Jottings of a lone voyage


An article by Vansika Pareek, CSE.

They say my body is a temple, isn’t it? Yes, it is. The demons want to rub their hands and feet on the holy idols to wash off their sins, the cowards want to sink in their black bodies; now, what I really want to tell you is that I am AFRAID. I really am. I have fought on feminism like my long lost daughter, I have tried to steal the nectar of Samundra- MANTHAN to make it immortal but that was when, when I felt protected. This day I don’t feel like a fighter but an already raped victim for who says that rape is just the naked body, it all starts from when the feeling of insecurity grasps every nerve. So let me tell you the story. This bus journey is priced; the first alone voyage; my confidence is on a test like they say. But the truth is, confidence can let you make decisions, can let you stand in the crowd with a head so high but it CANNOT protect you. Let’s be practical. What would my confidence do when 5 people ( of course men, it works like a synonym in such context) will crumple my sheets, would it turn me into a superwoman, or make me the protagonist of Goblet of fire. My life runs like the tone of an oxymoron. I really need a man right now. Aah, A MAN because I fear MEN. Yes, my eyes are teary, my throat is dry, my body is stiff, I really want to pee( huh!!). All I want to say is that terror is acceptable but distrust is not.
P.S. All the views expressed are personal. They don’t generalize any sect because I too love the other gender. High five to all the men out there.



by Sarthak Awasthi (CSE, Third year)

Wonder why this is how it is?
I suppose may be you don’t,
But I do it in solitude,
Figuring out a familiar theme,
Why it recurs every day?

The life is set for an ascent,
Though the mind is humbler than a peasant,
Craving for existence of another human beside you,
A moment so worth cherishing that it may in hindsight defy you.

Fallacy it may seem,
It may all at the end be left a dream,
How costly shall that be?
Shall I leave it to let it be?

There is no emotion here on show,
Cause there is only a thing or two to know,
There is no way to measure the intricacies of heart,
May be then someone will know how tough it shall be to part.

Let’s say it as frank as you can be,
Be as friendly as we should be,
I shall hold my heart in my hands,
Bar it from wandering to unknown lands.

Make It Worthy

“The Ragpicker Boy”

By: Ankit Sharma(Civil Dept.)

As per my daily routine, I was going through those streets. I always desired to do photography in these streets.

Suddenly, I saw that rag picker, of age about 15-16, checking dustbin, maybe finding something, eatable. He caught my attention, I was staring him, standing there for a moment, and he noticed it. I smiled at him.

He got that I am emotional and generous kind of personality, he came to me and told me his regretful story, and begged me for money. I gave him ₹50, and as he noticed money in my wallet, got that I am rich, and begged for more, I understand the situation, and I said, “I will give you ₹500, what will you do with it?”He was amazed, a few moments later he represent the whole list, that he gonna buy from this money for his family, and I said “What after spending all the money? You would start begging again..!”
He was quiet, I start to walk toward my way, and suddenly he replied, “Sir I am going to use it so I could make more money out of it”, he said confidently.

“How..?” I asked again. He had no answer for that.

A few days later, I was on my way, suddenly he appeared, and said “Sir I have a new Idea, so I could make a profit with that money”. I felt good, “Did you plan what you are going to do, what difficulties you are going to face, how to deal with them, did you do a survey for your idea, any rough plan for how to manage things,” I asked curiously.

He said nothing and went from there, and me again on my way.

Few Month later, he appeared again, “Sir I did all the things you asked, I Checked profile and work of other people too who are working on the same problem., but my idea was better and more compatible for customer”. He said. He is not the boy I saw that day, he was something different and new today.

“Did you launched your idea?, Are you working on it? did you get results? How could I trust that your idea is better?” I asked him.
“Sir I was working day and night for this project, if you can please get through it, you will know sir, that it’s worthy.” He said and requested me.

“Well my son, I already have a lot of projects, why should I use my precious time on your idea, a lot of people get new ideas daily, and 99% of them pull back later on,” I said. He looked quite disappointed, and I add, “work on it, show me results”.

A few years later, I was on my way to my office, suddenly a young man stood in front of me and smiled, it took me a little time to get that he was ragpicker boy. He told me that he was working on his idea, from the last few years, he failed so many times but rose again, and now he was getting good results. I was glad to hear him, and he discussed his project with me and at last, I invest my money in it.

I wrote this story to make you understand what life demands from us, hope you guys liked the story and happy for, “the ragpicker boy”. Now listen carefully,
“we all are similar to rag picker boy, and the Merchant Guy is similar to life, now remember that what did merchant wanted from the boy, same thing life demand from us, and when we will become worthy he is going to invest in us, and going to give us opportunity instead of money. This how life works”.

At last, I want to say if life gives you an opportunity/chance, to prove yourself, pull your socks, be ready and ‘make it worthy’.


A link to Ankit’s blog :

Hell Or Heaven

By: Krishna Mehra ,1st year, BTech(CSE)


What happens when we die,
What happens when we lie,
What is their inside your soul :
Love or Hatred.
Anger or Curiosity.
Hell or Heaven.
Or mere a bundle of frustrations..
Which is becoming the cause of your devastation..

Nothing is pure,
Benevolence is rare,
With people giving you pain to bear.

Is this our magnanimous nature ?
Is this our humanity ?
Or our selfish charity.

What happened, What is happening, What will happen..
Is not in our hands.
We are mere puppets
Choosing our own destiny..

Persisting nature can’t be changed
We are free birds..
Can’t live in a cage..

Freedom is required
Plethora of feelings we have
We want to spread Love
So Let’s break all the bonds and fly.
Never stop just try.


A poem by Shrayansh Singh ,Civil Engg.,Third Year.

Three toddlers thought to talk thoughts
Too trivial thoughts to talk, the three toddlers thought.
This took the toddlers time to think through thoughts
Tickling tattered toddlers, the thoughts thought–
Trivial thoughts they think to talk to thoughts’ trespassing thoughts.

“Thee torments thou thinkers”-
three toddlers thought.
Trivial thoughts the toddlers thought to talk to
Thoughts the toddlers thought to talk.
This troubled the toddlers to think to talk.
Too tough to talk to thoughts, the Time thought.
To talk to the toddlers through the trouble,
Time travelled through tombs time tooled.

“To talk to thee thou travelled through time”-
told time to three toddlers.
Time tried talking to toddlers through thoughts.
Twitching toddlers twinkled,
Their thoughts tickled.
Together the thoughts trembled, tabled to talk to three toddlers.
“Thoughts too trifle to truffle”-
thought the three toddlers.

Tough to think truce, Time totalled.
Three twisted toddlers
Troubled Thoughts tenaciously.
Tired, troubled, tangled,
The trivial Thoughts threw in the towel.
Time thought-
“Task to talk thoughts too toiling,
Troubled toddlers travailed, tottering top to toe.”

This thought the tiny tramp, trespassing Time’s trap.

Just…keep breathing

A poem by Shrayansh Singh (3rd Year).

Hope is now a false lore,

Soothing, yet misleading more.

Struggle there is to endure,

Moribund life there is to survive,

Broken I am to the core.


Should I give in?

Should I cease breathing in?

This conundrum of survival is overwhelming.

The quandary is so confusing, exhausting,

A tight corner on the road mysteriously bending,

I look around for answers to questions,

Mocking my existence precariously.

Should I give in?

Should I stop breathing in?

Is giving up on one’s self just okay?

Is this battle worth fighting every day?

Waking up every morning,

With the fear of sinking in,

Heart clutched in the claws of Misery,

I slip into my shoes,

Too scared to go out,

Too weak to blurt out.

Should I give in?

Should I stop breathing in?

I ask myself this question,

Sitting in dark corner of this cave,

I ponder and ponder,

And think and yonder,

Bells didn’t ring, neither came any explanation.


Should I really stop breathing?

Whispered an old bird in a faint dream,

It twitched its frail wings,

shivered, coughed, breathed heavily.

Aged, its eyes were,

Face etched with struggles, experience the eyes bear.

Crooked shoulders. Flaky hair.

But full of energy, life, and air.


Should I really stop breathing?

Asked I to the wise old bird chirping.

Hope is rare, but a feeling so relieving,

A path of rose lies after the curve steeply bending,

If comes winter, how far lies the Spring?

What is life without troughs challenging?

What honour comes to warrior kneeling?

Light shall be here soon.

For now, just…keep breathing.

So, just…keep breathing, okay?



poetry by : Vansika Pareek, B.Tech (First Year).

Springs made their way;

From neck to pubis.

Shredded back and ensanguined soil.

Stripped off , I stand.

Silent, I stand.

Let splashes speak.

I flew with Chronos.


Plantations are quiet.


Abolishes of words.

For the eyes did say;

Know the difference.


Even if brand tags are missing;

Though not in emporiums,

Clothes are sold, maybe in a kiosk.


In other life,

I will choose on colours.


Image source: The  Internet
Written by: Aarushi Sehgal, CSE(1st Year).
I have a dream,
Even if I am thrown away or ripped to shreds,
Deep inside my heart ,
I have a dream as precious as gems.
If by chance, without a reason,
Somebody ridicules me behind my back,
I would be patient,
I would just wait for the day.
As you always worry,
You say that foolish dreams are poisonous ,
Like a book, that tells us about the end of the world,
And there’s the reality that we can’t turn back now.
I have a dream,
I believe in that dream,
So please watch over me,
Standing in front of a cold wall called fate ,
I can firmly face it.
One day I will pass over that wall,
And I’ll be able to fly,
As high as the sky.
This heavy life can’t tie me down,
At the end of my life,the other day when I can smile,
The other day when I can smile,
 Let’s be together.

Essence of a Drop


by:  Krishna Mehra ,1st year, BTech(CSE).

Life, a mélange of different seasons,
One comes, other goes,
With tons of happiness and Pain.
Still remember that old day,
Sitting on the roof with you
Never thought!
How our friendship lasts so long…
Coming to the Earth, dying on Earth
Is not only your feature…
But your main motto
Is to give birth to a new creature…
Pitter-Patter on window panes
And lying down on road lanes
Friendship with you is different
Now your life has become so indifferent !
Be it us humans, animals or birds
Everyone is deteriorating your essence,
With their deeds,
But Now I try to woo you
You are very important for me,
For mother Earth and for all living creatures.
You give happiness and remove pain,
Because you are none other than Rain.