Nepal, My Pal

Over my 2015 summer, I organized a community book drive to help the victims of the 2015 Nepal earthquake. A friend of mine helped me; we called my initiative 'Nepal, My Pal'. The idea came to me in 10th grade, when I thought of raising money for a cause I hadn't thought of yet. But that cause crystallised after watching the devastating news in April.

We collected 300+ books from people in my apartment complex, and sold them to local book dealers. The proceeds were donated to the Nepal-based NGO, Hamro Sahayog.

I had such a wonderful time doing so, and am glad that my actions have helped those affected in Nepal. For any more information on the initiative, feel free to contact me!

Swills of Illumination

Teetering piles of books, torn, yellowed pages scrawled

with the elaborate artwork of boredom

 in swirls and billows in congested margins

whose content treasures a wealth of knowledge,

amassed by the brightest minds, generously served

to the benighted, in deep saucers

whose ingredients rise above the rim as eddying mist,

striking against the darkness of ignorance

in countless strands

Forcefully compressed into a compact sphere,

meant to be forced, rather than absorbed, 

into the students' mind, seated obediently-
unseeing, drooping with the occasional nod,
weighed down by the cement bricks of pressure,
a lead orb upon their spirits, their abilities,
encouraging the forcing with a vehemently opposing soul,
with the image of golden bouquets delightfully meted out
by anyone but their nonexistent thirst to learn,
whilst seated in their provincial classroom

A glittering sun, an azure sky, swaying blades of grass,
at a safe distance from the crushing claustrophobia
of a tight enclosure of four walls, lines of desks,
insecurities emerging from peers and adults
Once away, away from pain, undue tension,
free to roam, to question, without the terrifying dread
of ridicule hanging about like a pouncing devil,
free to inhale spirals of beauty, in the form
of independence- to be oneself, to question,
to annihilate the shackles of inhibition,
and to simply, greedily imbibe the joys of education
amassed by the brightest minds, generously served

to the benighted, in deep saucers,
where our duty is to swill the scalding contents,
sip cautiously, prior to assimilating it all,
in desirous downpours, as solace from the unending darkness
of ignorance 

Will-o'-the-wisp

(Picture taken from emerald-depths.deviantart.com)

Hovering gently, iridescent, sapphire blue,

mere inches above the stagnant quagmire
courtesy of the torrential rains
that shattered against the parched land,
its magic emanating in glowing strands

Chanting eerily, its melodies hypnotic,
painfully soothing to a wanderer astray,
luring her from her predetermined course
to the skeletal trees, the towering dark,
while it served as her sole, illuminating spark

Drifting softly, gliding in a sinister,
spectral dance, pirouetting over the darkening morass,
twirling as it led the wanderer toward
its abode, sending her mind spinning, lost,
at the hands of the unearthly entity she had crossed

Whispering uncannily, its voice resembling velvet
crooning advice into her ear, in silvery tendrils
of otherworldly wisdom, yet lacking in enlightened words,
taking her pale, shivering hand, it managed to hold
her soul in its, utterly beyond her control

Halting abruptly, a startling standstill, flourishing
its feathery arms of snow-like mist before the wanderer
who, in a daze, let her eyes fall upon the smothering darkness
miles from her home; searching vainly for the glimmering spark,
oblivious to the fact it had melted in the dark

Natives of the Sky

Her saline tears cascaded
in an inexorable, pelting downpour
that fell from the elusive heavens
that lay beyond the darkened skies-
a celestial symbol of her woe
that found meager respite in the cathartic release
that swamped the parched land, the desiccated soil,
the sorrowfully keeling violet blossoms,
ridding the earthlings of the stigma of hopelessness,
of misery, which had rendered them unable
to produce the saltiness of tears
Her grief was their joy, her pain their pleasure,
with their pale countenances facing the gunmetal grey skies,
a crescent of merriment plastered across, eliciting wonder-
as though they had forgotten the precious art of smiling
As she freed her sorrow in sobbing convulsions,
as thunder resonated across the dimming sky,
as her shivering arms lapped against the encircling clouds,
producing heat, shards of blinding, glittering light
that induced cries of merriment from the crowd below
who leaped about in pirouettes,
basking in the welcome interlude
from the sweltering heat, in the form of
the mangled, distraught emotions
of the residents of the heavens,
whose happiness and well-being created drought,
whose sadness created the pleasure of rain,
and whose despairing agony fashioned the devastating
annihilation of a forthcoming flood

Floral Denizens

Published in Inkling Magazine. 

With angles jagged, bits of ceramic protrusions

starkly contrasting with the linoleum floor,

its remnants scattered confusedly about,

mingled with shards of shining glass

that reflect the sunlight as it glares

down, its golden force enough

to unsettle an immovable 

object, for isn't the sun

an irresistible force?

Having settled on

the mantelpiece,

for years on end,

housing the flowers

that had woefully keeled

due to the harsh sun that refused

to reduce the passion with which it burned,

due to the sorry paucity of sustenance, of respite

from stifling days whose ardor never cooled, due to an 

unfathomable weakness that had never existed before, did

the flowers drop from the pride of an incomparable beauty, to

the misery of loneliness, whose only comfort was the lone ceramic

vase whose cracks widened with each elapsing hour, courtesy of the

overwhelming heat, whose ardor never deigned to cool, whose rays

forced grace to stoop to inelegance, which compelled the formerly

vibrant stalks to yellow and crumble, also obliging the once purple

petals to wither, to droop sadly to the side, upsetting the precious, 

the delicate balance of the plants, letting the vase tip one day, 

precariously, to the right, sending it hurtling, streaking to the

linoleum floor, ending in a deafening shatter of ceramic

against the unyielding, beige flooring, then creating

absolute chaos from tranquility, unsightliness

from past beauty, violent pink fragments

from a united piece of ceramic craft,

whose denizens lay dispersed

amid the wreck of skill,

which was provoked

by the glowing sun

Snowdrop

Withered petals of the autumn beauties
cascade to the ground
in a flurry of forgotten shades
Trees stand bare, only as a few pieces
of wood, coated with the shining powder
of a wintry paradise
that mirrors the weak sunshine
and shimmers faintly

And in this land of endless crystals,
boasting of cold, unfeeling elegance
devoid of the colors of warmth
exist a few strands of green,
contributing viridescence to a frosty scene,
topped with white, which melts in the snow,
difficult to discern, yet pleasurable once perceived
They battle the biting chill of the winter air,
blooming blithely, effortlessly,
their bells signaling the approach of dawn,
awakening nature from its slumber

Milky white against the darkness of dusk,
pale and enchanting against the light of the day,
resilient and unyielding,
yet an emblem of delicate allure,
light and fragrant,
whose scent never ceases to reach
the other creatures summoned by nature
Modest and demure,
mildly mocking, its petals open
in a flawless contrast of forest and frost

Taking the stage of the bliss of winter,
its counterparts having succumbed to the glacial ambience
stands the snowdrop,
conjured by an angel, having emerged from a snowflake,
as a symbol of hope during bleak times,
as evidence that winter thaws into spring,
that snow fades to scurrying life,
that sadness paves the path to joy

Tapestry

I'd create a tapestry of the morning shine
that envelops the cloth of the waking forest
which boasts shards of chartreuse and tendrils of lime-
soft colors against the shadows of the ground
housing stirring creatures, roused by the solar gleam
that pours from the fabric of the rose pink sky
Golden threads would arise from the hidden stars
whose gentle glow weakens as the temperature grows
The clouds would smile, with their reflected light
bestowing the skyline with the coloration of white
which would highlight the proud green of each rustling tree,
creating the musical scene of a melody

I'd create a tapestry of the ocean waves
and weave the cerulean of the lapping waters
that sparkle in the sunlight that lights up the sky
into which sprays of saline froth would fly
The sun would cross the horizon, its radiance weak,
the ocean dampening its fiery light,
extinguishing its blaze, letting puddles of amber
seep into the churning waters that meet the darkening sky
that extend indefinitely beyond, invisible to humanity,
yet visible on my tapestry of the ocean waves
that accentuate the shades of the blue sea,
whose varying colors join in harmony

I'd create a tapestry of the celestial hues
which rain down from the heavens as the moon grows
into an orb of luster from a luminous pearl
that transforms the darkness of the night sky
into the beauty of the shades of midnight blue
The stars would align in a shower of light
whose innocence cascades from their delicate glow
and aligns with the dreams of the earthlings who sleep,
whose enemy is the golden rays
of the sun, which represents the celestial foe
of my tapestry of the moon-bathed tints,
with a sky sprinkled by the consonance of tones of blue

The Roseate Glow

The countryside beckoned invitingly
with verdant arms
The sun glowed enticingly,
drawing her away from the dullness of her room,
toward the golden sparkles it emitted
Laying stretched across the emerald blades of grass,
closing her eyes,
her hair whipping in the wind
she dared to dream

She was dressed in a gown of rosy pink,
whose edges danced about in the breeze
It shimmered in the light of the golden sky,
it reflected the red hues of the autumn leaves
Her silken hair trailed behind her,
in a long, flowing curtain
that mirrored the gusts of the bracing wind,
that pirouetted its own distinctive dance,
while her glowing eyes focused far in the distance...
they focused at nothing, as if in a trance
Blood rushed to her face, emanating a roseate gleam
of exhilaration, as she felt herself rising up
leaving behind the emerald blades of grass,
joining the clouds that hung so low,
that were bathed in the sun's golden glow,
joining the tapestry of the pale sky,
whose squalls whispered alluringly
Bidding farewell to the tedium of the ground,
entering the enchantment of the undulating heavens,
approaching the distant light
that was emitted by the golden orb that burned so far
Her gown sweeping behind her,
its encrusted jewels echoing the glare of the clouds
that hung high and proud,
its soft substance giving her wings
subject to the power of the winds it conjured,
she left the earth,
and entered the skies

She opened her eyes, happy, peaceful,
her hands running over the emerald blades of grass
that glittered in the moonlight
of the bygone sun
and saw, in shock, the gown
of rosy pink,
whose edges danced in the midnight breeze,
reflecting the hues of the moon-kissed leaves