Literary Vibes - Edition CLI (28-Mar-2025) - POEMS
Title : Blooms (Painting courtesy Ms. Latha Prem Sakya)
An acclaimed Painter, a published poet, a self-styled green woman passionately planting fruit trees, a published translator, and a former Professor, Lathaprem Sakhya, was born to Tamil parents settled in Kerala. Widely anthologized, she is a regular contributor of poems, short stories and paintings to several e-magazines and print books. Recently published anthologies in which her stories have come out are Ether Ore, Cocoon Stories, and He She It: The Grammar of Marriage. She is a member of the executive board of Aksharasthree the Literary Woman and editor of the e - magazines - Aksharasthree and Science Shore. She is also a vibrant participant in 5 Poetry groups. Aksharasthree - The Literary Woman, Literary Vibes, India Poetry Circle and New Voices and Poetry Chain. Her poetry books are Memory Rain, 2008, Nature At My Doorstep, 2011 and Vernal Strokes, 2015. She has done two translations of novels from Malayalam to English, Kunjathol 2022, (A translation of Shanthini Tom's Kunjathol) and Rabboni 2023 ( a Translation of Rosy Thampy's Malayalam novel Rabboni) and currently she is busy with two more projects.
Dear Readers,
It is with great pleasure I present to you the 151st edition of LiteraryVibes, loaded with beautiful stories, anecdotes and lovely poems from seasoned writers as well as beginners. This month we are lucky to get two new contributors - Ms. Sangeeta Dey Roy, a prolific poet from Assam and Shri Sivananda Acharya, a seasoned writer from Chhatisgarh. Let us welcome them to the LV family and wish them the best in their literary journey.
In the coming month we will come out with a special commemorative anthology to celebrate the publication of the 150th edition of LiteraryVibes. The first edition of LiteraryVibes, published in February 2019, hosted only seven writers. Today we have a pool of more than a hundred poets and writers contributing to the monthly eMagazine. For the past six years I am happy to provide a platform to everyone to revel in their creative wonder. There are no doubt some imperfections, but life is too short to count the minuses. We should instead count our blessings. Here is a poem by one of our regular contributors Shri Satish Pashine about what others give to us - priceless gifts which remain tucked in some corner of our hearts:
The Gift They Left
(Satish Pashine)
People change;
they drift away,
like sunsets
at dusk.
Ask them not,
there’s no question why.
Just hold the lessons
they left behind.
That friend was here,
now gone for good.
Laughter stays,
soft and soothing.
In the leaving,
Memories remain—
a scent of love
that lingers on.
Pain stabs;
it takes its toll.
Yet every wound
teaches and guides.
It’s not just sorrow
that we bear,
but how we grow
through what we share.
Let them go
with quiet grace.
No bitterness,
no past to chase.
For even when
they walk away,
the gift they left
will always stay.
What nice, profound thoughts! One can go back to this poem again and again to be inspired by whatever little one can contribute in life. Talking of inspiration, I came across some beautiful nuggets recently which teach great lessons to our day to day life. You might have already read some of them, but they are worth repeating:
1. Dirty Washing
(Our Judgements Say
More About Us Than
the Person We Judge)
A young couple moved into a new house. The next morning while they were eating breakfast, the young woman saw her neighbor hanging the washing outside.
“That laundry is not very clean; she doesn’t know how to wash correctly. Perhaps she needs better detergent.”
Her husband looked on, remaining silent. Every time her neighbor hung her washing out to dry, the young woman made the same comments.
A month later, the young woman was surprised to see a nice clean wash on the line and said to her husband,
“Look, she’s finally learned how to wash correctly. I wonder who taught her this?”
The husband replied, “I got up early this morning and cleaned our windows.”
(And so it is with life … What we see when watching others depends on the clarity of the window through which we look. So let us not be too quick to judge others, especially if our perspective of life is clouded by anger, jealousy, negativity or unfulfilled desires. Judging a person does not define who they are. It defines who we are.)
2. True Riches
(Money Is Not True
Wealth)
There was once a boy who was growing up in a very wealthy family. One day, his father decided to take him on a trip to show him how others lived who were less fortunate. His father’s goal was to help his son appreciate everything that he has been given in life.
The boy and his father pulled up to a farm where a very poor family lived. They spent several days on the farm, helping the family work for their food and take care of their land.
When they left the farm, his dad asked his son if he enjoyed their trip and if he had learned anything during the time they spent with this other family.
The boy quickly replied, “It was fantastic, that family is so lucky!”
Confused, his father asked what he meant by that.
The boy said, “Well, we only have one dog, but that family has four–and they have chickens! We have four people in our home, but they have 12! They have so many people to play with! We have a pool in our yard, but they have a river running through their property that is endless. We have lanterns outside so we can see at night, but they have the wide open sky and the beautiful stars to give them wonder and light. We have a patio, but they have the entire horizon to enjoy–they have endless fields to run around in and play. We have to go to the grocery store, but they are able to grow their own food. Our high fence protects our property and our family, but they don‘t need such a limiting structure, because their friends protect them.”
The father was speechless.
Finally, the boy added, “Thank you for showing me how rich people live, they’re so lucky.”
(A rich life can mean different things to different people. What are our values and priorities? If we have whatever is important to us, we can consider ourselves to be wealthy.)
3. The Donkey In The Well (For Anyone Going Through A Hard Time)
One day a farmer’s donkey fell down into a well. The animal cried piteously for hours as the farmer tried to figure out what to do. Finally, he decided the animal was old, and the well needed to be covered up anyway-it just wasn’t worth it to retrieve the donkey.
He invited all of his neighbors to come over and help him. They all grabbed a shovel and began to shovel dirt into the well. At first, the donkey realized what was happening and cried horribly. Then, to everyone’s amazement, he quieted down.
A few shovel loads later, the farmer finally looked down the well. He was astonished at what he saw. With each shovel of dirt that hit his back, the donkey was doing something amazing. He would shake it off and take a step up.
As the farmer’s neighbors continued to shovel dirt on top of the animal, he would shake it off and take a step up.
Pretty soon, everyone was amazed as the donkey stepped up over the edge of the well and happily trotted off!
(Life is going to shovel dirt on us, all kinds of dirt. The trick to getting out of the well is to shake it off and take a step up. Each of our troubles is a stepping stone. We can get out of the deepest wells just by not stopping, never giving up! Let's shake it off, and take a step up.)
4. The Boy And The Ice Cream (Let Us Not Be Too Quick To Judge First Appearances)
In the days when an ice cream sundae in U.S. cost much less, a 10 year old boy entered a hotel coffee shop and sat at a table. A waitress put a glass of water in front of him.
“How much is an ice cream sundae?”
“50 cents,” replied the waitress.
The little boy pulled his hand out of his pocket and studied a number of coins in it.
“How much is a dish of plain ice cream?” he inquired. Some people were now waiting for a table and the waitress was a bit impatient.
“35 cents,” she said brusquely.
The little boy again counted the coins. “I’ll have the plain ice cream,” he said.
The waitress brought the ice cream, put the bill on the table and walked away. The boy finished the ice cream, paid the cashier and departed.
When the waitress came back, she began wiping down the table and then swallowed hard at what she saw.
There, placed neatly beside the empty dish, were 15 cents – her tip.
(Let us not be too quick to judge others at first appearance. Very often the people we least expect to help, are those that give the most generously, so let us share our warmth unabatedly with the world.)
5. The Wise Old Man And The Jokes (Let Us Not Moan About Things We Are Not Doing Anything About)
A wise man once faced a group of people who were complaining about the same issues over and over again. One day, instead of listening to the complaints, he told them a joke and everyone cracked up laughing.
Then, the man repeated the joke. A few people smiled.
Finally, the man repeated the joke a third time–but no one reacted.
The man smiled and said, “You won’t laugh at the same joke more than once. So what are you getting from continuing to complain about the same problem?”
(We are not going to get anywhere if we keep complaining about the same problem but do nothing to fix it. Let’s not waste our time complaining, expecting other people to continue to react to our complaints. Instead, let us take action to make a change.)
(The internet doesn't say who are the authors of these beautiful snippets, but LiteraryVibes would like to acknowledge their inspiring ideas and place on record our thanks to them).
Hope you will like the offerings in this edition and share them with all your friends and contacts through the following links:
https://positivevibes.today/article/newsview/585 (Poems)
https://positivevibes.today/article/newsview/584 (Short Stories and Anecdotes)
https://positivevibes.today/article/newsview/583 (Young Magic)
There is also an interesting anecdote by the famous Gyanecologist Dr. Gangadhar Sahoo at https://positivevibes.today/article/newsview/582
Do enjoy the beauty of the Spring season through the soft, receding touch of a pleasant winter, curled up with the 151st edition of LiteraryVibes. Take care, relax, till we meet again on 25th April with the LV152.
With warm regards
Mrutyunjay Sarangi
Editor, LiteraryVibes
Friday, the 28th March, 2025
Table of Contents :: Poems
01) Prabhanjan K. Mishra
MISS MERCY
02) Dilip Mohapatra
UNLEASHING THE URCHIN
03) Abani Udgata
SOME THOUGHTS AND A POEM
04) Snehaprava Das
IF TOMORROW COMES
05) Sujata Dash
PREFERENCE
06) Shri Satish Pashine
THE WEIGHT OF WORDS & THE SONG WITHIN!
07) Avantika Vijay Singh
A SUNSET IN THE SUNDARBANS
08) Dr. Saroj K. Padhi
ASHES WHISPER
09) Hema Ravi
“WHAT A RIDE...”
10) Asim Ranjan Parhi
OH MY PAST
11) Sangeeta Dey (Roy)
HAS KINDNESS TAKEN A BACKSEAT .
12) Jaydeep Sarangi
A WHIFF OF LOVE
THESAURUS OF MY WINE MOMENTS
AGONIES I LIFT
13) Bipin Patsani
THE NUDE IN SLEEP
THE FIRST SYMPHONY
AND WHEN IT IS SPRING AGAIN
14) Dr. Rajamouly Katta
NATURE LOVES MAN
PARTS IN TOGETHERNESS FOR LIFE
BEAUTY FOR GAIETY
15) Krishna Tulasi
WALK TOWARDS GOLGAPPA
16) Sushree Gayatri Nayak
YAJNASENI
17) Sulekha Sarkar
MAA
18) Dr Nanda Kishore Biswal
ON THE HEART’S WAY
19) Tophan Khilar
MY UNIVERSITY
20) Dr. Paramita Mukherjee Mullick
GLASS FLOWERS (THEY BECOME TRANSPARENT IN RAIN)
21) Nisha Luthra
TRANSFORMATION?
22) Sreechandra Banerjee
SEASON’S GREETINGS
23) Leena Thampi
INTROSPECTION
24) Sudipta Mishra
MORNING SONG
25) Nandini Mitra
I WAIT IN DARK FOR THE DAWN
25) Matralina Pati
THE WITHERED ROSE
A LITANY OF SHADOWS
27) Dr. Protiva Rani Karmaker
RETURN TO LIFE
28) Arpita Priyadarsini
AGONISING HOPES
29) Shreeya Sampada
NEW YEAR WITH A NEW ENTITY
30) Sheena Rath
SUNFLOWERS
BOUGAINVILLEA
31) Chaitrakana Pati
DOORS
32) Harisankar Sreedharan
THE DEEP FAKE
33) Sukanya Kunju
TWIRLING SOUL
34) Kabyatara Kar
HURTS
35) Dr. Mrutyunjay Sarangi
THE QUESTIONS
Prabhanjan K. Mishra
Hop skip jump. Hop skip jump.
The boat lurches ahead
rocking the dark, rocking the couple,
the engine hiccups
all the way from Sri Lanka to India.
Her seeding on the high sea,
birth at Dhanushkodi,
no safety behind, no hope ahead,
a child with no country,
parents on the run.
Looking forward
to a mother-lagoon,
a father-mooring,
she grows up
much faster than her age.
Abducted, sold,
a duplicate Koh-i-Noor
at Sonagachhi*
in a little Sheesh Mahal*
her anguish dances away.
She searches in every
patron’s face her homeland.
Steady on boats,
wobbling on land,
she never really can dance.
Rather, dances away the floor
under her feet that the patrons adore.
Neither Sri Lankan nor an Indian,
the God's child, His mercy,
Miss Mercy, God’s residue.
(The poem is for a Sri Lankan refugees girl found during a raid of a prostitution den in Sonagachhi*, Calcutta in 2022. Sheesh Mahal* refers to The Palace of Mirrors.)
Prabhanjan K. Mishra is an award-winning Indian poet from India, besides being a story writer, translator, editor, and critic; a former president of Poetry Circle, Bombay (Mumbai), an association of Indo-English poets. He edited POIESIS, the literary magazine of this poets’ association for eight years. His poems have been widely published, his own works and translation from the works of other poets. He has published three books of his poems and his poems have appeared in twenty anthologies in India and abroad.
Dilip Mohapatra
I have been searching
for the little me
who perhaps had been lost
in the wilderness of adulthood
or who maybe hiding
in some deep inaccessible recess
waiting for me
to seek him out
and rescue him from
the coils of the constrictor
of responsibilities and
the curse of maturity…
Why can’t I play
with the balloons
and board games
like Snakes and Ladders?
Why can’t I blow bubbles
and stare at the rainbows
on them till they burst?
Why can’t I run behind
a stringless kite or
a dragonfly on leash
once a while?
Why can’t I make those
odd-shaped animals
from the moulding clay?
Yes, you guys
surely would think
I am going bananas
and some of you even
blame it on my dotage
but why the hell should I care
as long as I set free
the little genie in me
who’s beseeching for freedom
and would give me
in return
my forgotten fun and frolic
those missing moments
of pure joy and innocence
and a new lease…
to my tired
and beleaguered life…
Dilip Mohapatra, a decorated Navy Veteran is a well acclaimed poet in contemporary English and his poems appear in many literary journals of repute and anthologies worldwide. He has seven poetry collections, one short story collection and two professional books to his credit. He is a regular contributor to Literary Vibes. He the recipient of multiple awards for his literary activities, which include the prestigious Honour Award for complete work under Naji Naaman Literary Awards for 2020. He holds the honorary title of ‘Member of Maison Naaman pour la Culture’. He lives in Pune and his email id is dilipmohapatra@gmail.com
Abani Udgata
Some thoughts:
(a)
I spoke to that bald friend
standing tall at a distance
long enough for mere words
to get across.
A tree, it is bare or sparsely
dressed on most of the days.
Except this time of the year
when a few flowers sprout
on top, foretelling the summer,
only to wither away in days.
My friend says it is my spring,
though short lived, my only hope.
(b)
Next to that, a Kadamba in full bloom.
A gopika dressed to kill.
It’s red, hot finery resplendent
in the hot sun .
Up-turned flowers look direct
in the sun’s eyes and likely to
remain so thru the summer.
I do not need the spring, says Kadamba
I love this summer, the heat of love and life.
Now, my companion says
those are not poems, just thoughts.
All thoughts are poem, I tell her, and
that makes it so easy!
Abani Udgata lives in Bhubaneswar. Writes poems both in English and Odia. Udgata has been awarded in all-India poetry competitions and published in anthologies. He has been a regular contributor to LV. Email: abaniudgata@gmail.com
Snehaprava Das
We may stand together tomorrow
By a sunlit turnstile to wriggle out
Of this long trodden summer path
And go exploring another one that
Legthens beyond today,
If tomorrow comes!
Our paperboats may set out on
Another voyage across
The rivulets of monsoon rains
Tomorrow,
To discover a land lost yesterday
In the shadow of storm clouds,
If tomorrow comes!
The snowdusts scattered on the
Vase full of winter
That sits brooding between us
May gather up to bloom into
Spring flowers tomorrow,
If tomorrow comes!
Another sun may come up
Our sky tomorrow,
We will roll up the sheets carrying
Painted seasons and sketch
A chiaroscuro,
And step into each other's shadows
To melt and become obscure
If tomorrow comes!
Dr.Snehaprava Das, former Associate Professor of English, is an acclaimed translator of Odisha. She has translated a number of Odia texts, both classic and contemporary into English. Among the early writings she had rendered in English, worth mentioning are FakirMohan Senapati's novel Prayaschitta (The Penance) and his long poem Utkala Bhramanam, which is believed to be a.poetic journey through Odisha's cultural space(A Tour through Odisha). As a translator Dr.Das is inclined to explore the different possibilities the act of translating involves, while rendering texts of Odia in to English.Besides being a translator Dr.Das is also a poet and a story teller and has five anthologies of English poems to her credit. Her recently published title Night of the Snake (a collection of English stories) where she has shifted her focus from the broader spectrum of social realities to the inner conscious of the protagonist, has been well received by the readers. Her poems display her effort to transport the individual suffering to a heightened plane of the universal.
Dr. Snehaprava Das has received the Prabashi Bhasha Sahitya Sammana award The Intellect (New Delhi), The Jivanananda Das Translation award (The Antonym, Kolkata), and The FakirMohan Sahitya parishad award(Odisha) for her translation.
Sujata Dash
"A good story or a compelling tale
What is your preference?"
Grandma asked her favorite grandchild
As she whisked away the munchkin
To the corner room near the attic
Where she sprawled her tired limbs
To educe some rest and relief
I took time to weigh
As I was a toddler by then
And subtlety between the two
I was unable to comprehend
I sloppily chose story over a compelling tale
Grandma breathed a sigh of relief
Kicking her mind, she went on to narrate
It was about a mighty king
His leadership ,valiance and heroics
Parade of wealth and grandeur of opulence
Lavish expenditure during celebrations
Especially during coronations and marriages
She covered bit by bit
As if, to all those happenings she was privy
Her voice was soft and endearing
Akin to a lullaby
I fell asleep in a trice
As I was traveling since morning
But she did not stop nor whined
Continued even after I failed to listen
The nub behind, I could not realize
In a few years, I became an adolescent
She had added years to her age, by then
Her wrinkles grew in size and shape
But she looked graceful and resplendent
With her stooping posture and silvery mane
When evening dawned and night deepened
In our sleepy and non-descript village
The family had an early dinner
Some busied in playing ludo and carrom
Snake ladder and balloon ping pong
Some exchanged goodies and knickknacks with one another
But, I towed behind her to a secluded place thereafter
To wrap myself with her warmth in right earnest
And of course chitter chatter at length
We talked and talked
Until it was very late and night deepened
She enquired "Are you sleepy?"
I said "Not at all granny"
"Then choose between the two honey,
A compelling tale or a regular story?"
I chose a compelling tale this time
And she readied herself to depict
She looked upward for a while, fell silent
Then babbled non stop like a wild jet
I could feel each utterance as she emoted
Perhaps! She lived to recount own experience
The love birds in the story had to part ways
Social order disapproved of their interfaith amours hence
I could feel drops of tears falling on my cheeks
A few times her voice choked even!
But she delivered through sobs and yammers
Like a first person narrative hooks up
The road she traversed for her lyrical ballad
Was like moves on a chess board
With no obvious shift or turn
But she negotiated like a deft player
She continued with the saga of romance
Till dawn eavesdropped
I was wide awake, listened with bated breath
As I was an adolescent by then
Could read between her lines,
Sense nuances and subtleties rendered
It seemed ,women have a repertoire of
Pent up emotions
So much to put forth, yet shy away from
I realized it thoroughly during the said nightfall.
Sujata Dash is a poet from Bhubaneswar, Odisha. She is a retired banker.She has four published poetry anthologies(More than Mere-a bunch of poems, Riot of hues and Eternal Rhythm and Humming Serenades -all by Authorspress, New Delhi) to her credit.She is a singer,avid lover of nature. She regularly contributes to anthologies worldwide.
THE WEIGHT OF WORDS & THE SONG WITHIN!
Shri Satish Pashine
Words can wound when ego stays,
Holding tight in stubborn ways.
Like glass that cracks with whispered lies,
It shatters when the self denies.
Don’t take everything to heart,
Not every word is yours to own.
The world moves in its own rhythm,
Let it be, just let it flow.
Yet truth may sting, its touch is real,
A wound that hurts but helps us heal.
Not all pain is meant to bind,
Some just open up the mind.
Look within, know yourself,
Find the song that’s truly yours.
Sing it loud, sing it free,
Let it echo, let it soar.
Not every whisper, not every glance,
Needs a place inside your mind.
Some things are better left behind,
Not all burdens are yours to find.
To see, to learn, to rise anew,
Takes strength to face what once we knew.
For those who seek and dare to grow,
Find wisdom’s light in letting go.
So break away, breathe again,
Not everything deserves your fight.
Sing your song, sing it true,
And step into your own light.
Shri Satish Pashine is a Metallurgical Engineer. Founder and Principal Consultant, Q-Tech Consultancy, he lives in Bhubaneswar and loves to dabble in literature.
Avantika Vijay Singh
on the tide we cruise,
in a motorised barge, looking for views
of the sunset in the river…
how wrong I could be—you must consider,
for a sunset is not something to see
but something to feel, to touch free
and to revel in the wonder
as the fragile fabric of your being is torn asunder
the crimson sun sinks rapidly into the river
setting hearts in symphony to quiver
but darkness does not immediately follow
instead, remains a reddish orange glow
like the embers from a dying fire
softly glowing, suffusing into my soul’s fibre—
and into this soft saffron glow
the motorised barge climbs slow…
the tide flows high, like my emotions
bobbing on time’s oceans
and I am suffused in that glow
as waves of bliss grow
in eternal time, I dissolve and flow
at one with the rippling river
which now within me flows
sat-chit-anand…
Avantika Vijay Singh is a communications professional, wearing the hats of a writer, editor, poet, researcher, and photographer. She has authored two solo anthologies, edited three anthologies, and has been published in national and international journals. She received the Nissim International Award Runner Up 2023, WE Gifted Poet 2024, and WE Illumination Award 2024.
Dr. Saroj K. Padhi
Oft' I listen
to screams of ashes
beneath hectares of jungle burning,
crying piteously for thousands of species
that died out and are still dying-
their sad shadows trailing
the graveyard of humanity, waning;
flowers shed drops of dew
over cracks of Earth
that waits to burst
into a big bowl of infertile dust,
ghosts of our forefathers
are still chant on lines
from pages of saint-poets
about the mythical deluge
overtaking the twenty-two steps
and tiny fishes playing
at the door
of our helpless Lord
who silently perches inside the sanctorum
in his apathetic stance,
turning deaf
to cries of clans
in terror of Tsunami rising;
the world is yet to go miles
ere understanding Nature,
its eco-culture
how itself to save and nurture,
before perishing like vulture !
The dead colorful
chameleons with their claws
caught in skin of Champak trees
of my old village look on
at an illusion of dancing flowers
and mad, hunting bees,
when ashes whisper about
imminent death of many more
into ears of a hot breeze.
We could hardly save them-
those beautiful animals, birds and bees
who passed into the vault of archives
still untraceable to keen eyes
as golden whispers turn into sighs;
we couldn’t save our girls
from falling prey to moneyed thighs,
our cows from swords of hate kill,
our women work force
from stark exploitation
and we, ourselves, from rotten lies !
Our so-called sane society
is caught in a mad race
for bucks and sex
with its conscience
dumped into dustbin;
the gender games
go on as before
though in a lower key
with Kourav’s maneuvering board
and Sakuni’s villainous bone-dice;
with poor law bound to books
and our justice, away from reality,
moved thrice !
In such times of middle age dark
hanging over the post-moderns,
I still pray to my Lord to hark
to distressed humans’
howl and bark
and save the world
from jaws of wounded patriarchal shark !
Non-stop fog rains thro’ ruptures
of our shacks’ polythene roof
dampening prayers
that turn dark like overhanging soot,
like bereaved Kash flowers
mourning over submerged crops
with dead root
on our sullen river bank
into which all our toil hopelessly sank.
Under petals’ ashen appearance
lurk million threats
of climate change, acid rain,
drought and famine,
when our wishes lose color
in waters of despair
at river’s mouth, turned brine.
All our noble wishes
fuelled by dreams
are belied by nations
flexing belligerent muscles;
some still
raining fires to quench ire;
we aren't anymore
safe on this earth,
in threshold
of perennial shadow war,
with drones lurking in air,
AI sans conscience
wounding the just and fair,
with climate, gone nuts
spilling carcass everywhere !
As I sit praying to my Lord,
to all the thirty three crore
gods and goddesses
(all gods in Hindu pantheon are
manifestations of one God )
to visit the earth and see
how best of his creatures are stricken with
deadly virus of war
as deadly weapons loom on the horizon
waiting to pierce the heart of human civilization.
Alas! Our lord sneers at false smiles
as the world sinks still deeper
into lust for bucks and more of guiles !
Saroj K. Padhi is a retired Professor of English from Govt. of Odisha . Born in 1962, he has been writing poems in English and Odia since his school days. Till date he has published innumerable poems in most of the leading magazines/journals of the country and abroad. He has published two books of criticism and 16 anthologies of poetry in English namely PEARLS OF DEW, SHATTERED I SING , RHYMING RIPPLES, PETALS IN PRAYER, SILENT SIGHT, MOON MOMENTS , A SLICE OF SILENCE , ELUSIVE SPRING, MONSOON MEMORIES, WHERE BUDS REFUSE TO BLOOM, THE ENDLESS FLUTTER, STARS IN THE COVID SKY, IMPULSE FROM WOODS, SELECTED POEMS , EMBERS FROM OLD FIRE and WHISPERING ASHES ( 2025).
Some of his poems like ‘BLACK PAGODA AT NIGHT’ have been introduced in school and college syllabuses.
" Saroj has carved for himself a high place among contemporary Indian poets in English. His phenomenal contribution to poetry would certainly inspire and influence budding poets to write meaningful poems, distinguished by weight of substance and sublime style."
---Eminent Prof of English, Dr Satish Kumar, in his book of criticism, A SURVEY OF INDIAN ENGLISH POETRY( Pbd. By P.B.D., BAREILLY )
"To read Saroj’s poetry is a musical journey through a land full of beautiful images. These poems not only provide solace and respite to the worn- out mind, but also regale the ears with music. Words fail to describe; it can only be enjoyed by reading first hand to sail to the sky and swim on rapturous waves. He, now , comfortably sits on the citadel of Indian English poetry and shall be guiding the posterity of emerging poets with his magic ." ( Foreword, THE ENDLESS FLUTTER, p.11)
--Poet-critic D. C.Chambial
"Saroj K Padhi's poems have an instant appeal as facets of our lives come through straightway...His lines are rich, satisfying. He is the poet who has the ability to snatch colors from flowers and cover the stark whiteness of our bones."
--Poet Jayanta Mahapatra
Saroj, in his poem, ‘Wounded World’ raises some relevant issues fighting for possible resolution so that humankind lives in peace. He wants to get rid of present imbroglio where identity and survival confront challenges and distortions but still optimism permeates not only in his nature lyrics but also in a socially conscious poet, who appears a protagonist of the underprivileged segment of society, and that speaks enough for his powerful ‘serious’ poetry.
--Eminent critic P.C K PREM,in his review of his 11th poetry collection titled The Endless Flutter: A Supremely Edifying Experience.
Saroj has been designated as AMBASSADOR OF PEACE , INDIA BRANCH by World Institute of Peace in 2016. He has received ROCK PEBBLES NATIONAL LITERARY AWARD (instituted by international journal ROCK PEBBLES) in 2017 and the INTERNATIONAL ENCHANTING MUSE AWARD (instituted by PENTASI INDIA WORLD POETRY FESTIVAL) in 2017 . Literary organization PHILOSOPHIQUE POETICE DE ANAND has conferred LIFE TIME LOVE AND PEACE AWARD on him in 2018.
He has been awarded and felicitated by myriad literary organisations, schools, colleges and universities inside Odisha and outside.
You can reach him at: skpadhi407@gmail.com and M: 7008375307
Hema Ravi
A sudden radiance spreads across the azure sky
Ferocious winds temporarily give way to a gentle breeze
Parachutes unfurl to ensure ‘controlled descent.’
With bated breaths, and prayers on lips, millions watch
virtually the Capsule’s splashdown into the
Atlantic Ocean; the watery cushion absorbs the colossal impact.
Copious tears and joyous cries fill the skies
A pod of dolphins propel forward to welcome the visitors
watch with great curiosity and amusement as the ‘Response Team’
place the ‘Dragon’ atop the vessel.
The heat shield protects astronauts by reducing
3500-degree ‘heat force’ to dissipate before splashdown
Rigorous physical training coupled with nerves of steel
proved companions to Suni and Butch.
Their triumphant smiles-- etched in frames
as they were carried off on stretchers
for medical evaluation and rehabilitation.
When eight days turned into two eighty-six days
What kept them going? My fainthearted mind speculated --
Was it the intensive training, determined grit,
faith in the Divine – the Bhagavad Gita
the Ganesha idol, the iconic view
of the Kumbh Mela… prayers from parents, families, others…
A victorious historical trip- the adrenaline rush
still lingers…. a calming voice from afar – Shush!
Hema Ravi is a poet, author, reviewer, editor (Efflorescence), independent researcher and resource person for language development courses... Her writings have been featured in several online and international print journals, notable among them being Metverse Muse, Amaravati Poetic Prism, International Writers Journal (USA), Culture and Quest (ISISAR), Setu Bilingual, INNSAEI journal and Science Shore Magazine. Her write ups and poems have won prizes in competitions.
She is the recipient of the Distinguished Writer International Award for excellence in Literature for securing the ninth place in the 7th Bharat Award, conducted by www.poesisonline.com. In addition, she has been awarded a ‘Certificate of Appreciation’ for her literary contributions by the Gujarat Sahitya Academy and Motivational Strips on the occasion of the 74th Independence Day (2020) and again. conferred with the ‘Order of Shakespeare Medal’ for her writing merit conforming to global standards.(2021). She is the recipient of cash prizes from the Pratilipi group, having secured the fourth place in the Radio Romeo Contest (2021), the sixth place in the Retelling of Fairy Tales (2021), the first prize in the Word Cloud competition (2020) and in the Children’s Day Special Contest (2020). She scripted, edited, and presented radio lessons on the Kalpakkam Community Radio titled 'Everyday English with Hema,' (2020) a series of lessons for learners to hone their language skills. Science Shore Magazine has been featuring her visual audios titled ‘English Errors of Indian Students.’
A brief stint in the Central Government, then as a teacher of English and Hindi for over two decades, Hema Ravi is currently freelancer for IELTS and Communicative English. With students ranging from 4 to 70, Hema is at ease with any age group, pursues her career and passion with great ease and comfort. As the Secretary of the Chennai Poets’ Circle, Chennai, she empowers the young and the not so young to unleash their creative potential efficiently
Asim Ranjan Parhi
My past,
Why did I always regret you
Why did I try to look beyond you and despise you
Or, made you my lost word’s cursed host
Oh, past, why did you hold me so often,
While not being loyal to Time
Or, my vicious fortunes prime
I shall make you my muse
Acting ahead of ‘forgive and forget’
And not go to Byzantium but
Spun in this mythic purging of the unpurged
Submit to the timeless thorns of your bleeding heart,
For you have bled perennially
And have sought more of your followers
In Time, in Space
In the myriad moments of life’s beauty and grace
Of whatever is old, new or unborn
I, a mere leaf on the flight of strife
A tall promise in the dull abyss
Resurrect in past,
For I do not have miles to go before I sleep
And outdo the Last
I would, rather
Re-live your faint bygones
And their history overcast.
Asima Ranjan Parhi is Professor and Head, Department of English at Utkal University, Odisha. He was formerly the Dean, Faculty of Languages, Professor and Head of the Department of English at Rajiv Gandhi Central University, Arunachal Pradesh. Author of a book Indian English through Newspapers, Parhi has published a number of research papers in Translation Studies (CIIL), Indian Literature (Sahitya Akademi), Journal of English and Foreign Languages (EFLU), Studies in Humanities and Social Sciences (IIAS), International Journal of Multidisciplinary Thought, Journal of media and Communication Studies, a Monograph from Sahitya Akademi, book chapters in publications from Springer and Routledge. An Associate of Indian Institute of Advanced Study, Shimla, Parhi pursues an interest in ELT, Translation Studies and Children’s literature. Recently he has published an anthology of poems titled Of Sons and Fathers from Pakhsighara, Bhubaneswar. His forthcoming publications include an edited anthology on Gopinath Mohanty and Tales from Sarala Mahabharata in prose from Sahitya Akademi, New Delhi.
HAS KINDNESS TAKEN A BACKSEAT .
Sangeeta Dey (Roy)
Shower petals of kindness ,
On the auburn cracks of disillusioned, weathered, beaten Earth
To stabilize the shaky hopelessness
Of hearts.
Even the mighty sun will soften it’s harsh gaze
On seeing smiles emanating from listeless face.
Kindness builds the most illuminating wonderland,
Greater than the towery palaces of lifeless wealth and might.
It’s a garment adorned by maganimous hearts.
Which pounds gently ,reminding of God’s infinite love.
Beyond this materialistic shore,
Lies a garden,
Whose golden gate writes in bold
Enter those who left behind the script
Of Love , kindness and goodwill.
However the garden isn’t the reason to be kind.
You are kind because you harbour this emotions,
As a human.
And a heart that rejoices in a kind deed or word,
Can hear the voice of God and is enveloped with serene joy,
Even against the piercing odds.
The human kingdom is designed to radiate kindness,
Germinate it’s seeds in all the shadowed corners.
Kindness isn’t a lesson to be learnt.
It’s the genes a human needs to transfer.
It’s a awakening of the conscience in
Those who have shut the door to this vibrant ,aromatic splashes of contagious colour.
For kindness is the stampmark of human kindergarden ,
That rains life and makes one humane.
However the heart sinks on seeing some muddy lanes ,
Where kindness never settled in those sleepy, wrinkled brains.
.jpg)
Sangeeta Dey (Roy) is a author poet fiction and non-fiction essayist who has been published widely nationally and internationally in several magazines, souvenirs, newspapers ,e journals, national and international anthologies, including Teesta Review ,The Mountain Was Abuzz ,Kabita Live, IPPL Journal, Flame in the Distant Mountain, Different Truths, Soul Connection, Spillwords etc.
Author of two debut books of poems “Whispers In The Blue “and “Twilight in the Woodland”.
She’s the teacher by profession and hails from Haflong Assam.
Jaydeep Sarangi
Games in love lost or won, a stone
is a solitary traveller to sit on
not knowing whether the earth
with its pink tongue would let it
find a moment in the memory- white chill.
Returning to all sweetness, lush greenery
promises and smiles created our own whiff
flooding our hearts, birds cooing happily
in regions of faith, sweet daily chores of calling,
walking through the river banks holding hands tight and taut.
Words within are no cold faces, commentaries or scripts
eager for each other when maps shall fade, the vigil end,
all blush in the Himalayas, rhododendron valleys.
Silent prayers. What else is love?
Today’s weather is our moods, confessions, piedra de sol
Sunstones go and comes back tenderly by the flashes, lights and poems.
Our groans for more have no mouth, only love scratches of intimate times…
Jaydeep Sarangi
Words are loaded with silences random,
many windows holding images and conceits
touching the rainbows in the limitless blue.
The queen of words has many rooms to her fashion,
lived with shades she keeps words as her guardian sylphs
hovering around and protecting her from the valour of poets.
In this pristine air notes she keeps, holds in phrases.
Her happiness heals wounds of the walls elsewhere.
Today, darkness has a voice, mysterious caller tones
my desire has an evening with my undisclosed mate.
All arrivals are welcome, dark clouds
some may rain, some will wait.
Pictures captured in time each day that passes
birds fly home before the crickets’ clamour,
Parral to Moorgate I hear her silence rising.
Jaydeep Sarangi
My dreams are lingering in the darkling dusk.
I plant them in the garden of faith
behind the bedroom, next to the guava tree, my father planted.
I see him sitting, reading and returning to my unsaid words for him.
Searching under these old books of Mathematics
for the last place where the long
journey with my father’s hopes is complete--
Ashoka, the great to Attila, the Hun
distinct nights snarl deep as I leave myself for the session with flowers.
Neruda to Seferis, Quasimodo to Jibananada
I feel the wind on my brown skin, bites of unfamiliar insects.
Jaydeep Sarangi is an Indian poet with ten poetry collections in English latest being Memories of Words, poetry activist and scholar on postcolonial studies and Indian Writings with forty one books anchored in Kolkata/Jhargram,.. With Rob Harle he has edited six anthologies of poems from Australia and India which are a wealthy literary link between the nations. With Amelia Walker, he has guest edited a special issue for TEXT, Adelaide (Australia). His recent books include, Mapping the Mind , Minding The Map:Twenty Contemporary Indian English Poets , Sahitya Akademi, 2023 and A Life Uprooted: A Bengali Dalit Refugee Remembers, Sahitya Akademi, 2023. Mapping the Mind, Minding the Map ( 2023, Sahitya Akademi) is his latest book. Sarangi is currently the President of Guild of Indian English Writers, Editors and Critics (GIEWEC) and Vice President, EC, Intercultural Poetry and Performance Library, Kolkata. Living with poets and poetry, Sarangi is principal of New Alipore College, KolkataHe may be reached at: jaydeepsarangi1@gmail.com Website : https://jaydeepsarangi.in/
Bipin Patsani
On the warm bed of memory
Lulu sleeps nude
Love kissing her closing eyes,
And the hair on her swelling breasts
Dance like the shades of Kadamb leaves
Dancing on the bank of the Yamuna.
The blanket goes down.
The yarns caress her weakening thighs
Like hungry hands roaming for oyster.
Lulu smiles in her dream.
It rains and to her joy
Breeds tiny bubbles under her bosom.
The bubbles die.
What yet remains is the rhythm
Enchanting her dream.
NB : This poem was written in 1975 on seeing the nude
under a blanket on the cover page of Sartre’s ‘INTIMACY’.
Lulu is the heroine of the title story.
Bipin Patsani
Love is the music
That opened my eyes
When I was born.
Love made me mourn and torn
And ripen gradually with age.
It is the music that thrills still
And makes everything beautiful.
What have you done to me, my love?
What magic have you done?
Since you kissed me
And smothered a spring-full of them,
I see thousands of green
Gleaming around;
I hear the murmurings
Of a million fountains
Flowing through and flowering
Some dark desert plains.
Rich like an ocean, happy
happy to see the Moon in its fullness,
I swell up, I am full.
I care not when I dry.
Bipin Patsani
When it is spring again
And you see the first flush
Of a delicate glow, vernal and virginal
In the eyes of a budding beauty,
The lustre in her charming face
Smiling with poetic grace,
A ripe mango ready for the bite,
Hanging on a vibrant branch,
You feel as if you are young again,
Full and fresh, streams bubbling up
As the all enveloping sense of beauty
Colours your calm consciousness
Like a holy dip in the ocean
Redeeming the self from all extremes.
Bipin Patsani (b. 1951) has published poems in many prestigious journals and poetry anthologies including Indian Literature, Chandrabhaga, Journal of Indian Writing in English, Indian Scholar, Kavya Bharati, Poetcrit, International Poetry and Prophetic Voices etc. He has been translated to Spanish and Portuguese. He has three poetry collections to his credit (VOICE OF THE VALLEY, ANOTHER VOYAGE and HOMECOMING). He is a recipient of Michael Madhusudan Academy Award/ 1996 and Rock Pebbles National Award in 2018. He did his Post Graduation in English at Ravenshaw College, Cuttack in 1975 and served as a teacher in Arunachal Pradesh for 34 years till his superannuation in 2012. He also received Arunachal Pradesh State Government’s Award in 2002 for his dedicated service as a teacher. He lives with his family at Barunei Colony, Badatota in Khordha District of Odisha, India.
Dr. Rajamouly Katta
whether nature loves man
or man loves nature
is the question for nature to answer
as nature loves man, hosting a feast
to man hostile to nature
birds amidst trees nurture the Shakuntala
as a baby when motherless
for nature is mother to offer shelter
mother of mothers
to offer air for breath and water for thirst
food for hunger, cool shades for cozy living
nature serves man in need
as a friend in need is a friend indeed
the beholders swing in enjoyment
revel in entertainment
nature offers ripe fruits in colour glow
and honey at the heart of flowers
in full bloom for man to palatal bliss
flowers sweeten by their fragrance
gladden man with honeyed substance,
there are multihued petals in variety
for the viewer’s plenty
there is the rainbow in the glow special
all to dance at its beautiful sight,
there are cuckoos, oriels and songbirds
to sing melodies man to ring in
their chirps and coos in overflows
for man’s most joyous moments,
at the glimpse of flowers in full bloom
please man by their petal soft touch
a heaven for man’s senses on earth
man is the most fortunate guest
to nature in hospitality as the host.
PARTS IN TOGETHERNESS FOR LIFE
Dr. Rajamouly Katta
a mansion is built on four pillars
with a slab on them as the roof
for a cozy shelter free from rain and rays
even a magician can’t build a mansion
without four pillars and a slab
to erect a mountain, a pillar-like-finger
in need by the supreme of superpower
plants can’t grow sans roots underground
even for trees grown unbound
as one depends on the other
a kite can’t fly without the thread
in support or it is the kite sans wings.
sans mother, there is no child
sans the tree, there is no seed
rays for photosynthesis
life is the product of synthesis
to breath air, to drink water, to eat food
for life to grow in glow,
the sign of all parts in function
gravity is the driving force
to have weight and strength
for life in oneness, an offer of togetherness
the body with all parts in the functions
the head, the hands and the legs
the heart, the liver, the lungs, and all
of their own ever in the conscious for life
we can’t expect one part to function
sans the other in support
parts in togetherness is life, one in oneness
for life, beauty for gaiety
Dr. Rajamouly Katta
in wholeness is beauty
dances to its fullness gaiety
it is the purity of jasmines
the path lit by shines
in the art to please the heart
In the power supernal on its part
shatters darkness
glitters in brightness
not fancy-hue show of hypocrisy
it’s indeed verity in secrecy,
not only a feast to the five senses
but to the mind’s senses in glimpses
all ecstasies in their overflow
the coo…coos of cuckoos in echo
the flower in full bloom with fragrance
with its petal texture in its vibrance
the breeze in its gentle touches
for tactile bliss the fruits in full ripeness
as the fest to the body and soul.
all feel slavish to the abundant whole
what more the senses crave on earth
all in plenty in heaven’s worth
nature’s wonders for pleasures
all preserved as invaluable treasures
all temporal to turn supernal
all ephemeral into eternal
to grow in the beehive of memories
to glow in untarnished in imageries
all to transcend the barriers of Time
it’s truth to reflect in poetry chime.
Dr. Rajamouly Katta, M.A., M. Phil., Ph. D., Professor of English by profession and poet, short story writer, novelist, writer, critic and translator by predilection, has to his credit 64 books of all genres and 344 poems, short stories, articles and translations published in journals and anthologies of high repute. He has so far written 3456 poems collected in 18 anthologies, 200 short stories in 9 anthologies, nine novels 18 skits. Creative Craft of Dr. Rajamouly Katta: Sensibilities and Realities is a collection of articles on his works. As a poet, he has won THIRD Place FIVE times in Poetry Contest in India conducted by Metverse Muse rajamoulykatta@gmail.com
Krishna Tulasi
"Why do you walk fast?", I screamed
As I ran towards him to hang on his arm
"Why are people different?", I asked
As I walked past the pavements with him
"Appa, give me some advice", I pestered
As I crossed the road innocently holding his index finger
When life stresses out and time isn't sweet
I just walk with him to the golgappa shop across the street
Even God can't elaborate the magic I sense
All the times I was anticipating for this walk
Therapy, pure therapy
It wasn't much but some schedule shifted for me
My busy appa, always free for me
It was just him and me in the crowded road
The talks weren't specific, it kept shifting
Sometimes about politics, sports and family
Sometimes on how I could've studied better
He became my accountability partner and had no idea
It's just relaxing, that walk towards the golgappa wala
I never hesitated to tell anything to him then
For his pretty eyes covered in mushy specs
Made me feel comfortable somehow
Now I walk faster, and miss him by my side
Now I am different, but he wouldn't have minded
Now I give advice to my hostel mates
I miss those days in BTM lanes
I miss those walks to the golgappa wala
I still close my eyes and think of those days
When I was lucky but never realised
All I ever need is a walk with appa
Sushree Gayatri Nayak
Not of womb, nor of clay,
Nor of any earthly ties,
She rose from the fire altar,
With embers in her eyes.
Her figure shone like gold,
Her face bloomed like a sunflower,
Her hands, like lotus petals—
A divine beauty with a spirit of fire.
Regal princess of Panchal,
Celestial, serene, and dazzling.
Her delicate charm allured all,
Her grace—fierce yet enthralling.
She accepted five husbands,
Honouring the hands of destiny.
She loved them, she served them,
Yet they failed to shield her dignity.
When Dushasan dragged her
To the middle of the royal court,
She waited for her husbands’ help,
Yet they stood silent, offering naught.
She cried for help. The great warriors
Did not come in the name of virtue.
In the middle of the scholars’ assembly,
She was humiliated—her pleas unheard too.
Envision her with a silver sword,
The flame princess, burning with zeal.
When no one answered her cries,
She fought the battle with nerves of steel.
When he pulled her saree,
Her silver armor shone bright.
She grasped her gleaming sword
And severed the hands of her culprit.
When waves of Kaurava soldiers
Stormed upon the lone fighter,
She did not hesitate to behead them—
She struck them down, led them to failure.
The pride of Duryodhana shattered,
The wisdom of the elders questioned,
Yet the dignity of a woman was saved—
And the great war never happened.
Sushree Gayatri Nayak is a budding muse and poet from Odisha, India. Currently pursuing her studies in English literature at Utkal University, she channels her passion for love, nature, and current social issues into heartfelt poetry. Her verses weave emotional depth with thought-provoking reflections, capturing both personal experiences and broader societal concerns.
Sulekha Sarkar
Dr Nanda Kishore Biswal
If in nearness love shows
its frail frame and all pallid,
standing poised on the soil of fear,
let it in that case stay afar,
where it grows curvy and full-bodied
to resonate in vibrancy there.
Love is a silent wonderment,
a star-studded luminous sky;
let it dwell deep in the heart
as a bounteous treasure
with the depth of a sea
and its unbound grandeur.
To locate which
let the lovers invent ways
to come closer
by not resorting to the old trick of
thinly veiled blandishment
or with an effusive praise brochure
to move on the heart’s way.
Dr Nanda Kishore Biswal, after teaching English language and literature for more than thirty five years in different colleges of Odisha, retired as an Associate professor. Passionate in reading poetry, intermittently, he has been writing poetry since his college days.1996 to1999 was his most fertile period when his Odia poems were published in almost all Odia dailies as well as in most of the Odia magazines. Also he writes English poems. He has authored The Fictional Transfiguration of History in the Novels of Salman Rushdie, Amitav Ghosh and Rohinton Mistry. Besides, he has edited Prananath Patnaik:A purveyor of Egalitarianism Currently, he is engaged in writing reviews of the poetry collections of the new poets who write in English.
Tophan Khilar
GLASS FLOWERS (THEY BECOME TRANSPARENT IN RAIN)
Dr. Paramita Mukherjee Mullick
Opaque, white and pristine.
Shyly shaking on the branch.
Secretive, scared to share all.
Young and vulnerable.
Rain splashes on the petals and
They become colourless and transparent.
They open up and share all.
The rain of pain and happiness have matured them.
No longer are they shy and vulnerable.
They want to share, care and spread happiness.
Dr. Paramita Mukherjee Mullick is a scientist, a national scholar transformed into a globally loved, award-winning poet. Her poems have been translated into 40 world languages and she has published 9 books. A globe trotter she loves calling herself a global citizen. Not only does she write poems but she promotes peace poetry, multilingual poetry, global poetry and passionately promotes indigenous poetry. Paramita believes that by promoting indigenous languages, she can bring some endangered languages into the main stream. In 2019, she got the Gold Rose from MS Production, Buenos Aires, Argentina for promotion of Literature and Culture. Apart from many awards like the Sahityan Samman in 2018, Nobel Laureate Rabindranath Tagore award in 2019, Poetess of Elegance 2019 and many more she was one of the recipients of the prestigious Panorama International Literature award from Greece in 2022. Paramita is the President and Initiator of the Mumbai Chapter of the Intercultural Poetry and Performance Library (IPPL) and also the Cultural Convenor and Literary Coordinator (West India) of the International Society for Intercultural Studies and Research (ISISAR).
Nisha Luthra
Mrs. Nisha Luthra is a distinguished poet, , playwright, and director with a significant presence in both theatre and film. She is the founder and director of The Narrators Performing Arts Society in India and oversees Kalakshetra, a subsidiary of The Narrators. Additionally, she holds the position of Head of India for The Leinster School of Music and Drama in Ireland.
Nisha is the author of "Uns," a Hindi poetry collection that has been translated into 6 languages: Hindi, English, Urdu, Punjabi, Assamese, French and Oriya. She is credited with pioneering the trend of launching books alongside Art-Lit Adaptations—stage performances inspired by literary works. Under her guidance, The Narrators has garnered acclaim for its independent theatre productions, educational shows, book launches featuring Art-Lit adaptations, as well as workshops for institutions and corporations, including breath and healing workshops related to film projects.
Her films, such as "Brinda," "Outside The Safehouse," and "The Sehgal House," have received numerous accolades both nationally and internationally for their exceptional writing and direction. Notably, "Outside The Safehouse" was created to support the LGBTQ community and premiered at the Embassy of India in Ireland.
Sreechandra Banerjee
May the swings of Spring
usher in
colours of joy,
that would buoy
health and happiness
and
wealth of resplendence.
Happy Holi
Copyright Sreechandra Banerjee.
All rights reserved.
No part of this poem and photo can be reproduced by anyone.
Sreechandra Banerjee is a Chemical Engineer who has worked for many years on prestigious projects. She is also a writer and musician and has published a book titled “Tapestry of Stories” (Publisher “Writers’ Workshop). Many of her short stories, articles, travelogues, poems, etc. have been published by various newspapers and journals like Northern India Patrika (Allahabad), Times of India, etc. Sulekha.com has published one of her short stories (one of the awardees for the month of November 2007 of Sulekha-Penguin Blogprint Alliance Award) in the book: ‘Unwind: A Whirlwind of Writings’.
There are also technical publications (national and international) to her credit, some of which have fetched awards and were included in collector’s editions.
Leena Thampi
Leena Thampi is a renowned author and entrepreneur, celebrated for her captivating writing style that transcends the ordinary. With five published books and numerous articles featured internationally, her work has garnered widespread recognition and accolades.She was recently honored as the "Women Face of the Year 2024" by Fox Story India, in recognition of her multifaceted talents.Leena has received more than hundred honours from across the globe including the Rabindranath Tagore honours and Gujarat Sahitya Akademi honours from the world writers forum .
Her unique blend of luminous prose, magical realism, myths, and raw realities of life invites readers into a world of wonder and introspection. Her deep passion for music, coupled with expertise in entrepreneurship, relationship coaching, and child psychology, enriches her narratives with a distinctive perspective.
All her five books are available worldwide on Amazon.
Sudipta Mishra
The orange sky unfurls a myriad of secrets
I save promises galore to start a day
Welling emotion bedews the leaves
Sunshine is the diffusive desire
Chirping birds mesmerize the moment
A circle begins to form its entities
The darkness fades into the bright air of the day
Blooming flowers dance with joy
With a yellow shine,
every grey thing evolves into a golden passion
Everyone knows the reasons for this celebration
By praying to the almighty,
they feel such an eternal bliss
It is a glory to be a part of this carnival
The festivity begins with a sunny day
By merging with the divine rays
All the creatures of the Earth merrily stay!
Sudipta Mishra is a versatile artist known for her work as a poet, translator, reviewer and editor.
She has authored many books including titles like " The Essence of Life" and"The Songs of My Heart". Her recent book, "Beyond the Pandemic", explores the impact of covid 19. Mishra has received prestigious awards such as the Rabindranath Tagore Memorial, Mahadevi Verma Sahitya Siromani Award . She advocates social justice in her writings and is pursuing a PhD degree in English .
Nandini Mitra
Eyes don't want to sleep,
They vacantly stare at the darkness
outside
Pondering the unknown,
Blackness engulfs the night,
So bleak and empty,
A feeling of isolation grips the soul,
Absolutely mesmerising.
Street lamps are not enough
To trap the light,
City silently immerses in a vaccum,
I wait in dark for the dawn,
With patience aplenty.
Time is a ringmaster,
Controls and orders,
In life's circus we turn jokers
As we master different roles
To fit numerous situations,
Men with painted faces throng the steets,
Behind each frown there's a mystery,
Very deep and gloomy,
Am I not one of them?
I dream and dare to tread
The tightrope of reality
Like a star in my own domain.
Nandini Mitra is a poet based in Kolkata. A post- graduate in English Literature from Jadavpur University. She is in the profession of teaching for last twenty -five years. She has published her first book of poetry,The Road To Tranquility, recently. Has worked as a freelance journalist for a prestigious Bengali magazine published from Kolkata. She is passionate about Music and is a trained classical singer. However, writing poetry has become an integral part of Nandini’s journey of life since 2011. She believes in the religion of humanity, compassion and love. She has a rich sense of metaphors and imageries and enthusiastic about weaving poetry relating to the realities of lives and the diversities of nature. Her poems have featured in various national and international anthologies.
Matralina Pati
Once, you were a rose in full splendour,
A bloom that sang of eternity.
But time, that silent sculptor,
Has carved your petals into brittle whispers,
Your fragrance now a fading prayer.
Even so, I cradle you still,
Your crumbling form a testament—
In decay, there lingers a quiet grace,
And in this wilting, a memory blooms
That I will never release.
Matralina Pati
Shadows coil and murmur at my edges,
Their voices sharp with doubt,
A ceaseless dirge pulling me deeper
Into the tangled maze of self.
Yet amidst this symphony of despair,
I etch words into the void—
Each verse a torch,
Each line a refuge.
Through the labyrinth of silence,
I craft a litany:
A call for peace to break the storm.
Matralina Pati, is a PhD research scholar working on marginal Indian bhasha literature (UGC Junior Research Fellow), a bilingual poet and a translator from Bankura, West Bengal. Her critical and creative writings have been published on national and international platforms. She has authored a book of translations titled Monsoon Seems Promising This Year (selected poems of postmodern poet Rudra Pati translated from Bengali into English).
Dr. Protiva Rani Karmaker
Every moment is standing still in the crowd of rhythmless footsteps.
You, I, and he are walking in the same endless circle each day,
Breathing out carbon dioxide and inhaling oxygen to repeat the way,
Merging life with mobility as if waves are touching the lonely bay,
The boy is looking through the broken lens in the morning ray,
Where loved one has abandoned him, mocking his poetic soul,
One day, feeling depressed inside, he started walking toward the unknown,
Trying to hide himself from the recycling webs of life known,
When hunger gnawed at him, he discovered no beauty in the moonlit sky,
And returned to his busy earth of life as it seemed to him best friend to live
And lead life rather to die!!!
Dr. Protiva Rani Karmaker is an accomplished writer and columnist for national dailies, renowned for her contributions to education, youth development, and literature. As a professor and first director at the Institute of Modern Languages, Jagannath University, her expertise spans literature, education and research. She has authored twelve books by Bangladeshi renewed publishers, 01 book by Indian publisher, 22 journal articles and 200 columns. In recognition of her exceptional work, she received the International ERUDITE SCHOLAR 2022 award from the Council for Teacher Education Foundation (CTEF), India, and the International Award of Academic Excellence and Leadership 2024 by the Council for Educational Administration and Management (CEAM) India.
Arpita Priyadarsini
The last time
I looked out of the window
Was to count the exact number of falling stars
That didn't choose to come my way
But rather got distracted
I roam all around my existence
To find one little ounce of you
Still existing in some secret corner
Of my heart
I try gulping down the fact
That nothing stays forever
Yet the fact
That you once existed
Gives me hopes of monsoon and fall
The last time I smiled
Reminded me of this cruel world
That sucks out
The exact amount of happiness
That one needs to survive
And then asks them
Their reasons of dying
I look around
And find none
So I succumb myself to misery
And half a sip of caffeine
I find pieces of me
Lying over the parchment of love
Badly screaming
To take out the thorns
That still aches
At some particular places
I try and pick the pieces
In order to stitch them down together
But all I know is how autumn
Has taken over me and my soul
I look around to find peace
And a rough puncture on my ribcage
Tells me to look after it's act of rebellion
So I hold the colour red
And write PEACE in capital
My love is a cascade
Flowing betwixt
The aches of yesterday
And the hopes of tomorrow
Yet finding it's way out smoothly
I smell of leftover wishes
Written all over the half burnt pages of their diaries
That they've long forgotten
In the castle of their curse
So I wait for them
To decipher every inch of me
And then
Abandon me with a little grace
And a lot more agony
Arpita Priyadarsini, I`m currently working under Home department, Government of Odisha, has keen interest in literature. She loves reading fiction and poetry. She started writing poems few years back and has been published by an international publication house twice. Her Instagram handle is @elly__.writes, which is solely dedicated to her love for poetry.
Shreeya Sampada
Shreeya Sampada is a multifaceted artist who has a keen interest in classical music and dance from her infancy.She has received numerous accolades by winning state level competitions in music. As a girl of fourteen, she delves deep into the intricacies of Nature and life for adding colour to her canvas. With a noble ambition of being a doctor in future, she nurtures her time in serving the people around her. She is currently studying in a High School in Puri, Odisha.
Sheena Rath
Sheena Rath
Sheena Rath is a post graduate in Spanish Language from Jawaharlal Nehru University Delhi, later on a Scholarship went for higher studies to the University of Valladolid Spain. A mother of an Autistic boy, ran a Special School by the name La Casa for 11 years for Autistic and underprivileged children. La Casa now is an outreach centre for social causes(special children, underprivileged children and families, women's health and hygiene, cancer patients, save environment) and charity work.
Sheena has received 2 Awards for her work with Autistic children on Teachers Day. An Artist, a writer, a social worker, a linguist and a singer (not by profession)
Chaitrakana Pati
Chaitrakana Pati, a student of the 10th standard, finds joy in expressing herself through poetry in English. She has a deep appreciation for literature and a quiet passion for painting, both of which inspire her creative journey. Alongside her love for the arts, she enjoys music and has a keen interest in storytelling. She loves nature and enjoys exploring new spheres of knowledge. With a curious mind and a thoughtful approach to creativity, she continues to explore and learn as she hopes to grow as a writer and an artist along the way.
Harisankar Sreedharan
Harisankar Sreedharan is a banker by profession. Retired from service in 2020. Still active in the profession. Pursuing interests in literature - poetry and drama. Associated with the theatre movement. Own creations are in Malayalam. Occasionally write English poems too.
A Traveller... fascinated by the time unframed in places - seemingly enjoying the whiff of smoke from cooking pots and tea kettles, smothered by the conversion among the local people .... to stand, watch and let the world pass by ..
Passionate driver, bike rider and trainer.
Sukanya Kunju
Sukanya V Kunju is a postgraduate in English language and literature from St.Michaels College, Alappuzha. Most of her poems have been published in Literary Vibes. She is an aspiring poet. She is the co-author of the book Dusk and Dawn.
Kabyatara Kar
Life is a wholesome pleasantry gift to us .
We grow in different phases with experiences
Life comes with the curse of Hurts
Hurts of life shape us to grow stronger and sharper.
Hurts teach us to deal with the worst and the broken state of mind.
Hurts drag us towards a better perspective of life.
Hurts polish us enshining us as best Human being.
It enlightens our minds as to how much you can be misused and bruised.
It braids the entangled thoughts of ours mind.
It very silently destroys the morality of a person.
It leads towards modification of human and creates a new destiny.
Hurts create a new being.
It is so hurting!!!!
Dr Kabyatara
MBA, PG ( Nutrition and Dietetics, Botany)
Ph D in Education
Member of All India Human Rights Association
Member of Hope (Cancer Kids)
Teacher with Guru Nanak Public School, Cuttack
Dr. Mrutyunjay Sarangi
Long after the night
drops silently into the sea
The waves stop for a moment
to look at each other
and ask the all important question
why were they made?
If all beings are to melt into nothingness,
they ask, what's the point
in rising and falling, falling and rising,
If everything ends in tragic silence
why should they roar their life out,
Why should the moon shed her light on them,
if darkness is their truth.
The lonely traveller, tottering on the sidewalk,
gingerly keeps off the grass,
he knows the grass needs to breathe
and has a right to live,
untrampled by a stranger
He knows when he reaches home
someone will be ready with the answers.
He knows, everyone travels a weary path
to find the answers at the end of it.
The sea, the birds, the waves
All look for answers, waiting for years,
Everyone must return home one day
And sleep in peace, in total surrender
Sans any worries, sans any questions.
Dr. Mrutyunjay Sarangi is a retired civil servant and a former Judge in a Tribunal. Currently his time is divided between writing poems, short stories and editing the eMagazine LiteraryVibes . Four collections of his short stories in English have been published under the title The Jasmine Girl at Haji Ali, A Train to Kolkata, Anjie, Pat and India's Poor, The Fourth Monkey. He has also to his credit nine books of short stories in Odiya. He has won a couple of awards, notably the Fakir Mohan Senapati Award for Short Stories from the Utkal Sahitya Samaj. He lives in Bhubaneswar.
Viewers Comments