An Outsider

"Frozen" The hills, the mountains, And the air is frozen. The water which was streaming, That stream is frozen. Meadows in the valley, Once oil painted With sap green colour, Look faded now. Sprouts are conquered by snow, The colours are frozen. Time desires to leap, So do I The moments are stuck, The moments are frozen. Every particle of existence, Passes through -  the beautification of being frozen, Creating peculiarly amazing patterns, All the limbs are being frozen. If fall teaches how beautiful it's, To let go, To get once again, Why it discriminates with memories? Lucid memories sprout, In the vacuumed minds, Memories sprout, Breaking out of the crystal shell... Sneha Jani

 Magic Box of Memories Few days ago I was decluttering my room to clean up everything for Diwali festival. It was totally unexpected for me to find something which had been very interesting once upon a time for me though these days I am not at all interested in it. That peculiar thing was my slam book which I used to keep in my bag during my degree days. Few years back, it was a trend to maintain such a book wherein we can write down personal notes. Totally subjective. When I found this book from the clutter of my room, I realised that the date on that book was almost 11 years old. With a piece of cloth I cleaned it and turned pages. I found my old classmates' pictures, my teachers' writing: I found a magic box full of memories; for a while I slipped into those beautiful memories, that nostalgic time period.  These many years passed and these memories were boxed somewhere in the corner of my house where I never revisited them. I don't know why. Not only me, but we all are w...