You also want an ePaper? Increase the reach of your titles
YUMPU automatically turns print PDFs into web optimized ePapers that Google loves.
INK DRIFT<br />
FEBRUARY <strong>2018</strong><br />
28<br />
Eight Steps to Achieve<br />
your Reading Goals<br />
Atelier<br />
This picture was like coming up for<br />
fresh air. He was drowning in the negative<br />
emotions of life and the...<br />
Timeless<br />
The old man was a retired police officer.<br />
After having served the country<br />
for about 30 years, he decided to live<br />
the last few years of his life with his<br />
wife in peace and togetherness.<br />
Special <strong>Issue</strong><br />
Neil D’Silva<br />
The Top Writers Chair
CONTENT<br />
<strong>February</strong> <strong>2018</strong><br />
Volume 02 <strong>Issue</strong> 07<br />
16<br />
WAITING FOR YOU<br />
The raindrops falling like pearls from the tip of the leaves.<br />
A cold zephyr blowing to hit my face and make me feel the<br />
most special one alive. I can hear the bird’s chirruping pleasuring<br />
the nature with their sweet sound.<br />
O4<br />
O6<br />
O7 A<br />
O8<br />
11 A<br />
12<br />
13<br />
16<br />
They said it<br />
Famous quotes that would feed your<br />
creative consciousness to its core.<br />
Editor’s Note<br />
A note by our managing editor.<br />
In Search Of<br />
beautiful poem by Aishwarya Ashok.<br />
Timeless<br />
A prose work by Shimaila Taher.<br />
The Love-Agement<br />
poem by Ankit Madaan.<br />
He Brings Me Home In The End<br />
A poem by Bhavya Goyal.<br />
The Brown Beast<br />
A story by Sreya Sarkar.<br />
Waiting for you<br />
A short note by Anamika Tamuli.<br />
17<br />
Walls<br />
A poem by Prabha Prakash.<br />
2 Ink Drift Magazine<br />
www.inkdrift.com
18 A<br />
20 A<br />
21<br />
22<br />
23<br />
24<br />
25<br />
27<br />
28 An<br />
30 A<br />
31<br />
32<br />
About Coffee Breaks, Marlboros and<br />
Leftovers<br />
story by Sebin James.<br />
Herb<br />
poem by Nitin Kadekar.<br />
You Own My Heart<br />
A poem by Anupreeta Chatterjee.<br />
Vocabulary<br />
Handpicked words to enhance your vocabulary.<br />
Diary of a Learned Soul<br />
A poem by Shivani Jha.<br />
The Traveler’s Quest<br />
A poem by Nithya Muralikrishnan.<br />
Book Review: The House of Clay...<br />
Book review by Shumaila Taher.<br />
Atelier<br />
A photograph by Soumitro Das.<br />
Eight Steps to Achieve your Reading<br />
Goals<br />
article by Pratikshya Mishra.<br />
Dreams<br />
poem by Samiksha Kedari.<br />
The Top Writers Chair<br />
Writers around the world get to sit on one<br />
chair of wisdom. Who’s next?<br />
Book of the Month<br />
More to read...<br />
25<br />
The House of Clay and Water: All throughout my journey of<br />
reading this novel, the only thought that kept coming back,<br />
constantly hovering around was the inability to write a review<br />
that would do justice.<br />
www.inkdrift.com<br />
Ink Drift Magazine 3
MASTHEAD<br />
Nikita D’Monte<br />
Amy Johnston<br />
Assef Ali<br />
Poorvasha Kar<br />
Shumaila Taher<br />
Karuna Shah<br />
Gabrielle Thompson<br />
Anushka Pandit<br />
Sheetal Bhardwaj<br />
Kasy Long<br />
Neena John<br />
Palak Handa<br />
learn more about us at www.inkdrift.com/team
THEY SAID IT<br />
“You make me happier than I ever thought I could be.<br />
And if you let me, I will spend the rest of my life<br />
trying to make you feel the same way.”<br />
-Chandler Bing (Friends)<br />
“Oh, Eva.” He rubbed his cheek against my damp face.<br />
“I must’ve wished for you so hard and so often you had<br />
no choice but to come true.”<br />
-Gideon Cross (Crossfire Series)<br />
“ Ever thine, Ever mine, Ever ours.”<br />
- Ludwig van Beethoven.<br />
“The things I do for love.”<br />
-Jaime Lannister (Game of Thrones)<br />
“ I love you once, I love you twice. I love you more than beans and rice.”<br />
-Desperate Housewives<br />
“ Pick me. Choose me. Love me.”<br />
- Meridith Grey (Grey’s anatomy)<br />
www.inkdrift.com<br />
5 Ink Drift Magazine<br />
Ink Drift www.inkdrift.com<br />
Magazine 5
EDITOR’S NOTE<br />
“<br />
T<br />
he only way for a woman to get my attention is to be you.”<br />
I read these beautiful lines written by Sylvia Day in the Crossfire Series while sipping my coffee one fine<br />
day of <strong>February</strong>. It wasn’t long before I felt myself falling down the track of nostalgia, reminiscing how<br />
the weather of love had treated me so far.<br />
Yes, it’s <strong>February</strong>, the month of love, the month of Valentine’s. And love acquires its most mesmerizing embodiment<br />
when spilled out as ink. Letting your heart out on paper has always been a nice habit most people<br />
prefer hanging on to.<br />
Handwritten love letters will never go out of style. They are the most alluring way to communicate with<br />
your significant other. But with advancement in technology, we hardly see them anymore. In this issue of<br />
Ink Drift, we aim to collect the best pieces of love spread out on paper, unsaid words and letters that never<br />
reached a person, because, there is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.<br />
Also, read our cover story, “Eight Steps To Achieve Your Reading Goals” by Pratikshya Mishra which describes<br />
best how many of us lean towards registering for reading challenges around the year but few reach the goal<br />
by the year-end. Read it on to find a few pointers to help you accomplish your bookish goals.<br />
With this issue, we introduce new sections in the magazine. I hope you’ll find them to be good reads.<br />
Enjoy the season of love. Keep reading!<br />
Anushka Pandit, Managing Editor<br />
6 Ink Drift Magazine<br />
www.inkdrift.com
IN SEARCH OF<br />
AISHWARYA ASHOK<br />
The perennial ocean in search of it I flow, A tireless brook.<br />
The voracious mind in search of it I go, An untouched book.<br />
The radiant sun in search of it I grow, A blade of grass.<br />
The distant land in search of it I blow, An evening zephyr.<br />
The chink of light in search of it I blink, A dingy hole.<br />
The ray of hope in search of it I run, A solitary soul.<br />
The peaceful path in search of it I dive, A disturbed mind.<br />
The happy bond in search of it I thrive, An unrequited love.<br />
The binding soil in search of it I extend, A sinuous root.<br />
The lovely tree in search of it I dreamt, A tiny fruit.<br />
The incessant rain in search of it I came, A nimbus cloud.<br />
The beautiful dawn in search of it I wane,<br />
A lustrous moon.<br />
www.inkdrift.com<br />
Ink Drift Magazine 7
TIMELESS<br />
SHUMAILA TAHER<br />
The hospital room looked like most hospital rooms do, terribly sad. The kind of sad that<br />
doesn’t believe in sunshine, colors or even rainbows. It is surprising how one place can<br />
bring to you happiness wrapped in glitter paper yet leave you dry and lifeless. It was<br />
sultry and the harshness of the summer was here to make the insides of the human body melt.<br />
The fan kept moving in circular motions making the room humid, the air smelled of sweat and<br />
medicines and of emotions leaving one’s soul. Somewhere near I could hear the ambulance blaring,<br />
a few doctors and nurses rushed to the main entrance to attend the patient who had a heart<br />
attack. There was a flurry of activities with silence resuming as quickly as the storm was arriving.<br />
My visits to the hospital are not very routinely but sometimes my headaches get the worst of me.<br />
On waking up this morning, my head started to explode like a thousand loudspeakers set off at<br />
once. The painkillers failed to give any relief and I almost collapsed. I saw a few newspapers and<br />
magazines lying around and to occupy myself I kept flipping through them. The doctor was stuck<br />
in traffic which meant I had a lot of time in my hands. After about an hour, when the waiting became<br />
monotonous, I decided to stroll and stretch my muscles a little.<br />
While walking down the aisle, I passed a room which was slightly open. I heard someone<br />
singing. It sounded like the voice of a man. Deciding to not let curiosity get the best of me, I kept<br />
walking. The voice kept getting louder and before I could open the door to understand what was<br />
happening, an old man came out of the room looking tired. He looked a little taken aback by my<br />
infringement on his privacy but I apologized for the misconduct and admitted it was just out of<br />
sheer curiosity. He listened and then laughed. Unfamiliar as it may sound; his eyes bore a tint of<br />
belongingness and comfort. He turned around and closed the door slowly, making no noise while<br />
gesturing for a cup of coffee. Hesitatingly, I obliged.<br />
The next few moments changed my life and how.<br />
The old man was a retired police officer. After having served the country for about 30<br />
8 Ink Drift Magazine<br />
www.inkdrift.com
years, he decided to live the last few years of his life with his wife in peace and togetherness.<br />
On inquiry, I found out he had no children and no regrets. In the middle of our conversation,<br />
he stood up, went into the room and returned. He kept doing this after every ten minutes.<br />
Before I could say anything, he sensed the uneasiness starting to develop, the air getting<br />
denser and that’s when he spoke. “It started when we went on a trip post-retirement to the<br />
hills. She loves adventures and I don’t. But her enthusiasm always wins over my resistance<br />
and we end up visitingdifferent parts of the world. While we were returning, she forgot the<br />
names of the places we visited. It was strange but not unusual. On another occasion, she<br />
couldn’t remember her favorite TV shows or where the locker keys were or where the laundry<br />
clothes were kept. Blaming it on old age, we didn’t pay much heed to her forgetfulness<br />
which we believed happened to everyone.<br />
He paused a little, wiping the tears that came running down. Once again he stood<br />
up and went to the room. He returned and continued,” Sometimes I wish, I had known. But<br />
there are certain things in life that are beyond your capacity and control. When we were<br />
having dinner at a dear friend’s house one day, she forgot the names of the people she was<br />
surrounded with. And that’s when it hit us. The reality came crashing down and before we<br />
could realize what was happening, it was too late. The months that followed kept getting<br />
worse. In between everything that was happening I kept telling myself we’d sail through this,<br />
we always did. That no matter how extreme the disease was it won’t tear us apart and for<br />
a few weeks it felt like there was hope. But as fate would have it, she didn’t remember me.<br />
She woke up one morning with terror in her eyes and a scream so deafening it shattered my<br />
whole world. I tried to calm her down but nothing would make her feel better. Maybe I knew<br />
this would happen. I wasn’t ready to accept it. Nobody can handle such a blow. My wife and<br />
I have been married for 60 years and I have never needed anyone else in my life. Seeing her<br />
in a state of such helplessness broke my faith in ways more than one. It is difficult trying to<br />
be a new person every day for her because she doesn’t remember me; it’s like living a life<br />
wondering whether I will ever get the old her back. Most days, she refuses to look at me.<br />
She is scared of my face, this stranger that I am becoming to her. “I’m sorry to hear that.” I<br />
mumbled.<br />
He went on, “But you know what kept me going?” I nodded. He smiled and whispered,”Her<br />
www.inkdrift.com<br />
Ink Drift Magazine 9
love; I could not for the life of me be who I am had it not been for her. That’s when I decided<br />
my story wasn’t over. It could not end like this. There were parts of her still left that loved me<br />
and appreciated me and I wasn’t going to give up so soon.”<br />
It was time for my appointment with the doctor but I refused to go. The old man was<br />
staring at the walls of the cafeteria, looking at nothing but I knew his mind was with his wife.<br />
A gentle smile spread across his face. He looked at me and I knew. He was reminiscing all<br />
those precious times he spent with his wife when they went on adventures along with their<br />
nights spent lying under the starlit sky and when the world was cruel but their love wasn’t.<br />
After sharing a few minutes of silence, he stood up for the last time. “But why were<br />
you singing?” I asked. “When I sing, her eyes lit up like a million fireflies and even if it’s for a<br />
few seconds, it’s worth a lifetime of happiness for me. And if you have a wife who smiles like<br />
that, you know you’ve found the one.” And he went inside. I don’t remember how long I sat<br />
in the cafeteria. His words echoing through my mind, his unwavering faith and the courage<br />
to keep believing opened my heart to a new dimension. I walked down the aisle once again<br />
to go back home but this time things became clearer and calmer. How do you define love<br />
then? I thought. Is it when you build a foundation of faith so strong that even fate trembles?<br />
Or when you see the one you love slowly disappear yet you keep holding on to the damaged<br />
parts till there’s nothing left? Maybe we will never find out. Or maybe we might just get lucky.<br />
10 Ink Drift Magazine<br />
www.inkdrift.com
THE LOVE-AGEMENT<br />
ANKIT MADAAN<br />
It was a day, Yes indeed, it was a day much colorful and pleasuredome.<br />
I remember the day, the date and the moment,<br />
When you stood by my side and everyone stared;<br />
With a score of people watching us apparently<br />
That how God had made us be paired,<br />
You wear a fairy dress made of white weft,<br />
And a princess like a diadem shining on your head;<br />
Never seen a queen beautiful than you<br />
A word of fineness, when you smile, is spread.<br />
The priest then read your name with mine,<br />
“To be together always ever after”, is fine?<br />
You said ‘YES’ and next turn was mine,<br />
I thanked the god, the almighty divine.<br />
Everyone clapped their hands in glee,<br />
‘You may kiss each other’ the priest announced;<br />
Happiness transported to everyone as air,<br />
Because it was a result of wishes and prayers.<br />
www.inkdrift.com<br />
Ink Drift Magazine 11
HE BRINGS ME HOME<br />
IN THE END<br />
BHAVYA GOYAL<br />
Fine. You’re the fire to my soul.<br />
I struggle to breathe as you,<br />
Ignite me with your touch.<br />
You’re the stormy whirlpool<br />
Which strikes on a peaceful night.<br />
You’re gushing down on me<br />
Taking every inch of me with you.<br />
Your earthly body could take me to places<br />
That I’d never go alone.<br />
I’d indulge in the greatest sin<br />
And I couldn’t care less.<br />
You’re the only air my lungs long for.<br />
Our carnality is blowing me away, babe.<br />
And I would fly anywhere with you.<br />
Baby, you’re my world.<br />
You’re a catastrophic killer<br />
Who still brings me home in the end.<br />
12 Ink Drift Magazine<br />
www.inkdrift.com
The<br />
BROWN BEAST<br />
SREYA SARKAR<br />
Colonel Bagchi glared at the ruined state of the mesh<br />
he had carefully canopied on a patch of soil with<br />
new seeds. It instantly curdled his early morning<br />
mood. He knew the culprit of course. It was the brown<br />
beast again, living in the woods behind his house, regularly<br />
feasting on the young saplings and greens he was trying to<br />
grow in his garden. He noticed muddy paw marks leading<br />
away from the patch towards the animal’s burrow, giving<br />
him all the evidence he needed.<br />
Brijesh Bagchi was a retired military officer, an ex-colonel,<br />
but people around him addressed him as Colonel Bagchi,<br />
even after ten years of his retirement. He had moved to a<br />
secluded town near the woods just a few miles from Darjeeling,<br />
following his retirement. After spending most of<br />
his life managing insurgencies and upheavals in the northeastern<br />
part of India, he had seen enough bloodshed to<br />
grow a permanent aversion towards mankind. His straight<br />
and sturdy body had not grown tired but his mind had<br />
aged and needed rest. When he moved into the old cottage,<br />
with creaky floors and drafty windows, that he had<br />
bought on a whim a few years ago, his grown-up children<br />
were aghast at the prospect of him living alone. Colonel<br />
Bagchi though was rather obstinate about his decision.<br />
After his wife passed away, he realized that he was not obligated<br />
to spend time with human kinds, but little did he<br />
know that there were creatures other than human beings<br />
that could wreck his world as well. They seemed harmless,<br />
a part of the bountiful nature around him, but now<br />
the squirrels and birds and especially a brown hare—the<br />
brown beast, were proving to be quite a challenge for his<br />
happy existence.<br />
The extra space around his cottage had given him an opportunity<br />
to nourish his gardening skills. He soon went on<br />
from growing easy vegetable plants to Magnolias and Orchids,<br />
the activity giving him a sense of discipline that he<br />
was used to in his career. Colonel Bagchi discovered that<br />
he enjoyed gardening. There was something about touching<br />
the soft wet soil that gave him the satisfaction of doing<br />
something worthwhile with life. He had seen so many people<br />
getting killed in combat that he felt refreshingly optimistic<br />
to see saplings raise their young head from Earth. The green<br />
shoot breaking through the topsoil was a celebration of life<br />
over death, creation over destruction, somewhat like Earth’s<br />
triumph over mankind’s destructive nature.<br />
He muttered under his breath following the paw track with his<br />
eyes. This was the second time this week that the hare had disrupted<br />
his plan to grow his garden. To take his mind off the disturbance,<br />
he rode into the nearest big town with his gardener<br />
to get new seeds from the nursery, along with his daily grocery<br />
and medicines. His pension money was enough to support his<br />
simple lifestyle and that made him feel happy and independent.<br />
The next morning, he caught the brown beast staring at him<br />
with an open audacity. He pretended to concentrate on the<br />
newspaper in front of him but looked at the animal surreptitiously<br />
every now and then. It hopped towards the tomato<br />
patch and started chewing on a low hanging tomato with a<br />
natural ferocity that made Colonel Bagchi fume with indignation.<br />
It was as if the beast was mocking him with his decided<br />
impudence. Such was the degree of his annoyance that he<br />
took out his rifle and cleaned it thoroughly instead of cleaning<br />
his cluttered study, as he had planned to do the night before.<br />
As Ashwini the cook, came to discuss his meals for the day, he<br />
seemed distracted. The grumpy middle-aged cook planted her<br />
hands on her hips and let out an exasperated breath. Colonel<br />
Bagchi was not in a mood to stand yet another soul’s insolence<br />
that morning, so he said quietly, “If you are such a hurry always,<br />
you don’t need to cook at all. You take what I owe you<br />
and disappear for good.”<br />
Ashwini blinked a few times and retreated from her bold<br />
stance. “Something seems to be bothering you. What is it?”<br />
www.inkdrift.com<br />
Ink Drift Magazine 13
“Its none of your concern. Get me my wallet from the bedroom.<br />
You take your salary and leave!”<br />
Ashwini scratched her chubby chin and retired to the kitchen.<br />
She knew the perfect solution out of this conundrum.<br />
She made him a cheese omelet and coffee, a peace offering<br />
that Colonel Bagchi could not refuse, given his love for<br />
eggs.<br />
After his breakfast, his bad temper disappeared but his dismay<br />
at losing his young plants remained. He told Ashwini<br />
about how the hare was eating up his garden. A week ago,<br />
the vegetable patch was walked all over, the beets, sprouts<br />
and parsley leaves were all gone. “That brown beast is<br />
treating my garden like its private salad bar!”<br />
Ashwini squatted down next to him, trying to come up with<br />
solutions.<br />
“Try slicing soap bars around your garden, rabbits don’t<br />
like the smell.”<br />
“I have tried that already; this monster ate the soap as<br />
well!”<br />
“How about mixing Tobasco sauce with water and spraying<br />
on the plants?”<br />
“It likes spicy vegetables; can you believe that!”<br />
Ashwini’s crooked, tobacco-stained teeth came crowding<br />
out of her mouth making her look like a hideous ogre, only<br />
not green in color. She gave out a cackling laugh that made<br />
Colonel Bagchi look at her with disdain.<br />
Bahadur, his gardener had just stepped in and contributed<br />
to the conversation without really being invited to it. “I<br />
tried planting onion and asparagus, and that didn’t work<br />
as well.”<br />
Colonel Bagchi looked at his wiry gardener with a hippy<br />
haircut and threw his hands up in despair. “I give up. I don’t<br />
know what to do.”<br />
Bahadur and Ashwini continued their animated conversation<br />
about the problem in hand while Colonel Bagchi<br />
thought of a fresh idea.<br />
“Hey Pakhi, Dadu needs your help.” Pakhi, his sixteen-yearold<br />
grand-daughter was the only person who was willing<br />
to do internet research for him anytime of the day. “How<br />
does one get rid of wild hares from their garden?”<br />
Pakhi googled up the information and asked her granddad<br />
to note it down.<br />
“Okay…okay……fine. Thank you, dear.”<br />
That afternoon, Bahadur and he located a “potent” toxin in the<br />
market. Colonel Bagchi was determined to defeat his enemy in<br />
the garden field and protect his troop of young plants.<br />
The hare was no show for the next two days. The sneaky animal<br />
had somehow sniffed out his intention.<br />
On the third morning, as Colonel Bagchi stepped out for his<br />
breathing exercise, his feet almost stumbled on something<br />
brownish.<br />
It was the confounded hare. It had got so alarmingly confident<br />
that it could come right up to his doorstep. This was ridiculous. As<br />
he turned to look at the animal, he found it lying down. He waited<br />
for it to look up at him with its beady red eyes, but the animal did<br />
not stir. The gall of the monster. First, destroying his garden and<br />
then taking a power nap right in front of him. He fumed while he<br />
waited on. The hare lay limp. This was not usual. Shouldn’t it slip<br />
away as fast as it could? As he took another step forward he saw a<br />
ring of flies circling him like vultures circling a corpse.<br />
XXXXXX<br />
His garden was safe again. The flowers were untouched, the<br />
young spouts were upright and perky, the beauty of his creation<br />
evident once more. Bagchi sat having a cup of first flush outside<br />
alone. He had won his battle against the hare and that should<br />
have relieved him. But he felt no jubilation, no elation at his victory.<br />
As Ashwini started the day’s cooking she asked him what he<br />
would like for breakfast.<br />
“Nothing. I am not hungry,” he said rinsing his teacup in the kitchen.<br />
He went to his study and started tidying up, a task he had been<br />
avoiding for a while. There was an unusual sluggishness in his<br />
bearing, a bewildered listlessness in his conduct.<br />
Ashwini followed him into his study. She cast a worried look at<br />
him. He was not eating well. “What is it now? The hare is dead,<br />
your garden is looking beautiful again. Doesn’t that make you<br />
happy?”<br />
“I have brought some tomatoes from your garden, I can make<br />
soup for you, if you want,” she added, hoping to inspire him.<br />
Bagchi closed his eyes and flinched. “How can I eat tomato now?”<br />
He walked to the front foyer to put on his sneakers. Fresh air<br />
might do him good. He lmost walkeur who was getting off his bicycle.<br />
Bahadur jumped aside alarmed at his speed.<br />
“Where are you going in such a hurry? Didn’t you want to go to the<br />
town and visit the nursery?”<br />
14 www.inkdrift.com<br />
Ink Drift Magazine
Ever since the hare had died, Bagchi had avoided talking to<br />
him properly. He wondered why. He had also lost interest<br />
in caring for his garden.<br />
Ashwini had scribbled their names on it. Colonel Bagchi let out a<br />
ragged breath and looked at the baby rabbits again, a small smile<br />
forming on his puckered lips.`<br />
Bagchi continued walking past him without responding to<br />
his question.<br />
XXXXXX<br />
“What is going on with Colonel?” asked Bahadur when he<br />
saw Ashwini.<br />
“No idea. He seems to be brooding over something but he<br />
does not want to talk about it?” said Ashwini sipping her<br />
morning tea noisily.<br />
“Ever since that confounded hare died on his doorstep, he<br />
seems depressed,” said Bahadur.<br />
“Oh…that is the reason why he said he does not want to<br />
eat tomato…”<br />
“What?”<br />
“I offered to make tomato soup for him and he left.”<br />
“Did he?” said Bahadur after a long pause, contemplating<br />
on something profoundly deep, beyond Ashwini’s understanding.<br />
Bahadur knew that in spite of how unpredictable the Colonel<br />
seemed, he was a kind soul. He had a tough shell with<br />
a soft interior, which he did not like to admit.<br />
“I will keep something in his study on his table. Tell him to<br />
take a look at it when he comes back, okay?” he said in a<br />
hurry and left Ashwini to finish her tea alone.<br />
Colonel Bagchi came back from his morning walk, sweaty<br />
and exhausted. Ashwini had made an omelet for him again.<br />
“Do you want to kill me with cholesterol?” he snapped at<br />
her. Ashwini took a deep breath and bland facedly told him<br />
to take a look at his study table, just the way Bahadur had<br />
asked her to.<br />
“What now?” he muttered storming into his study. There<br />
on the table stood a bottle of unopened rabbit poison.<br />
Below it was Bahadur’s handwritten note in Hindi. “I did<br />
not kill it. See, the bottle is still sealed. It died of old age.”<br />
Colonel Bagchi re-read the note several times and threw<br />
the bottle in the garbage bin.<br />
Next morning as he made himself a cup of tea and stood<br />
out on the balcony, he saw a basket covered in a blanket.<br />
He uncovered the basket to find two white baby rabbits<br />
inside a cage. A note was attached to the latch. We could<br />
not find a wild hare so we got these instead. Bahadur and<br />
www.inkdrift.com<br />
Ink Drift Magazine 15
WAITING FOR YOU<br />
ANAMIKA TAMULI<br />
The raindrops falling like pearls from the tip of the leaves. A cold zephyr blowing to hit my face and<br />
make me feel the most special one alive. I can hear the bird’s chirruping pleasuring the nature with<br />
their sweet sound. But I had someone more special on my mind. Someone who was more special from<br />
this beautiful scenery. I could remember your image blazoned in front of my eyes, laughing with them<br />
and not even knowing that someone is adoring you. Admiring your every beauty. That makes me so<br />
happy<br />
. Happy from the inside. Today you called my name. For the first time. Oh! my name seemed so special<br />
from your mouth! Today I love my name. I can feel my heart getting closure to you. So close that I fear<br />
of losing you. Even though you are not mine. It’s funny how you fall in love with someone who doesn’t<br />
even know your existence. I want you to see me and understand the words from my eyes, understand<br />
what my heart is speaking in its inside. Want you to feel happy by seeing me as I do. I believe you’ll do.<br />
one day or the other. The day is not far when you’ll be mine.<br />
16 Ink Drift Magazine<br />
www.inkdrift.com
WALLS<br />
PRABHA PRAKASH<br />
Sometimes I forget to build those walls-<br />
Yes, those rigid and ugly walls<br />
Around myself.<br />
Even as I could see shrewd minds masquerading effortlessly<br />
Within the flexible edges<br />
Of the erstwhile stiff structures;<br />
I quiver and twist within my own self<br />
Incapable of shielding the vulnerabilities<br />
At times of uncertainties,<br />
I wonder and stare<br />
Baffled at the crowd;<br />
Checking out the virtual looking glass from the corner of my eyes-<br />
And witness a hundred brittle walls<br />
Dilapidating into superfluous fragments<br />
Teaching me countless lessons on doctrines of realism.<br />
www.inkdrift.com<br />
Ink Drift Magazine 17
ABOUT<br />
COFFEE BREAKS, MARLBOROS AND<br />
LEFTOVERS<br />
SEBIN JAMES<br />
We have traversed the full<br />
length of this ring road. A<br />
maze of unpredictable curves<br />
and memorable pit stops comes to an<br />
end. I don’t know if there is a divine<br />
entity that observes us, but you definitely<br />
believe in one. Ask him whether<br />
he satirically laughed off the plight of<br />
two inferior beings. He might even tell<br />
that both of us were complete idiots, to<br />
hope that we would never be sucked<br />
into a swirling whirlpool. Probably, he<br />
finds humor in the irony of choosing<br />
the same cafe for closure ceremony as<br />
well. Tell him that I am relieved to make<br />
him feel better about himself when he<br />
clearly cannot handle gross injustice,<br />
war, and death.<br />
I think I acted a bit much awkward last<br />
Sunday. I might have found it unsettling<br />
that two years have passed since we<br />
parted our ways. It could also be a desperate<br />
attempt on my part to show that<br />
I am unaffected by everything we have<br />
been through. Each time, I fail miserably.<br />
But again, whichever explanation<br />
you prefer. You are likely to go with the<br />
second one, aren’t you?<br />
I remember blushing like a nine-yearold<br />
about to sing a song in front of the<br />
school assembly. The waiter was pissed<br />
off when I said ‘whatever’ to ‘hot cocoa<br />
or café latté?’ I will tell you a secret. I<br />
was rather taken aback to see that you<br />
have slimmed down, while I am beginning<br />
to worry about my receding hairline.<br />
To put across in simple words, I am<br />
jealous. There was also an Indie rock<br />
band’s clumsy background track for our<br />
company. I mean, come on they used to<br />
play great music four years back.<br />
Luke Bryan started humming ‘Drink a<br />
Beer’ in my head. I nodded along with<br />
your answers for the ‘what it might<br />
have been and what if’ routine talk in a<br />
meet up of two former lovers.<br />
“Are you listening, Deb?”<br />
I heard everything you said, dear. But<br />
does it really matter?<br />
“I am. You were saying that you are<br />
tired of summer classes.” Apparently,<br />
I couldn’t stop blushing.<br />
You took a sip of your favorite ristretto.<br />
I didn’t even know about ristretto until<br />
you took me to that posh café in the<br />
north end.<br />
I looked into your eyes and my hot<br />
brewing cocoa on the table. This<br />
damn drink was never sweet enough.<br />
A spiral of brown coils disappeared<br />
in a bustle with the spoon. The sliding<br />
door of our café showcased fuzzy<br />
images of vehicles rushing along the<br />
new highway. It’s a rush hour in the<br />
rainy season and people want the<br />
comfort of their homes. Nothing’s<br />
wrong with that.<br />
Home, it is a vague word when it<br />
stands alone. The most celebrated<br />
words in linguistics are all confusing<br />
when they stand alone. Wasn’t there<br />
a time when we wanted love to be our<br />
daydreams about green farmlands,<br />
blue lagoons, and rugged mountains?<br />
Faith was all about walking down the<br />
hallway, hand in hand. Joy meant<br />
your music and my books. We hoped<br />
that we could wrap around each other<br />
instead of our pillows and shed a tear<br />
on chilly winter nights.<br />
In one fine Sunday morning, love became<br />
letting go of each other when<br />
there was no way forward. We grew<br />
distant and apart. I searched frantically<br />
for joy, faith, and hope in the<br />
remnants of a pyre but in vain. There<br />
were days when I was so near to falling<br />
into the depths of a chasm. I was<br />
always there on the verge, but I never<br />
fell off the ridge.<br />
“I have been talking too much. Deb,<br />
tell me. What’s new with you?”<br />
I won’t lie. I am doing okay; no more,<br />
no less. You wrecked my whole belief<br />
system when you took everything you<br />
could and left. But you are not at fault.<br />
This was supposed to happen when I<br />
poured in everything I could to make<br />
an elixir. Though there is so much water<br />
under the bridge, I just hope that<br />
everything will fall into place one day.<br />
“Everything’s great, actually. College<br />
is good. I have wonderful friends. I<br />
have been busy for the past couple of<br />
weeks. We organized a Web technologies<br />
workshop recently that turned<br />
out to be a great success. Probably<br />
I should take some time off all the<br />
hustle now.”<br />
“Oh! Good. Congrats Deb.” You still tilt<br />
your head sideways and smile while<br />
you compliment someone. I always<br />
wanted a picture of this quirk of yours.<br />
There was never a good time. “Waiter,<br />
I will have one more sandwich cake.<br />
Do you want anything else, Deb?”<br />
“I think I will take another cup of hot<br />
chocolate.”<br />
“You and hot chocolate, still a better<br />
love story than Twilight.”<br />
“And how old is that phrase?”<br />
“As old as your relationship with hot<br />
cocoa.”<br />
One-to-one conversations never lose<br />
their charm when you are there. On<br />
one of our daily commutes, I told you<br />
that Wong Kar-Wai is the greatest filmmaker<br />
when it comes to the portrayal<br />
of intertwined complexities of life.<br />
You liked Richard Linklater more and<br />
argued that Wong Kar-Wai’s films of<br />
the 21st century lacked subtlety. Although,<br />
I did realize on our way back<br />
home that I should never underestimate<br />
you ever. You had drawn a flow<br />
chart on the degrading quality of my<br />
favorite director’s movies when both<br />
of us were supposed to balance the<br />
equations of organic compounds.<br />
You were insane back then. You are.<br />
“Deb, I would like to say something.”<br />
18 Ink Drift Magazine<br />
www.inkdrift.com
“Is this a toast from you? Then why<br />
can’t we go to that beer parlor right<br />
across Riviera?”<br />
“No. Listen, Deb. It’s about me. I think I<br />
love someone.”<br />
“Oh. Huh. Who is he?”<br />
“From college, obviously. I have known<br />
him for over two years. But...”<br />
“What is it?”<br />
“I fear it might ruin our friendship.”<br />
That is a genuine concern given how it<br />
ended between us.<br />
“Huh. Maybe.”<br />
See, that was my emotional threshold<br />
point. I thought I could survive a conversation<br />
with you after two years. To<br />
my dismay, my heart was still a weakling<br />
in your presence. Even if there<br />
comes a day when south sea pearls are<br />
washed ashore, I can never be a mere<br />
male acquaintance who blurts out that<br />
he is happy for you, when you declare<br />
your new-found love.<br />
Why did we pre-plan everything happening<br />
on this day? Why couldn’t it<br />
have been something surreal?<br />
As always, I would be sitting right here,<br />
hesitant to finish off my drink. Perhaps<br />
I would ignore the call of any of my<br />
friends who want to know whether I<br />
am in town or not. I would notice every<br />
female and their minute details as they<br />
come and go. Haruki Murakami would<br />
help me in eavesdropping on conversations<br />
around my table, which I believe<br />
will become the plot of my stories<br />
someday. The whole evening would go<br />
by, with the pages of my life and Sputnik<br />
Sweetheart still unturned. When I<br />
am about to leave, unusually long fingers<br />
with finely manicured nails might<br />
place a cup of ristretto on my table. In<br />
that split second, déjà vu would strike<br />
a chord with all the mess that I am. I<br />
would sit there, stupefied by the whole<br />
world and you. I would sit there, breathless<br />
and unable to determine what intoxicated<br />
me. I could barely move my<br />
legs, let alone run away from you. You<br />
would look at the specials board and<br />
the book that I am reading, but you<br />
would pretend that you didn’t recognize<br />
me. We would be two random<br />
strangers on a coffee table for a while.<br />
Torn between you forgetting me and<br />
now that you have, why I couldn’t, I<br />
would reach out to pay my bill. All of a<br />
sudden, you would burst out laughing,<br />
take hold of my hands and place it in<br />
your palms. Being naive enough to buy<br />
into your little play, I too would laugh<br />
at myself. But what would happen<br />
when the laughter ceases, dear? We<br />
would try to fill a void with fine pleasantries,<br />
drink coffee and part. I would<br />
rather take away my hands from yours<br />
and leave, without saying anything.<br />
You would know what that means<br />
since you have had the privilege to<br />
spend time with me beyond my ‘all<br />
aloof and distant’ stage of interaction;<br />
I leave places before the lump in my<br />
throat materializes into tears; the hypocrite<br />
in me still believes that tears are<br />
not so manly in a public place. Moreover,<br />
I wouldn’t want you to see me in<br />
an emotionally vulnerable state yet<br />
you would know that I am.<br />
Let’s drop it and focus on what happened<br />
for real.<br />
“I am going to run to the washroom<br />
before we leave.”<br />
“Don’t run by. Take your time, Deb.”<br />
You chortled.<br />
We left the coffee shop. Neither of<br />
us was sure about what to say next.<br />
There were no promises to keep in<br />
touch and no vows taken to remain<br />
‘good friends’. That can be counted as<br />
the one thing we did right that day.<br />
On my way back home, our conversation<br />
started playing on a loop before<br />
my eyes. One thing led to another<br />
and I had the feeling that this was<br />
no longer about us. All is now solely<br />
about me, dear. It must be. I owe it to<br />
myself and the soul that I have been<br />
tormenting for all the wrong reasons.<br />
It was time to lift off the painted veil<br />
stuck to my face. This has got nothing<br />
to do with love, dear. If anything,<br />
this is redemption. People should<br />
stop using the word ‘love’ for things<br />
they cannot work out and things that<br />
go wrong in a relationship. I was too<br />
late to accept that two persons, at<br />
any point in time, can fall out of love,<br />
even when there is so much love and<br />
affection for each other. Falling out of<br />
love is almost similar to running out<br />
of means to express your love. When<br />
unhappiness and irritability take reins<br />
of the mechanism through which you<br />
vent, what lies beneath is irrelevant to<br />
what meets the eye. Sadly, brooding<br />
over lost love for the namesake of love<br />
does not count as love either.<br />
There was a lot more to my breakdown<br />
than turning into a lost traveler<br />
in the realms of love. A few years back,<br />
life was more vibrant and alfresco.<br />
After a few back to back fiascos, I<br />
was no more comfortable in my own<br />
skin. With a lot of time to spare, I have<br />
made some serious observations,<br />
introspections, and retrospections.<br />
They have all contributed to the flesh<br />
and blood of the person that I have<br />
become. Though the popular opinion<br />
says that he has become a sad soul,<br />
I like him. It was not easy at first, but<br />
once you get to know him he is not<br />
that bad. He is cynical, but he has integrity.<br />
I mean, sure there is a hell lot<br />
of work to free himself from the pangs<br />
of guilt, fear and his unhealthy fixation<br />
with you. Apart from that, I can<br />
slowly teach him to give his reasons to<br />
people who are worth an explanation.<br />
When he begins to feel what it takes to<br />
stay somewhere, he will always make<br />
it home from his secret getaways; finally,<br />
he can resist his desire to not<br />
return.<br />
So why don’t you go away? I beg<br />
you, the silhouette of lost love; don’t<br />
come creeping through the windowsills<br />
while my eyes struggle to attune<br />
to the moonlight of June. I beg you<br />
not to come with that guitar of yours<br />
and sing a lullaby that makes my ears<br />
bleed. I have roadmaps to look at and<br />
there are abandoned towns to search<br />
for before she fades out. I give you my<br />
word, I will find the colors you lost in<br />
the sunsets of horizons far west.Till<br />
then, I will smoke Marlboros and my<br />
lungs will ache; but she won’t see you<br />
amidst the ghosts of smoke I made, to<br />
carry you along with me. This will be<br />
our little secret, our last one. Do not<br />
demand anything more, the silhouette<br />
of long lost love.<br />
It’s time. It’s time to try and make everything<br />
right.<br />
www.inkdrift.com<br />
Ink Drift Magazine 19
HERB<br />
NITIN KADEKAR<br />
A dab of the dawning of imperative consequence<br />
arrives.<br />
Instinct takes over and I feel alive.<br />
I feel the need but I don’t have to feed it.<br />
It’s there but I don’t have to acknowledge<br />
it.<br />
I have dismissed it before,<br />
more than once.<br />
But this particular time I want to lunge.<br />
So I make the journey bearing the costs.<br />
Like I don’t give a damn about the fact<br />
that I’m lost.<br />
But I do see light at the end of the tunnel.<br />
I’m fighting my way there.<br />
It will probably never stop and never end.<br />
All I know is,<br />
it is warmer and pleasant as I move<br />
forward.<br />
If you are not able to make this transition,<br />
you are probably a coward.<br />
Fortunately, the night is young.<br />
I say this because it doesn’t take long.<br />
We sit and the green fades away.<br />
It’s tranquil here.<br />
It was the right decision after all.<br />
We have a fecund existence.<br />
I find yet another strand in my hair,<br />
so to speak.<br />
It’s the metaphorical company that I<br />
keep.<br />
After a beautiful flurry, I revert to my indifference,<br />
my version of it anyway.<br />
I’m wiser.<br />
I can feel it.<br />
Like that northern wind on the pale skin.<br />
I see that the walls are falling.<br />
It’s fine,<br />
they can go.<br />
I’m more free by the passing minute.<br />
More open.<br />
I feel the endearment.<br />
It’s strong and frankly a little uneasy.<br />
But, I guess this is how it should be.<br />
Food tastes good.<br />
Now I have Justin Timberlake telling me,<br />
Whatever goes around comes around.<br />
Meanwhile, I’m writing.<br />
It happened,<br />
Now it’s time to move on.<br />
And she’s the last thing I think about,<br />
Before my day is done.<br />
20 Ink Drift Magazine<br />
www.inkdrift.com
YOU<br />
OWN<br />
MY<br />
HEART<br />
ANUPREETA CHATTERJEE<br />
Frozen glances<br />
with stirring minds<br />
find places to announce<br />
what love, is to us.<br />
I would love to have a chance<br />
to dance on my favorite togetherness vows.<br />
My love for you<br />
often gets published<br />
in midst of rumors which never notice us.<br />
You own my heart<br />
and I know you admire me secretly.<br />
You lean by my side<br />
without making me feel worried.<br />
I am preoccupied with my starring adventure<br />
of describing you in my poems.<br />
You own my heart<br />
and this poem is dedicated to ‘unseen’ you.<br />
www.inkdrift.com<br />
Ink Drift Magazine 21
IT’S NEVER LATE TO ENHANCE YOUR<br />
VOCABULARY<br />
1. Abecedism: Word created from the initials of words in a phrase<br />
2. Aberration, noun: a departure from what is normal, usual, or expected, typically an unwelcome<br />
one<br />
3. Abolla: A woolen cloak worn by men in ancient Rome<br />
4. Abraxas: Gem engraved with mystical word and bearing human-animal figure<br />
5. Abuse<br />
ü Verb: use (something) to bad effect or for a bad purpose; misuse.<br />
Treat with cruelty or violence, especially regularly or repeatedly<br />
ü Noun: the improper use of something.<br />
Cruel and violent treatment of a person or animal<br />
6. Acapnotic: Non-smoker; Non-smoking<br />
7. Acerbic, adjective: (especially of a comment or style of speaking) sharp and forthright<br />
8. Accoucheur: Male midwife<br />
9. Accoucheuse: Female midwife<br />
10. Admonish, verb:<br />
ü Reprimand firmly<br />
ü Advise or urge (someone) earnestly<br />
ü Warn (someone) of something to be avoided<br />
11. Affair, noun: an event or sequence of events of a specified kind or that has previously been referred<br />
to OR a love affair<br />
12. Affaire, noun: a love affair; (often confused with ‘Affair’)<br />
13. Alacrity, noun: brisk and cheerful readiness<br />
14.Anachronism, noun: a thing belonging or appropriate to a period other than that in which it exists,<br />
especially a thing that is conspicuously old-fashioned.<br />
15. Anxiety<br />
ü Noun: a feeling of worry, nervousness, or unease about something with an uncertain outcome.<br />
Strong desire or concern to do something or for something to happen<br />
22 Ink Drift Magazine<br />
www.inkdrift.com
DIARY<br />
OF A<br />
LEARNED<br />
SOUL<br />
SHIVANI JHA<br />
Dear You,<br />
I could stay for you, I wanted to.<br />
But only if you knew the value.<br />
I would have poured my heart, every ounce of Love that I had,<br />
every pinch of affection that I knew, I would have loved you<br />
with everything at my disposal.<br />
But<br />
I guess you were a bit too busy looking for something else.<br />
May you get what you needed.<br />
I wish you all the luck.<br />
I am going away, not because I stopped loving you. I never<br />
possibly can. I left because I know that as much I love pouring<br />
my heart on you, I need some of it back too.<br />
It empties me to keep waiting for you.<br />
It kills me to see you going everywhere.<br />
It empties me to see you do not care.<br />
I sound stupid to you, don’t I?<br />
I look stupid when I fall for your smile.<br />
I look stupid when I skip that stair because I was looking at<br />
you.<br />
I look hopeless when I come back to you over and over again.<br />
Yes, it’s true I love you, but I love me too.<br />
I am going because I am a river, you won’t be able to take me.<br />
I am going because I deserve an ocean, one who can dare to<br />
open his arms for me;<br />
One who can hold me with all my raging waves.<br />
Thank you for staying away.<br />
Had you not, I would have spent my life fitting into a dam,<br />
a pond,<br />
Or a vessel<br />
Now, I am free to flow<br />
To break dams,<br />
To trickle down the cheeks,<br />
To rise in a wild oceanic wave<br />
To settle like a dew on the flower.<br />
Not needed to fit in “we” and “our’<br />
I am free to be me,<br />
I am free to pour<br />
Free to devour.<br />
“It is not easy to trust, not easy to be heartbroken,<br />
not even easy to accept that the relationship will<br />
fail. But the toughest thing is to see and learn. This<br />
brings the courage to close certain doors, and open<br />
others. This is an honest reflection of a learned<br />
soul.”<br />
www.inkdrift.com Ink Drift Magazine 23
NITHYA MURALIKRISHNAN<br />
THE<br />
TRAVELER’S<br />
QUEST<br />
A traveler embarked on a journey,<br />
After having played many a tourney,<br />
The road seemed to be full of hedges,<br />
That seemed to cause a lot of wedges.<br />
The road seemed to extend on and on,<br />
He walked, with all his hopes gone.<br />
Then, he suddenly saw chrysanthemums,<br />
Farther ahead, next to the plums.<br />
Mesmerised by the myriad hues,<br />
He looked around, as if for cues,<br />
Twirling the flower tepidly,<br />
He stepped into the bushes, gingerly.<br />
Lo! The thorns struck his foot,<br />
All he could do was to howl and hoot.<br />
He retreated, flinching in pain,<br />
With all of his energy down the drain.<br />
He deduced that he had digressed,<br />
And had thus, not progressed,<br />
He had moved away from his goal,<br />
And so he was on the dole.<br />
Each man has his destiny, learned he,<br />
With neither sorrow nor glee,<br />
He resolved to reach his final station,<br />
Before he ran out of all ration.<br />
We are all travelers on the road of life,<br />
Where obstacles and troubles are rife,<br />
Some paths may be treacherous,<br />
And people, pretty contemptuous.<br />
Thus, the traveler walked on and on,<br />
Till the mirage was gone,<br />
He reflected on the path traversed,<br />
Until the day he was interred.<br />
24<br />
Ink Drift Magazine<br />
www.inkdrift.com
BOOK<br />
REVIEW<br />
SHUMAILA TAHER<br />
THIS HOUSE OF CLAY AND WATER<br />
All throughout my journey of reading this novel, the only thought that kept coming back, constantly hovering<br />
around was the inability to write a review that would do justice to the masterpiece that is This House of Clay<br />
and Water. How would I ever put into words what Mansab did so elegantly? And then I realized it didn’t matter.<br />
It didn’t matter because a book like this one, needed to be read, to be preserved and referred to. What the author has<br />
portrayed through the book has so far only been scoffed at, or spoken in hushed tones. Her promising debut novel is<br />
a fresh voice to Pakistani Literature and is sure to create ripples for times to come. It’s not a story you forget easily. It<br />
keeps coming back, to stay with you. It’s a novel you often think about. It’s a story that becomes a part of you.<br />
This House of Clay and Water is a story of love, of freedom, of identity, of betrayal, of courage and the need<br />
to belong somewhere. It’s a story of three lost souls, who are trying to find meaning, who are trying to fit in, to have a<br />
purpose. It’s a story of two women and a eunuch. It’s about Nida, Sasha and Bhanggi whose paths are meant to cross<br />
each other. Nida, an intelligent woman, married to Saqib who belongs to an affluent political family, tries to comply<br />
to the standards society has set. Nida, is also our protagonist. Burdened by the patriarchal system and belonging to<br />
the elite class, she struggles constantly. Her imagination, her ideas, her feelings have been reduced to nothing. Her<br />
life is supposed to revolve around her marriage, her husband, whose idea of an ideal wife means being submissive to<br />
him and functioning according to his convenience. After all, that’s what a woman is for. Nida is broken. She says, “I’d<br />
morphed, altered, nipped and tucked away bits of my personality for so long, I no longer recognized myself. I feared<br />
that one day, even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t be able to identify myself. I’d be forever trapped in an image of another’s<br />
making, and there would be no escape because I would have forgotten to want to escape”<br />
Sasha, on the other hand, belonging to a middle class family, married with two children, dreams of a luxurious<br />
life and an escape. Both the characters seem to be caught in a web of their own insecurities, hurt and shattered<br />
dreams. The third character, Bhanggi, a eunuch, belongs to the most neglected marginalised minority group<br />
in Pakistan. All his life, he’s been considered worst than pests, called a stain to humanity and beaten black and blue<br />
by everyone he comes across. He says, “I cannot rid myself of the affliction called hope. I scoop up its broken shards<br />
within the cups of my hands. I hold it fast to my heart every time it shatters against the monolithic reality that looms<br />
at every, in every human eye.” For Mansab, to attempt to portray a hijra as a normal person with natural feelings is a<br />
brave effort. No other writer could have done it so beautifully.<br />
The three characters; Nida, Sasha and Bhanggi meet at a Dargah. Here starts a bond of friendship and of<br />
www.inkdrift.com Ink Drift Magazine aurore 25
love. The characters evolve and undergo drastic changes throughout the novel which makes it even more compelling.<br />
The plot is smart. The author’s narrative technique and form played an important role in transforming the story.<br />
Mansab transitions between first person narration and free style. The reader will automatically adjust to the change<br />
because it’s not abrupt but rather smooth.<br />
The novel is based in Lahore and the author has aptly described the social structure of the society; where<br />
hypocrisy, money and power dictate how lives should be led. In the novel, Mansab, portrays the regressive nature of<br />
the people, of breaking stereotypes and how women continue to be exploited in the name of religion. It’s as much a<br />
story of redemption, of lost love as it is about outdated societal norms and disillusionment. This House Of Clay and<br />
Water is a powerful and moving novel, one that has dived deep into the psyche of humans and has opened up room<br />
for sensitive issues which are only discussed in closed rooms.<br />
“Some words are prisons. They’re labels of reduction. They’re like stones catapulting through mouths, hundreds<br />
and thousands of mouths, to target and hurt”.<br />
Author: Faiqa Mansab<br />
Publisher: Penguin Random House<br />
Pages: 272<br />
Format: Hardcover<br />
Rating: 4.8/5<br />
26 26<br />
Ink aurore Drift Magazine<br />
www.inkdrift.com
ATELIER<br />
RIVER MAHISAGAR, VADODARA, MAY 11, 2017, 04:49 P.M.<br />
BY SOUMITRO DAS, 5082 X 3354 PIXELS, CANON EOS 550D<br />
Gujarat born, amateur photographer Soumitro Das is winning hearts and minds through his<br />
collection of travel and street photography.<br />
This picture was like coming up for fresh air. He was drowning in the negative emotions of life<br />
and the children playing in the river saved him. They teach him to be happy for no reason, stay<br />
curious and fight tirelessly for anything and everything, not worrying about its result. He says,<br />
“Laughter and innocence of a child is the light of the home.They are the pure essence of pure<br />
hearts. No differentiation.”<br />
He captured this view on his visit to the beautiful river of Mahisagar, Vadodara. His clicks are<br />
simple as anything but can carry within them a million words.<br />
This picture is an example of how one should care less and enjoy and live in the moment of<br />
their lives. You never know what future holds in it for you.<br />
Ink Drift Magazine<br />
27
EIGHT<br />
STEPS TO ACHIEVE<br />
YOUR READING GOALS<br />
PRATIKSHYA MISHRA<br />
Many of us tend to register for reading challenges around<br />
the year, but few reach the goal by the year-end. So here are few<br />
pointers to help you achieve your bookish goals.<br />
Reading habits vary from person to person. Someone likes<br />
to read before going to bed while someone prefers reading the first<br />
thing in the morning. Someone reads fast, someone reads slowly<br />
taking his own sweet time. Someone prefers to listen to a novel<br />
being read aloud to him, rather than reading it himself. There are<br />
various reading challenges all over the internet- the Goodreads, Epicreads-<br />
varying on the basis of the number of books you are committing<br />
to read in a year, or the genre of books, or even color-coded<br />
challenges based on the book covers. Read 101 Classics challenge,<br />
LGBT books, Banned Books, Poetry Books, translated books, etc.<br />
Weird ones, challenging and interesting ones. Here are a few steps<br />
on how you can achieve your reading goals if you tend to lag behind.<br />
1. Choose a time-slot<br />
You need to be dedicated to reading every day. Choosing<br />
a particular time of the day to read can help a lot. It can be while<br />
traveling to or from your work or institute, in the morning hours, during<br />
lunch hours, tea breaks, evening strolls, park visits, or late night<br />
before going to bed. Since I am essentially a morning person, I love<br />
to start my day with reading. Leverage weekends, rainy days, and off<br />
days.<br />
2. Set Daily Reading Goals<br />
It can be 50 pages a day or minimum 5 pages a day, but<br />
make sure to set a daily reading goal and stick to it. Having a good<br />
bookmark handy works wonders. I am a bookmarks frenzy person,<br />
I use anything and everything pretty looking as a bookmark, be it<br />
strips of craft paper, clothes tag, a thin bracelet, a crochet, anything<br />
woolen, newspaper cutouts, photographs, etc. I commit to reading<br />
at least 5 pages a day, the more the merrier.<br />
3. Listen to audiobooks<br />
Sometimes it does happen that we are neck deep in official<br />
works and other routines, then we don’t have energy left to hold<br />
a book. That is the time having an audiobook handy on your smartphone<br />
and a good quality earphone helps. You can immerse yourself<br />
in the world of stories without having to strain your eyes, just<br />
make sure that you like the reader’s narration. These days classic<br />
audiobooks are easily available on Youtube, apps and other public<br />
libraries- Librivox, etc. If you are into short stories, 60 dB- Season<br />
of Stories- is a very good option. It has episode wise narratives, offered<br />
in chunks for the busy readers. I have listened to ‘Eat, Pray<br />
and Love’, ‘My Cousin Rachael’ and a few short stories by Jhumpa<br />
Lahiri and Haruki Murakami in recent times.<br />
4. Choose your genres and titles and mode of reading well<br />
If you are a regular reader, you must be aware of your<br />
own tastes and preferences. Consider a book after going through<br />
ratings, reviews, author details, and author interviews. While experimenting<br />
is great, try to make sure it’s worth your time and money.<br />
You can borrow books from a local library or a friend, if you are not<br />
sure whether you’d like it, instead of buying and hoarding bookspiling<br />
up your cupboard without actually reading it. Goodreads,<br />
Amazon etc offer recommendations for you to check out related<br />
works, those are worth a browse through. Modes of reading can be<br />
paperback, Kindle, ebooks, or even a weekly email subscription.<br />
5. Have your own reading tribe<br />
A reading group helps keep your interest in and around<br />
books. It can be online or offline, but have a habit of connecting<br />
with your tribe, and share your recent reading experiences while<br />
they share theirs. I personally love discussing books, online and<br />
offline, so a group who pays attention to my rants, and provides<br />
meaningful recommendations hugely helps. A community keeps<br />
you updated on the recent book release, book signings, and another<br />
book buzz. There are too many good books out there and too<br />
little time, so your tribe helps you come across your kind of books.<br />
It is through such an online Facebook group that I discovered my<br />
love for memoirs and travelogues, from reading just romantic YA<br />
novels, thrillers, mysteries, and mythologies. Subscribe the right<br />
sites, blogs, pages and sign up to join the active groups.<br />
6. Review the book you read<br />
28 Ink Drift Magazine<br />
www.inkdrift.com
I sincerely consider it the fundamental duty of a reader to review the<br />
book he/she reads unless it is deemed as not worthy of her time or<br />
way beyond his expression through words. I make sure to review<br />
almost every book I read, however short and long. ‘Eat, Pray, Love’<br />
by Elizabeth Gilbert took three posts on my blog- it was the longest<br />
review ever. I just had to include those feelings, descriptions, and<br />
quotes- I couldn’t do without it. Haruki Murakami’s novels make way<br />
for a minimum 800-word review, while some others, I just could not<br />
review. It overwhelmed me to even put to paper the feelings that<br />
bubbled inside me while I read those books- it was way beyond me<br />
to review these masterpieces. One of them I remember is ‘River God’<br />
by Wilbur Smith and another ‘The Palace Of Illusions’ by Chitra D.<br />
Banerjee.<br />
I continuously review a book, while reading it, every day<br />
a few points or lines that made me think, chapter by chapter, as I<br />
know I won’t remember the intricate details when I reach the end.<br />
My personal journal would contain quotes, symbolism, metaphors,<br />
and other trivia from the novel I am reading. And if I fall in love with<br />
the book, it’s characters, narration, and plot- I stalk the author online<br />
to know about his/her next writing in progress. And as you know authors<br />
love being stalked. (Laughs!!)<br />
7. Choose your reading challenges well<br />
There are various annual reading challenges that are provided<br />
by sites, book clubs, libraries, etc. Choose it well, considering<br />
the time you can devote, the expenses it might require, the reading<br />
tastes, and intellectual/emotional worth.<br />
8. Finally, Not all books are meant to be swallowed<br />
And that’s okay. If you feel the book that you are almost<br />
halfway through is not meant for you, it doesn’t match your expectation<br />
at all, doesn’t satisfy your reading thirst’s and obsessions- allow<br />
yourself to stop reading that book. Let it go. Make time for some other<br />
better book instead. And, others opinion do not matter as much<br />
as your own. I left reading ‘The Wuthering Heights’ halfway through.<br />
While the narrative was spellbinding, phenomenal, I hated the lead<br />
characters and the darkness involved was messing my mood. I don’t<br />
regret my decision.<br />
Reading can be a wholesome experience if you engage<br />
completely in it. It can be life-changing, deeply satisfying, and healing.<br />
Reading can be a therapy if you allow it to be so.<br />
Express gratitude for reading a good book. Review it honestly<br />
on your blog or share your views on it on the social media. Recommend<br />
it to friends and other book readers in your community.<br />
Spread the word. The author deserves it and you are the mediator,<br />
facilitator of a great work, the person that connects the book with<br />
many more readers. Feel good about it. Take pride in it. You are an<br />
essential part of the network of readers, the worldly connect. And<br />
if you are more than a little obsessed, just like me, engage in book<br />
Instagram, create book quotes, book arts, fan pages dedicated to the<br />
characters, write fanfictions, there’s so much more to this!!<br />
Happy Reading!!<br />
www.inkdrift.com<br />
Ink Drift Magazine 29
DREAMS<br />
SAMIKSHA KEDARI<br />
The world that has another edge towards things that stay as is in ours deserve to be<br />
written about and hence can play a significant part of our dreams.<br />
There exists a world in the sea of our dreams<br />
far from this reality where every moment gleams<br />
where faces happen to be one of the happiest places<br />
also, the eloquence which each and every smile chases<br />
where oceans are rising waves of fantasies<br />
while even hurricanes pronounce joys of<br />
eternal ecstasies<br />
where peace is found in the spark of each star<br />
a light so loud, it heals your every scar<br />
where the sun rises with a hope in its eyes<br />
and the moon spells beauty of all untouched skies<br />
where mountains touch galaxies and echo their own voice<br />
rhythms play symphonies of the humanity’s choice<br />
where the horizon laughs at the mess of the<br />
entire confusion<br />
and time remains a part of a mesmerized illusion<br />
where no one is ever willing to give up, and<br />
no one needs saving<br />
none sounds a lie, each glad about the path<br />
they’re paving<br />
some dreams live within their own smiles<br />
stories wrapped in mysteries buried in deep<br />
distant miles<br />
and some dreams are just meant to be<br />
however more or less we happen to agree<br />
there always lives a world away from here, or so it seems<br />
far from this reality where each and every moment gleams!<br />
30 Ink Drift Magazine<br />
www.inkdrift.com
Neil D’Silva<br />
The Top Writers Chair<br />
With six books to his credit one of which is a motion picture, Neil D’Silva is a known name in the Indian literary sphere.<br />
His stories have found universal appeal and acclaim in both the literary world as well as the world of visual media.<br />
He has been titled as one of the Top 7 Indian horror writers to be read by UK’s DESIblitz magazine.<br />
Neil D’Silva is a membevr of the international Horror Writers Association.<br />
He was a winner at the Delhi Literature Festival Short Story Competition of 2015, which was in association with Readomania.<br />
His book Maya’s New Husband also won the title of Entertainer of the Year at the Literary Awards 2015 that was<br />
co-hosted by Authors’ Ink Publications and Inside Stories.<br />
www.neildsilva.com<br />
TOP BOOKS BY NEIL<br />
www.inkdrift.com<br />
Ink Drift Magazine 31
BOOK OF THE MONTH<br />
EXIT WEST<br />
MOHSIN HAMID<br />
LIVING IN AN UNNAMED CITY UNDERGOING CIVIL WAR, NADIA AND SAEED, A YOUNG COUPLE IN LOVE, FIND THEIR LIVES<br />
BEING TURNED UPSIDE DOWN AS THEY’RE FORCED TO LEAVE THEIR HOME, AND EMBARK ON A JOURNEY THAT’S FULL<br />
OF HARDSHIPS AND STRUGGLE. AS THE CITY BURNS, WHISPERS OF A DOOR THAT CAN LEAD THEM TO SAFETY BEGIN<br />
SURFACING. THEY SOON FIND OUT THAT THESE DOORS TAKE THEM TO DIFFERENT LOCATIONS. DEVOID OF A CHOICE,<br />
WITH THEIR LIVES CRUSHING IN FRONT OF THEM, NADIA AND SAEED, DECIDE TO LEAVE EVERYTHING BEHIND THEM<br />
AND ENTER A DOOR FACING AN ALIEN WORLD AND AN UNCERTAIN FUTURE.<br />
PRAISE FOR THE BOOK:<br />
“MAGICAL VISION OF THE REFUGEE CRISIS.”- THE GUARDIAN<br />
‘A MASTERPIECE OF HUMANITY AND RESTRAINT.’- OMAR AL AKKAD IN THE GLOBE AND THE MALL.<br />
SELECTED AS TIME’S TOP TEN NOVELS OF 2017.<br />
BARACK OBAMA INCLUDED EXIT WEST IN HIS LIST OF BOOKS HE READ IN 2017.