Two Opposing Thoughts

This poem is written by Clarissa D’Lima (BA. LLB. Class of 2021)


Two opposing thoughts, four directions in both, each springing from a unique entity

Weaned by different conjectures, moulded and scarred by circumstantial disparity.

Treading and rolling ahead to bring out distinct identity.

Directed towards veiled common pursuits, yet threatened in each other’s vicinity.


In the once serene garden of thoughts, now opinions are lost amid noise.

Controversies, confrontations mixed in cacophonic confusion have stripped words of their poise.

Fear and havoc, as tools to choke the informed voice.

Motives of power have made citizenry freedom its toys.


The solemn responsibility of human welfare taken as a shield against tolerance.

How can welfare be achieved without forbearance?

The fear of division as the as justification for schemed menace.

How enduring is unity is despondence?


Are our common fooleries greater than the individual sensibilities we like to flaunt?

Is there a nationalist so great who desires flourishing ideas to turn gaunt?

Why we fuel rages that serve no want?

Why obstruct the peace of discussion with the poor instruments of violence and taunts?

Prakrti ki Sundarta

This poem is written by Clarissa D’Lima (BA. LLB. Class of 2021)

Prakrti ki Sundarta shehron ka yeh dua chupa na paya,

Uski srishti yeh mela sa sagar ghol na paya.

Ki bas aanken khol kar dekho tho janoge,

Thodi dhayan dho tho yeh bat maoge.


Dekhna kabi sunhere  subha ki Kirano mein

Emaraton aur jhopdiyon ke beech guzarte unn raston pe.

Dehte hai  tar jiske  upar

Choti choti chidiyan terkte hai unpar.

Ki manav ka banaya yeh khatre unhe rok nahi pata.

Ki kisi anjan sambhavna ka dar unke chechane Ko tok nahi pata


Kabi dekhna samundar ke neele kuch kali lehron mein,

Ki saf hone ki shanka shyad hogi

Lekin unke behte awaz ki rag phir bhi man mein shanti bhardege.


Kabi dekhna unn chehron Ko bhi gaur se

Jinpe  hai nahi koi lep, sane hai jo pasene se.

Ki prakrti unhe bhuli nahi,

Bas hamari soch unke man ki tazgi ko samjthi nahi.


Ki hamare rozi daud mein hum khote jate hai,

Inn sundar nazaron Ko pehchan na pate hai.

Ki kahi uski  sajae achaiyon Ko andekha karte hai.

Uski sundarta ko hum kuch iss tarah bhulte jate hai.

Airbus on Tracks


This poem is written by Clarissa D’Lima (BA. LLB. Class of 2021)


Lost in sleep I know not where I drift,

Amid noise I find the silence lull and sweet.

How privileged to get these moments deep,

That makes me feel like I am riding on an airbus running on tracks, taking its leap.


The last night was cold and long,

Not physical, but mentally I won’t be wrong.

The same obsession with submissions,

The same eyes that craved to sleep.

But deadlines forced them to stay

To absorb the screen light and the darkness obey.


So, the next morning the train journey was used,

To let the eyes have their share.

To shut close in the new morning bright.

And lose themselves in slumber as on flight.

The sounds unwanted was lost in the daze.

I know not on what I ride, an engine or the cloud light.


Comfort came not from the pleasure of knowing the price tag.

It came in disguise and relieved my lag.

Sound sleep did not need a fluffy pillow.

It came just when the eyes shut to the mellow.

Freezing Times


This poem is written by Clarissa D’Lima (BA. LLB. Class of 2021)

You are what you breathe, I remember the campaigners say,

But my nose cold and hostile, forced by brain to disagree,

I doubt what I breathe, in the classes with windows ever shut

Fixed with a freezing machine that blows you into fray.


In its silent working, chilling shudders it drives into my bones,

Increasing the lecture hour’s drudgery.

My coat and sweater may not always suffice

At times they too fail to contain my mumbles and groans.


As a few more troubled voices pitch in, the call for the remote is made.

And till the aid arrives, I try to be pacified by imagining myself furry.

Crossed fingers, hoping that no ignoramus fiddles with the fan switch,

And give me a feel of having the Antarctic currents to wade.


My comfort while I encounter this unruly placed appliance,

Is then to imagine the sun, gloriously beaming over the flower and tree.

It’s warm embrace I crave to feel.

How happy with it shall be my alliance!


Each day holds hope that a more even air the gift of invention in future blow.

With the right adjustment of speed and degree.

So that the chills don’t induce me to weep nor seduce my sleep.

And let me unhindered listen to wise words and grow.

Faffing my story


This poem is written by Clarissa D’Lima (BA. LLB. Class of 2021)


Words are my game, seldom fashioned to suit the ear, but each fashion has it appeal
In times informal a faffer I am, but formalities get me faff-ing through
At the eleventh hour I shape my phrases like a potter at his wheel
Ride on my words and you’ll become a part of the crew.

Narrating my late night woes my friends I have often allured
But different is the scene when I speak before the blessed
I see them with questions ready to rip through my verses like a sword,
Now my wits I have put to test, my brains squeezed and pressed.

The one on the chair has evoked the sly tone with critical counters ready
While I sew the patches to of my failing memory to make a blanket warm
And comfort my thoughts which are freezing by her gaze steady.
Then struck by the truth I realize I am not just any Harry, Dick or Tom

I stand to tell about my skill of paraphrase, my skill to bend things to suit my way
I faff along till my oration has been delivered fine
Till on my evaluator’s doubts I have given my say
Ending another viva voce with words in reality I cannot yet define.