed to be the world for me And I made the mistake of sharing it.   Once and again, Maya comes in front When life goes all smooth And I write another poetry like this one That everyone except her read Because she is busy in her duty Of testing people who are delicate.   The Buddha was yet to come out of me I was sitting at a vegan restaurant today As I had my cap on and also my hoodie Peeped a bit to see Maya in the view And she constantly looked back It was me who was there – a youth in love. She did her usual acting of liking him...

It’s the twenty-first century  Amidst all nature’s fury Bioweapons inside our respiration Clueless who planned the conspiration Still, exploration of life is on Mars After all, life on Earth itself is a farce A new season arrived in this danger Where known became strangers And strangers turned into relations Bridging actions to needed deplorations When all of this ends, I believe A new era is where we will live No more excuses or formalities For actions, powers, and loyalties Missing till now was the meaning of life The quest to it is more lockdown and strife.

    To the mother Whose heart lies in caressing her child, Doesn’t lose the habit without any remind Even when her little one begets a little one Even after the need of the same for herself has begun At no remarkable point, the same she could agnize And thus, time flies.   To the father Whose sense of saving up till neck Spending little on own and fixing wrecks Forgets to discontinue despite no need, when old Journey from youth till grey hair is foretold The transition is unknown even when he dies And thus, time flies.   To the child With the want to grow up and earn like the elders he adores Till money is all there; so much that nobody will work anymore Only in the end when it is known that money isn’t all Troubling gets many of those goals, lifelong that he had haul From that of others to his own philosophy, gradually he abides And thus, time flies.   To the dreams That lost paths in between highs and lows ...

A decade ago Not long back, one day She stood at the balcony. Her brother’s friend had come to meet him The boy on cycle looked at her blank As if never seen a girl before Or never someone so beautiful Did she match his imagination? Of fictional characters In books and movies. She smiled at him And kept smiling back each time When she knew that he came daily Just to see her, in the evening From the same balcony-road distance Properly maintained; No, the era wasn’t that of the pandemic When people stood at distance And wore masks, Love was always a virus though.   She recalls today on the same balcony When the friends are no more there Who claimed ‘You deserve better!’ Seeing his curly hair and skeletal body, And various aspects that were not proper. He no longer comes to see her After standing there for hours Through winters and all summer, Heavy rain not to forget at all; She never made any effort.   In the twenty-first century, Whe...

Non-existent yet not flabbergasted By the epiphanies of blood and flesh Underlying beneath an invisible cloak Standing between two people talking. At times, playing games with the solitary Reminds me of the pranks made long ago It then used to be a group of kids in joy Now I am just a ghost with inaudible laughter Devoid of the feelings of jeopardy or survival The differences aren't as large as the thoughts That drove me off the ceiling fan I ideated the visualisation of flying away The destination being unknown Like a stranger on a stranded land However it is still a pursuit to wrest From an unseemingly confiscation of purpose Neither found in life nor death Hence, circumstances aren't that disparate I am better watching the unending sky Than settle down in a devastated world With social skills neither being an inborn talent Nor something where I could upgrade with time It's still this world that I dwell upon Just in the cloak I best fit in.

If I can call them for cigarettes and alcohol That being the scope of our reunion While talking about trips and adventure together Out of nowhere, priority comes into consideration. Probably friends are meant to be people Limited to certain interests and thoughts Then why shouldn't we forget all of them And pretend to colleague that we love them the most? Perhaps boundaries won't stay then Between personal and professional Also, there will be no competition or envy, Turning office into an home will be rational then. I have surpassed the age Of emphasising on fancy terms like 'fake friends'. There is some worth in safeguarding than blending in Which I am aware of that it goes against the trends. The only person I know doesn't talk to me Poor Conscience, I thought him to be an angry hound Feasting upon the past but it turned out to be mute Leaving me all lonely in a crowd.

The scenery of rain drops slipping on the slides of leaves gives me nostalgia of my engineering days. It was 2015 when I took admission in an engineering college. Continual rain over the days had filled in all the low lying areas beside road leading from the main gate to the hostel. My father had just dropped me off at my newly, temporarily and partially owned property. One of the bed was unoccupied and in another, my senior roommate slept covering himself with blanket from top to bottom. My room was on fourth floor. It was drizzzling and through the sprinkled glasses of the window, I gazed at the hills on the other side. There were four of them in view, so I saw in them my family photo which hung up on the drawing room walls back at my hometown. The big ones were my parents ofcourse and the small ones- me and my brother. All my life I had remained secluded from friend circles but being alone in a new area of strangers where you don’t identify a ghost was a terrible feeling...

The country takes pride in having 65% of youth in its population with this being said at major ceremonies in and out of the country. Making this situation and number a wholesome credible thing to rejoice, what needs to be pondered upon first is whether the 65% youth population meant a compilement or a crisis. There are steps in the right direction, such as the Indian government’s Start Up India initiative to boost entrepreneurship; the launch of the Skill India mission; the establishment of a dedicated Ministry of Skill Development and Entrepreneurship; the establishment of industry-led sector skills councils, and the overhaul of the Industrial Training Institutes. These pretty assets will be considerable only if executed and implemented well enough. With the MHRD constantly bringing many incentives for the students to grow, like the ‘Right to Knowledge’ campaign with free courses straight from the IITs, it is no doubt that the majority do not get a differ...

All sporadic existences of mine With whole heart, I let it go The clouds of joy that would rain Had acid in them, I didn't know. Blunders of words that came I enjoyed for I don't watch love tales Perpetual loss that you breathed in Now corrodes you through various hells. All the good times and turmoil that happened No lame blame game could justify Let's laugh it off as a poor decision It's true, the dire tantrums won't satisfy. It burns within like a fire ball Unleashing the little rage that's left Afraid of schizophrenic pathologic lies Atleast with a warning comes my cheap cigarette. . . In frame:- @_d_i_n_3_s_h_

Returning hostel After vacations Rejoicing the feeling Of having my own book And in all flow I rush To surprise The reader Of my lone proses  But there is a lock On the door I find. This happened For three times When I would go joyful But return discouraged Happiness gets doubled When shared And I feel its the same With the inability. On a fine day A terrible news came About the death Of my dear friend Shocked and cried Even when All tears dried. There was nothing That could return A friend Keeping memories As the only jewel And curses to life With all slangs known Unfortunately none Of them worked For peace or pain Seems this is what People say Bad times are like I take back My ungratefulness Towards lacking The possession Of the latest phone And that's where Our friendship grew Asking for Internet From a neighbouring Stranger roommate Which then soon Became a habit And on that pretext The various topics That would flung upon...

My paternal grandfather was a retired DSP(Deputy Superitendant of Police) and my maternal grandfather is a retired SP(Superitendant of Police). Sounds something like ‘mere chacha vidhayak hain?’.  No? Alright. This is on a plain context by an ordinary citizen of India. Yesterday on the occasion of Valentine’s day, where it was supposed to celebrate love all around, the whole country shed is filled with remorse due to the suicide bombing of 40 jawaans in their army bus at Pulwama. This article isn’t concerned about anything about the incident but almost everything after that follows on social media. Scene 1: Sharing status News feed, stories, status updates- they were all filled with the news of the incident. People are continually expressing grief over the incident but like everything, it is a problem for some. Now the question to those who are fed up with the status, why don’t you understand that like you, others too have their freedom of expression?Alright...