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THE PLEASING NIGHTMARE

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Every night i encounter a strange entity the moment i fall into the hypothetical land.

Surprisingly, that entity pays its visit in my dream just to provide me the things which this harsh reality doesn’t look up to.

The night pleases me, because the stars are visible and staring at the moon is easy unlike the daylight which haunts me.

The time spent with the faceless entity in my dream is too minimal in reality.

But, the time I spend with her is very comforting and is enough to seize the stress i carry all day.

The first thing she does when we meet is to give me a tight hug as if we reunited after ages. I have never felt a hug more divine than her’s.

And when i’m awake i can hear her voice in my mind reminding me that no matter what, i have a shoulder to cry on to, i have an entity who will talk me out of my miseries.

We run around the green hills filled with yellow daffodils, the sun was bright as ever, the winds were kind and gentle. The cool breeze blowing her hair.

Later on the hill top i lie on her lap, while her hair tickles my face, she gives me a kiss on my forehead and reminds me about the struggle left to turn that entity into reality.

I feel safe lying on her lap and to talk out the miseries i have been through the day.

I feel in soo much comfort with her that I relate myself to a wounded soldier with arrows in his back stabbed deeply, seeking peace with his soulmate after a war.

After all, Its just a dream which runs in loop. For how long? Not sure.

It’s just a Faceless young girl,

it’s just the sweetest voice I’ve ever heard.

It’s just a divine entity which symbolizes a person from the future or the past.

I don’t know…

 

NAWAZ AHMED

I Year BA Student

Kateel Ashok Pai Memorial College, Shivamogga

WHISPERS OF A GROUNDED SOUL

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In a meadow green, an ant did fret,

Its feathers gone, in sorrow set.

Once it soared with grace so high,

Now it ponders, “Why, oh why?”

 

Wings that danced in skies so blue,

Now but memories, faded too.

Confused and tense, it roams the land,

Seeking purpose, trying to understand.

 

Pain and ache in every stride,

A heavy heart it cannot hide.

“Am I still me without my flight?

Can I find joy in earthbound light?”

 

In shadows cast by doubts so vast,

It dreams of skies and a brighter past.

But in the grass, it starts to see,

Life’s still full of mystery.

 

For even grounded, beauty’s near,

In every dawn and twilight’s cheer.

With aching heart, it learns to find,

Strength and peace in a grounded mind.

 

NAWAZ AHMED

I Year BA Student

Kateel Ashok Pai Memorial College, Shivamogga

The parasite inside me…

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Image Credit: Pinterest

What is it called??

When I crave for a soul to acknowledge mine…

Though I was amongst a crowd,

my heart was hollow…

Have u ever felt that!?

Because there was a parasite inside me eating off my softer side…

probably it wanted to fit me into this mechanical world, by making me independent

 

Time passed and I was used to it…

Freezing cold heart which lacked the emotions…

But one day, a bunch of people came around me…

They made me realize what it was,

to be valued…

 

How it felt when u could rely on someone,

How it felt when someone consoles ur weeping soul…

My soul was introduced to warmth,

The glimpses of happiness had started filling the hollowness in my heart…

But the bunch faded away!

What!? When!? Why!?

My head was spinning with such questions…

 

The lonely me had become – the alone, independent version of me, which is collapsed

The parasite which was safeguarding me, was on edge of death…

Should I wake it?

 

Akshatha R Kamath

1st BSc

Kateel Ashok Pai Memorial College, Shivamogga

 

ಶಿಕ್ಷಕರ ದಿನಾಚರಣೆಯ ಶುಭಾಶಯಗಳು

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ಶಿಕ್ಷಕರ ದಿನಾಚರಣೆಯ ಶುಭಾಶಯಗಳು (Happy Teachers Day)

“ಗುರುಬ್ರಹ್ಮ, ಗುರುವಿಷ್ಣು ಗುರುದೇವೊ ಮಹೇಶ್ವರ ಗುರು ಸಾಕ್ಷಾತ್ ಪರಬ್ರಹ್ಮ ತಸ್ಮೈಶ್ರೀ ಗುರುವೆ ನಮಃ”

ಅಂದರೆ, ಗುರುವು ಬ್ರಹ್ಮ, ವಿಷ್ಣುಮತ್ತು ಮಹೇಶ್ವರರ ಸ್ವರೂಪಿಯಾಗಿದ್ದು, ಪರಬ್ರಹ್ಮ ತತ್ತ್ವವೇ ಆಗಿದ್ದಾನೆ. ಅಂಥ ಗುರುವಿಗೆ ಪ್ರಣಾಮಗಳು, ಎನ್ನುತ್ತಾರೆ ಶಂಕರಾಚಾರ್ಯರು.

ಹಾಗೆಯೇ ಪುರಂದರದಾಸರು : “ಗುರುವಿನ ಗುಲಾಮನಾಗುವ ತನಕ ದೊರೆಯದಣ್ಣ ಮುಕುತಿ” ಎಂದಿದ್ದಾರೆ.

ವಿದ್ಯಾರ್ಥಿಗಳಿಗೆ ಸೆಪ್ಟೆಂಬರ್‌ ತಿಂಗಳು ಬಂತೆಂದರೆ ಮೊದಲು ನೆನಪಾಗುವುದು ಶಿಕ್ಷಕರ ದಿನಾಚರಣೆ, ಹೌದು ಸೆಪ್ಟೆಂಬರ್‌ 5 ಶಿಕ್ಷಕರ ದಿನಾಚರಣೆ ಹಾಗೂ ಡಾ.|| ಸರ್ವಪಲ್ಲಿ ರಾಧಕೃಷ್ಣನ್‌ ರವರ ಹುಟ್ಟುಹಬ್ಬವೂ ಕೂಡ. ಪ್ರತಿ ಶಾಲಾ ಕಾಲೇಜುಗಳಿಗೆ ಮಾತ್ರ ಸಿಮೀತವಾಗದೆ, ಪ್ರತಿಯೊಂದು ಕ್ಷೇತ್ರದಲ್ಲೂ ಕೂಡ ತಮಗೆ ತಿಳಿದಿರುವ ವಿಷಯದ ಜೊತೆಗೆ, ತಮಗೆ ತಿಳಿದಿರದ ವಿಷಯಗಳನ್ನು ತಿಳಿದು ತಮ್ಮ ವಿದ್ಯಾರ್ಥಿಗಳಿಗೆ ಕಲಿಸುವ ಶಿಕ್ಷಕರುಗಳಿಗಾಗಿಯೇ ಇರುವ ದಿನ. ಶಾಲಾ ಕಾಲೇಜುಗಳಲ್ಲಿ ವಿದ್ಯಾರ್ಥಿಗಳು ಆ ದಿನ ತಮ್ಮ ಶಿಕ್ಷಕರಿಗಾಗಿ ಹಬ್ಬದ ವತಾವರಣ ನಿರ್ಮಿಸುತ್ತಾರೆ.

ವಿವಿದ ಕ್ರೀಡೆ, ಮನರಂಜನಾ ಕಾರ್ಯಕ್ರಮಗಳನ್ನು ಆಯೋಜಿಸಿ ಆ ದಿನವನ್ನು ಅರ್ಥ ಪೂರ್ಣಗೊಳಿಸುತ್ತಾರೆ. ಅಲ್ಲದೆ ತಮ್ಮ ವಿದ್ಯಾರ್ಥಿ ಜೀವನದ  ಶಿಕ್ಷಕರನ್ನು / ನೆಚ್ಚಿನ ಗುರುಗಳನ್ನು ನೆನಪಿಸಿಕೊಂಡು ಕೃತಙ್ಞಾತೆಗಳನ್ನು ತಿಳಿಸುತ್ತ ಅವರೊಂದಿಗಿನ ಆವಿನಾಬಾವ ನೆನಪುಗಳನ್ನು ಮೆಲುಕು ಹಾಕುವುದು ಈ ದಿನದ ವಿಶೇಷ. ವಿದ್ಯಾರ್ಥಿಗಳು ತಮ್ಮ ಶಿಕ್ಷಕರ ಜೊತೆ ತೆಗಿಸಿದ ಭಾವಚಿತ್ರಗಳೊಂದಿಗೆ ತಮ್ಮ ನೆನಪುಗಳನ್ನು ಸಾಮಾಜಿಕ ಜಾಲತಾಣಗಳ ಮೂಲಕ ಹಂಚಿಕೊಂಡು ಸಂಬ್ರಮಿಸುತ್ತಾರೆ.

ಅರಿವಿಗೂ ಸಿಗದ ಜ್ಞಾನದ ಮೂರ್ತಿ ಶಿಕ್ಷಕ.

ಅರಿಯದೆ ಆದ ತಪ್ಪನ್ನು ಕ್ಷಮಿಸುವವ ಶಿಕ್ಷಕ.

ಅರಿವೂ ಎಂಬ ಜ್ಞಾನವನ್ನು ಬಿತ್ತಿ,  ಪೋಷಿಸುವ  ಮಾರ್ಗದರ್ಶಕ.

ಅರಿಯದೆ ಬರುವ ಅಹಂ ಎಂಬ ನೌಕೆಯನ್ನು ಕಿತ್ತೊಗೆಸಿ.

ಪ್ರತ್ಯಕ್ಷ ಮೂರ್ತಿ ಆಗುವ ಸಹಾನು ದ್ಯೋತಕ.

ಅಮ್ಮ ಅಪ್ಪ ಎಂಬ ಎರಡಕ್ಷರದ ನಡುವೆ.

ಎಣಿಕೆಗೂ ಸಿಗದಷ್ಟು ಬಂದು ಹೋಗುವ ಗುರುವೆಂಬ ನಾವಿಕ.

ಆಕಾಶದ ಅಂಚನ್ನು ತಟ್ಟುವಂತೆ  ಪ್ರೋತ್ಸಾಹ ನೀಡುವ ಉತ್ಸಾಹದ ಬಿಂಬಕ.

ಅಮ್ಮಂನಂತೆ ಆಲಂಗಿಸಿ, ಅಪ್ಪನಂತೆ ಆಶೀರ್ವದಿಸಿ ಆತ್ಮೀಯ ಮಿತ್ರರಾಗುವ

ಅಪಾರ ಜೀವೊನ್ಮದದ ಹಿಂಚಾಲಕ.

ಎಂದಿಗೂ ನಮ್ಮೊಂದಿಗಿರುವ ಗುರುವೇ.

ನಿಮಗಿದೋ ವರ್ಷಾಕೊಮ್ಮೆ ಆಚರಿಸುವ

ಶಿಕ್ಷಕರ ದಿನದ ಶುಭಾಶಯಗಳು.

💐||ಗುರುಭ್ಯೋ ನಮಃ||💐

ಭಾರ್ಗವಿ. ಜಿ.ಆರ್

ಪ್ರಥಮ ಬಿ. ಎ. ವಿದ್ಯಾರ್ಥಿನಿ

ಕಟೀಲ್‌ ಅಶೋಕ್‌ ಪೈ ಸ್ಮಾರಕ ಕಾಲೇಜು, ಶಿವಮೊಗ್ಗ

The Vanity of Dictator

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Image: Google.com

The Vanity of Dictator

Here I’m, standing, stranded,

Because of your desire

For a new realm.

Acclaim and fame

Making masses orphans, homeless

Apathetic, helpless and more.

The new rhythm of

Endless screams and explosions

Brought by you imprisoned peace.

Glory to you,

On decorating everywhere

With corpses.

When so many conflicts go on with the self,

Why extend it to others too?

Could’ve polemic rather engaging in bloodbath.

 

Devika Manikandan.

II Year MSc Psychology

Kateel Ashok Pai Memorial College, Shivamogga

The Room in my House that I Love the Most

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Image Credit: Manish S

yellow, musky walls
cracking, just the tiniest bit
from the corners –
the ceiling fan bumping
into my head when i stand
on the bed, i am Deodar;

drums filled with clothes, cushions,
cardboard, cups, record albums,
sit next to the entrance –
their lids are my ladders,
the corner my Mario playground;

the floor, freshly layered with mud,
my bare feet,
on the palms of earth –
the brown resembles my toes,
my eyes, my hair, my skin,
this is the womb of nature;

an orange light bulb,
hanging on the left wall
is my siren,
i am hiding in this room
from the footsteps above me,
this room is my sanctuary,
my playground, my library,
my only remaining memory
of the kachcha house on the hill;

Mr. Manish S

Assistant Professor
Dept. of Psychology 

Kateel Ashok Pai Memorial College, Shivamogga

The mystery that is time.

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Image Credit: Google.com

At dusk, far away on the horizon,

The sun’s brimming pot of sunshine upturned,

Shadows creeping,

Draped over me like a pashmina shawl.

 

The night’s stars shimmering on my skin.

My body feels like an incandescent planet.

Is this what the cosmos is made of?

 

Earth kneaded in Brown hues,

Voluptuous cream and leftover light.

Is this what moonshine is made of?

 

As I speak to the moon,

It’s crevices and layers resembling my own.

As the night whistles in the distance.

 

Aromas of wild rose and the taste of pure water feeds my soul.

What is this fragrance of ignorance prevailing the sky?

 

One more dawn,

With its brimming pot of sunshine.

Did yesterday leave already?

 

Holding on to my limited view,

The world must be round.

For the horizon is all I can see.

 

Wondering with bland amazement and despair.

How do I measure the sudden bursts of random melancholy and satisfaction?

 

So much of the universe,

Hidden in bundles,

Wrapped in the mystery that is time.

Mr. Manish S

Assistant Professor
Dept. of Psychology 

Kateel Ashok Pai Memorial College, Shivamogga

The Vocabulary in which I Love

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Image Credit: theguardian.com

The vocabulary in which i love

if the language I speak could dissect

itself into fragments that could splatter

across the street and write you a poem,

 

A would say that the ability to love is

drawn from the countless scars of

yesterday’s heartbreak.

B would walk in to the room and become

the white lily that you placed on

my table because you

thought flowers ignite hope.

C would call you the light of my life.

D would dance at the sight of your

eyes, brown, in the face of the sunlight.

E would whisper everything that i am

too afraid to say.

F would forget to breathe at the

unintentional brush of the back of my

hand against yours.

G would gladly correct me when i say

it was nothing but an accident when

your skin touched mine.

H would ask me to hold your hand,

intentionally this time.

I would still be unable to utter a single

word in your presence.

J would play ‘Just kiss her by Concorde’

when you and I sit tipsy in a room.

K would kill its darlings and find

better ways to write a love poem.

L wouldn’t think twice before falling in

love with you all over again.

M would tell you that there is no love

in maybe.

N would call your name a thousand

times like a prayer.

Oh, this poem is getting out of my

hands.

P would say “its’s a love story…”

please say yes?

Q wouldn’t question the signs of the

Universe.

R would rivet in the gentleness of

admiration.

Shame on me for not being able to

Tell you that this poem is for you

instead,

V would rather stand in the corner

Without making a single sound and

Xpect you to understand

Why

the alphabets end at Z but

my love does not.

 

Mr. Manish S

Lecturer, Dept. of Psychology

Kateel Ashok Pai Memorial College – Shivamogga