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The Mandala


By Shruti Chaturvedi


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Take My Hand, Take My Whole Life Too


By Shruti Chaturvedi


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Happy Birthday, Shruti!!!

My Dear Dear Shruti!!

Birthdays, to be honest, are just like any other day. The sun still rises and sets, fishes still swim, the horses continue to run, we still have college, we still attend classes (or we can choose to bunk :P), breakups do happen, love still conquers, you are still you and I’m still me and all that…….But what makes them special is how we chose to see that day. We can choose to treat birthdays the same as any other day, or you can do an 180 degree and turn the ordinary to extraordinary. And you’ve got this down to a pat!!

I absolutely love your enthusiasm!! I remember, during January, you were like “Guess what, my birthday’s coming!!”. And ever month after that you just got more and more excited.

And today, on April 10th (finally!! :P), I’ve seen you at your brightest, most excited, and everything just most… You not only make the day special for you, but for everyone else too. In the 2 years I’ve known you, I can honestly say that your birthdays are one of the few birthdays I can remember very well (even better than mine). And one of the few birthdays I look forward to, just to see your enthusiasm and the purest form of joy. It’s very infectious!!

I hope you always remain this bubbly, beautiful girl that you are on this very very special day. Always. On this day, it’s just you, nothing else matters.

Many, many, many happy returns of the day, Shruti!!! I love you  ❤

– Laksara

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I remember our first sight,
Eyes met, swept and clouded mind.
Our passions soared high,
To nigh?

I remember our first night,
Under the moonlit starlight.
Toes curled, fingers furled, body arched and sight dark,
Was I purblind?

I remember our first day,
As man and wife.
Inseparable hands and smiles, a dream come true,
Or just a wishful thought? A n‘mare to start?

I remember our first fight,
Seething eyes and biting words.
With slamming doors and tearful woes,
Eyes shut to the omens?

I remember that day,
When I saw you with her.
Maybe a sister, a friend, a lover?
Why did I not catechise?

I remember that hour,
Well into the night
As you slithered silently out the door, like sand through my fingers,
Oh, why did I?

I am here tonight,
As I lay, too weak to stay,
As my spirit awaits the grim, my body the dissolution.
As I contemplate our decade.

When did the wings shear, the angles’ songs cease?
Were we born wingless? Were the devils in guise?
Or was it just a rumor of flights and carols, and of feathers and celeste,
That kept nos afloat as we sank?

My love, let me see you once final,
Just another touch, a kiss, a clasp.
Just another word,
Of love, of rue, of plea, of regret.

Oh, my unrequited love,
As I ever have and forever will.
One Last time,
My amore, my consort, my bower, my obelisk.

My eyes closed, I mediate.
Mayhap destined to fail,
For you ne’er came,
As I wither alone, my final exhale.

                                        – Laksara

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Atria - Vibrantina
By Atria Das
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Paint Our Nails Together


By Shruti Chaturvedi


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By Shruti Chaturvedi
Posted in Literature, Menu

The Predator

I wait. Wait in silence.

I have waited for a hundred thousand years,

And I will have a hundred thousand more.

For my prey. For the prey to come.


I stay still. Still as a statuette.

Patient as a priest, quite as the dead,

For I have all the time in the world.

In my world,

I am the king and the kingdom.


I feel. Feel my senses flare..

The eyes that see miles to come,

The ears that hear the bats sing and then some.

The skin, taut as muscles, strong as bones,

Are all mine. Mine alone.


My prey. The prey comes near.

And anticipation sets here.

For its soft skin. It’s racing heart, Music to my ears

For the slick, sticky sweet crimson elixir,

Making thousand little promises,

Of happiness, satisfaction and gratification,

And oh, so much more.


I smile. Smile to myself.

For I am no longer the prey.

I was once, not knowing.

My true nature. My true form. My true strength.

I am God of the prey,

I am the hunter.

The predator.



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Being Badass

By Shruti Chaturvedi
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Here’s Your Knife Back

By Shruti Chaturvedi