Recent Blogs
- Does the Devil wear Prada? By Rudranshi Majmudar, Pre-SC- C - 28 Apr 2025
- When’s the doom? By Nabhya Shekhar SC-C - 28 Apr 2025
- Why Overthinkers Actually Might Be onto Something By Aashiya Mahajan, SC- C - 28 Apr 2025
- Brushstrokes and Nasreen: Art at Welham By Arshia Aneja, AI-B - 25 Mar 2025
- The Moon and The Polaris By Laksita Mittal, SC-C - 25 Mar 2025
- In the Wake of Welham By Zeel Shah, BI- A & Sofiya Sadgi BI-A - 25 Mar 2025
- Autobiography of a MP3 By Drishti Mahajan, SC-A - 25 Mar 2025
- SHOULD INDIA BE GIVEN A PERMANENT SEAT IN UNSC? By Ananya Dasgupta and Riddhima Agrawal (F/377 and B/017) - 31 May 2024
- Treat them gentle, treat them right By Jivisha Kalra B-281 SC-C - 11 May 2024
- Questioning the Existence of Religion By Nitya Niranjan Rathi (H/428) (AII-C) & Avani Pandey (H/369)(AII-A) - 24 Apr 2024
When forever falls apart
By Bidisha Dam (H/566) Wednesday, Aug 18, 2021
moonlight blooms under my skin
like eve’s garden,
flowering into dainty, and blood
threshing around my fingers
as a silver ring,
all want and wanderlust,
brief détente of my mind,
there’s a minefield between us,
blame betrayal and bruises,
something has torn through the sky’s
lightning struck seams,
it’s either me or you
the world rushes in,
i’m lost to the velvet dusk’s kiss,
hope splinters in girl’s hearts
shattering totality in the way i live,
thrilling lost at sea,
coughing up salt-air and tenderness
ragged gasps of gravity
thrum against cliff side like a war song,
i’ll always await
for it to weaponize against me
like a true lover
no magic like sanguine expectation,
effervescent stars strike across
the black of my eyes,
i wreak my own kind of havoc
featherlight and blood-tight,
there’s so many machinations
between the masked figures who
i share a sepia soken tapestry with,
blood and name,
always some monopolizing power play,
i don’t pick my allies carefully enough,
pale circlet of the sun
bellies out and hums in melodious sin
smokestack of clouds darkens
bearing the name of second primacy,
the bladed scythe hunger sharpens
it’s jaws against my ankles
like honey covered shackles,
I’m evermore caught into whirlwind,
you’re moored to me,
and we might be pulled
into the cosmopolitan fray,
teetering on a precipice
between reality and possibility,
small orbits of what is true,
you’re my chapel,
beautiful stained glass and headstone,
my hearts burning like a candle wick,
moon-blind and breathing.
- Bidisha Dam (H/566)
