College

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"Dreams come true, just we are just too blind to see them do."

“Dreams come true, just we are just too blind to see them do.”

It’s been almost three years, since the first time my feet touched these peripheries, and it came to own me, even though to be bluntly honest, that first time, I didn’t dream I would be spending all this time here, in Kamala Nehru College. First off, I was so far off from home, and all this while I’ve had just so much going on, on my mind, that inadvertently I ended up not wholly appreciating the privilege I had been goaded with, to be forever, a part of and be one with all the past of KNC, my college, and its future as well.

To the common man or woman it’s just a college, another building in a lush sub-urban neighborhood, but for me, it’s my identity, my bridge towards reality. Every morning, walking through the front gate, out of time and breath, I step in and rush around the front porch and conveniently dash up the stairs in the search for my class. Well, it’s my fault, that I lead two very disjointed lives, that I appear like a lost lampoon at the beginning of every class, but then, that’s my story, and it’s entirely irrelevant here. This is the story of my college. So breathe, I’m almost there.

But I am an observer, I am at one with the human spirit as well as the spirit of all things on the earth and over my time at KNC, I’ve grown closer to nature than to my classmates. The lush campus of my college provided a very good setting for me to explore the minute things of life. The bustle that thrived all around the big college building, always instilled a kind of unusual feeling in my heart, that first year, that coming home for the vacations, I learnt was “homesickness” and my own house, seeming to feel smaller because unknowingly the place had come to own me, made me acknowledge it as my home. I knew I could never be at peace for the months I was away from college.

I am not a very studious person, but I read, oh I read…and reading I’ve spent hours reading, just curling up under the big willowy trees in the fields with yellowed collections of old, very old poetry, and lose track of time entirely. I, who’s usually very concerned about a low battery on my phone, could forget about my dead phone, and let it stay dead for forever, while I lay down on the soft greens of our playground and feel the sun warm my closed lids on a wintry afternoon. I admit it, I am lazy, and I love to waste time – specially, when I am witnessing, or while being a part of, something that with my soul, I wouldn’t hesitate calling beautiful.

The college grounds proved to be a great place for me to practise photography as well, since it was very convenient to carry along my camera for beginners. It was just ridiculous thought that I was found by people to be looking into every crevice, searching for treasure. Haha, that’s just me saying, because with every good shot, I’d be up there, beaming like Napoleon Bonaparte, as if I’d conquered a nation, bursting with glee. Even though I wasn’t really expecting a round of applause from people around, me, I was still a small town girl. But it didn’t take me long to realize there was no one with me in my bubble and I walk around, learning more with every step that took me away…

The canteen was where I always went in search for comfort. People have this strong notion that I eat a lot, and why shouldn’t that notion exist, I am a foodie, and I love good food. And especially it was the aroma circulating around our college canteen that drew me on like a moonstruck vagabond follows the moon goddess. My classmates would testify to the fact that I’m wholly addicted to our canteen, my favourite momos with the red sauce with the lemon iced tea, the chicken tikka rolls of the Coke Studio, the rajma rice, and the perfect combo of the samosa and coffee from the Nescafe stall, that we get after we exact it with the coins – those twelve, well spent rupees, are all the fuel we need to sit through the tiresome back-to-back classes on the late autumn afternoons when the rest of the world is cosily taking a nap in their warm beds…

Now my college days are drawing to a close, and it’s like a cold, harsh gust of wind whipping across my face. I would miss my college and I will miss the people of my class. But then life goes on…like time and tide waits for none. KNC will forever be the longest chapter in my life, my hard earned prized that I forgot to cherish while I had it… But then that’s my story, which is an entirely different one. KNC, will always stand, and I’ve loved it in so many other ways, it’ll always make me speechless; like right now, I don’t know how to conclude this…since the story hasn’t ended, nor, it ever will…

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A Cynical Me

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These violent delights have violent ends…

Why, I couldn’t remember that,

Before I gave away my heart,

In just a fancy little fantasy?

 

But now I know, it’s all the same.

What I’ve become, I don’t wanna know.

It’s only me now, the only one,

Who can surprise me in my ire.

And nothing else.

 

No more fire. No more violence.

Just stretches of grey foggy dreariness everywhere,

Hard as rock, the hall of stones stand,

Like walls of doom over me.

 

Like a volcano too cools down one day.

Then rocks do not react to water or a touch.

That’s where violent fantasies end,

And worldly delights begin…

Cured of Your Pride

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It’s been long since,

Since i’ve been living on scraps.

Faraway stars too dimmed my heart’s shine,

Once which used to burn as bright as the sun.

It’s been long since a smile sprang up,

Willingly on my desiccated lips,

Which once used to be as plush as a plume.

Blackened by poisons, and waiting,

For your presence in my room.

Hopes never germinate from ashes,

And one that would rise,

I’ve smashed that spark with a painful butt.

And fed it a handsome drink to kill.

It would have burnt me up, I felt.

In no time, an inferno spreading like a wildfire.

I gave up everything, even the hope of winning one day…

Without love, without hope I took to live, in my poor hut.

But then the Phoenix rose, from the wet ashes, outdoor,

And took a flight right through my window.

All the smothered prayers, and beheaded hopes,

Were finally answered in my favor.

Finally destiny brought you back outside my door.

It’s your familiar knock on my door,

I know from imagining you in many of my fantasies,

But it’s been long since I haven’t had that dream,

While I burned all along, hoping to see it all once again,

But then your knock was never heard, when I needed it most.

My ears, exploited with loud music for quick escapes,

Cannot hear it now when it’s really you,

Knocking, on my door.

I wouldn’t ask for your forgiveness,

For my ill behaviour–

Since it’s been long and you never apologized for yours.

But I wouldn’t open up my door.

Once you stranded me all alone, but stronger I am now.

Today I’m a girl out of love, but my heart’s happy tonight.

My pride, you wounded, I broke yours.

Come tomorrow, we’ll share a verse.

Me. Cyril Cliffette. Androgynous pseudonym.

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I am 21 now, but from the moment I was thirteen, I found I had a very loud and unpleasant voice, because of which people around me always tried to shun. Since then I decided I should write as I have no other way of speaking, other than with my words, uninterrupted.

When I am cold, I am unbelievably hard and unmovable in my hatred that nothing can change my mind about it. On the other hand is I do not hate anything, until the very last point of forbearance and moral allowances. I love peace, beauty and balance. I try to love my life as I go ahead into it. I could better without a few people from my past who keep cropping up to ruin my present…

I am 21, standing ready on the threshold of my adult life, waiting for someone to just take my hand and pull me through. But it is as though I am born with some incurable curse that whoever it may be, I happen to start trusting in as a friend or well wisher, separately, unknown to me, also starts falling back on me, back-stabs me, ignores me leaving me to blame myself. Whoever I like, is also far out of my reach, (not the celebrity crushes) I mean socially unacceptable situations, well not exactly, since those stay crushes, and never reciprocated.

I’ve had an over simple childhood. And then the instant I was a teenager I was gifted with a super-duper over-complicated life. But inside my heart it’s one simple word, that keeps me going and that power is me. I know myself and that strongest I am when I’m being me.

Put the world aside, and at this socially small age, I have set out on my journey. I write books, I like to dream and write about artful life, fantasy, things we all wish to find our lives to one day attain. Perfection. I know I’m little out of luck right now, but soon my books will be out for general public. Then I hope I’ll have some of my peace. But then I’ll always be me.

I love you MyLutz,

Yours forever,

Hoping and waiting, Virginia