Aayush Gugnani is an amateur writer based out of New Delhi. He uses free style word play to express his political opinions and occasionally dabbles in poetry. He uses the world as his canvas and believes in expressing his thoughts and feelings openly.
Such Is Life
By Aayush Gugnani
In the breezy summer With the golden sun, Shimmering at the horizon I stood there in oblivion.
Standing at the worlds end Waiting for you to come back, I clinged on to my memories with you Cherishing our moments as a pack.
What once was a dream for me, Became a reality. Once I was an ill fitted piece Soon we became family.
We held each other in times of despair And had each other’s back here & there. Never had the world, Seen such a ravishing pair.
We were unbreakable, Like a covalent bond. At least that’s what people said, To which we replied it was a miracle of the gods’ wand.
Alas ! Now you’ve gone too far Away from the gusty winds Away from being what you were Or who you are.
I’m not complaining for the woes Happy you finally got what’s yours. I’ll be there if and when you return To fill your saddened pores.
Life without you in the beginning was tough, Nights were endless and rough.
Though I learned to cope with them, Yet, I wonder how can I pacify my sinking soul. O how do I break myself from these shackled chains? To go back to being what I really was.
Don’t ever think I’m not with you. I’m an undercurrent, You might not be able to see me But in all your times of both happiness and despair, I will be omnipresent.
Life’s a chaos without a pattern One moment we’re here, The other we’re not.
Yet, I try to maintain positivity in life. Try to look up and find the northern light, Look down to see the sea shimmering bright.
The haze maybe temporary, But the maze is permanent. Our laugh maybe fading, But our love for each other, Our love is effervescent.
Sabah Kaur Mann is a young writer and poet based out of Jalandhar. She practices formal poetry and inspirational prose to accentuate societal problems that people face in their day to day life. She prefers to write under a pen name – ‘Genesis’ which is interpreted as the origin of a new beginning.
The Girl Who Cried
By Sabah Kaur Mann (Genesis)
I’m writing this to the girl who cried, I’m sorry you felt like you died. I know this wouldn’t make it fine, So forgive me if I crossed a line.
I see you waiting after all this time, With no one sparing you a single time. I know you went through a terrible life, Believe me you’ll get through this strife.
I know my words seem like a lie, But these horrible times will surely die. You will soon bloom like the Queen-of-the-Night, And will positively get through this plight.
The girl who cried was once my name, But sadly no one told me the same. I died each night, each time, each day, But I couldn’t ever follow this way.
So save yourself it’s all I ask, Don’t burden yourself with every task. Just be yourself and dry your tears, Scream and let go of all your fears.
Just A Tide
By Sabah Kaur Mann (Genesis)
You can be the wisp, or you can be the storm. It might be rough, yet you needn’t conform.
They might try to thaw, from ice to ash. If that flays you raw, try not to crash.
No need to dry, those tears you hide. Whenever you cry, remember, it’s just a tide.
You are yourself, no change required. They can’t put you on a shelf, you aren’t some ‘thing’ acquired.
Terror.
By Sabah Kaur Mann (Genesis)
Welcome to the world, Where terror isn’t a crime. So many people have hurled, Somehow, nothing changed over time.
I’m puffed-up and proud, To call myself an army brat. I stand out in a crowd, No matter where I’m at.
See, everyone in our nation, Can sleep a peaceful sleep. Because my father at his station, Makes sure that we do not weep.
Yet, bigoted politicians, Do not seem to care. They have made it their missions, To use words to ensnare.
They negotiate with the enemies, And always protect their skin. Feeding on our amenities, They betray their own kin.
We wished those unfulfilled words of honour, Become a wisp of hope. Patriotism lost its valour, And somehow meant a necklace of rope.
Hostage
By Sabah Kaur Mann (Genesis)
How many women believe, That the wrongs happening to them are right? How many women will grieve, For the events that happen to them every night?
I’m not telling you to take it, Nor fake it and say, “It’s alright”. I’m asking you to not just sit, And act like it’s not a problem just cause it’s out of sight.
Nobody has the right to tell you what to do, Nor to tell you what to wear. They can’t push their opinion on you, And then snatch away your air.
There is no one else who holds you hostage, Except your own mind, Your life is a book, write your own page, You never know just how much you will find.
I Tried To Be . . .
By Sabah Kaur Mann (Genesis)
I tried to be sugar, In a world full of spice. The world threw a dagger, Cause I tried to be nice.
I tried to be a friend, In a world filled with hate. The world asked me to end, Cause I tried to depend on fate.
I tried to be different, In a world so mundane. The world became a parent, Cause I didn’t try to be the same.
I tried to be the best, In a world that held me back. The world pointed out to the rest, Everything I ever did lack.
I tried to be myself, In a world as fake as ours. The world put me on the highest shelf, And then left me there for hours.
Darkness All Around
By Sabah Kaur Mann (Genesis)
Lost in the fields of my own mind, I drown in the river of regret. My essence somehow I cannot find, Millions cause me to fret.
And in those fields I find no light, Just darkness all around. And in those days I lose my might, And I realise I’m nowhere to be found.
The river rushes by so fast, My regrets I see flowing by. And sometimes I drown in at last, Still asking the question – Why?
My essence lost bit by bit, A trade with the devil it seems. And nothing ever seems to fit, Yet somehow I drown my screams.
I care for some who never care, I fret and fret for an empty face. My love I somehow cannot share, With those who keep changing their pace.
Be it fields or rivers, My essence or my mind. In the end I remember, People cannot always be kind.
" Young Writers' Collective" 