“So how are your studies going...in your college...ah..what was the name?”

“Amrita school of engineering aunty. It's going great", I responded.

The hint of mockery was clear in the question. Honestly, this was one of the questions I had dreaded ever since I failed to clear the IIT JEE. Like every other IIT aspirant, I changed cities after 10th for coaching in one of the best coaching centers. I was one of those brilliantly bright approximately 15 lakh students who dream to make their mark in the top 10 percent in India. So. Small town girl, big new city. A dingy little room to put up, a nebulous dream. And an even bigger sense of responsibility towards a humble home, back in the village. Damn! Sounds like a cliche Indian web series plot. But this is no fiction, but the truth of thousands of aspirants like me.

I studied really hard, two years without a break, no social media, no outings and no friends, but competitors. My walls were crammed with formulas and diagrams, and I slept in between a pile of books.

Finally came the D-day. Perhaps my best was still not the best. With a general category, I failed to get into a good IIT. Those 3 hours had apparently decided my life.

On one hand, some of my friends got into the IITs and became “the face of the flex" across the streets and served as a bait on the morning newspapers to lure the next year's lot of students and parents. On the other hand, one of my friends got clinically depressed and locked himself in his dark room for months. Some, like us, got completely forgotten by the coaching giant, like we, the average never existed.

I took admission with CSE in Amrita School of Engineering, at the Amritapuri campus, because of my knack for coding. In the past two years, the burden of expectations and the cutthroat competition had ruthlessly throttled down my creativity to nothingness. The pure ambiance of this college embraced me with open arms and nurtured the seed of fresh thought in me. I started painting and writing poetry again. The college slowly walked me into a complete social, mental and spiritual well-being.

I came to know that this campus has 3 very active clubs with a commendable track history:

FOSS@Amrita: It is a club where a group of students learns and do contributions to open source organizations. In 2016, 11 out of 16 selections in Google Summer of Code are from this club(Source). Foss@Amrita is ranked 10th in the world ranking in terms of GSOC selections. Many members are fully funded to study at various universities across EU as a part of their degree.

Team Bi0s: The CTF team is the #1 team in India in India and has been organizing InCTF, the very first large scale CTF competition in India, for 6 years now. The club was also the first to start a CTF competition (InCTF junior) and summer training camp for school students in India.

ICPC: The members of the club mostly prepare for ICPC and have qualified for ACM ICPC world finals twice in 2014 and 2015. Graduated members of this team too are rocking the cradles of the world.

I joined the FOSS club in the very beginning, along with a number of other 1st year students. I found a group of highly enthusiastic and welcoming seniors. Coming from the very competitive atmosphere of coaching class, I was surprised to see that the seniors were helping us selflessly! No, our mentors would not spoon-feed us, but only guide us towards the right path. In other words, they would only increase our thirst and make us capable enough to go quench our thirst on our own. The Internet has immense power, only if we know how to use it well. Whatever be the problem, we can surely “Google it”, without being dependent on anyone. FOSS@Amrita taught me how to “learn to learn" on my own.

Under the able guidance of our mentor, I soon realized, I would be more interested to do cybersecurity and moved to the Bi0s team.

The Indian government has embarked on a programme to turn the country into a digitalized economy with many initiatives like Digital India, demonetization, etc. As a result, increasing amount of citizen’s data will be stored digitally and a large number of transactions will be carried out online. With cheap and easy access, the internet has reached every common man. They put across their sensitive information on the Internet with basically zero knowledge about security, making themselves vulnerable to cyber-criminals and hackers. Keeping this in mind, the scope of this field in near future in India, and the world at large is endless.

Till date, I have been working in Cybersecurity. We have a separate lab with biometric access where we get a perfect work atmosphere, to work as long as we desire. I have been in contact with many friends in IITs, who are really talented but don’t find this kind of a support system and facilities in their college. They either have no such active clubs or have ones just coming up with no such outstanding track record over the years, unlike ours. Many of them have even spent a fortune on workshops to learn cybersecurity. But how can a few days’ workshop be compared to everyday hard work and regular 1 to 1 guidance?

There are many bright students who failed after going to the IITs, got addicted to gaming and wasted their time, being comfortable under the warmth of a reputed name and government facilities. So what is it that makes the difference? It’s the hard work that we students put in every single day, staying late in the lab after college hours, support of the best-in-the-country teammates and the vision of dedicated mentors, that form the recipe to a bright future.

Today, I am glad to say that I have been a part in laying the foundation of probably India’s first All girls’ cybersecurity team, where cybersecurity has been largely a male-dominated field, and there are many opportunities especially for girls in this field, which the poorly represented girl students at many IITs are not even aware of.

I am grateful to have taken admission in Amrita School of Engineering, Amritapuri. Yes, the rules are strict, there is less of the so-called “college-kind-of fun”, but there is also an awesome growth atmosphere and exposure. The rules are stricter for girls, but we who want to work can get an authorized letter from responsible faculties to stay out till 9.30 pm. The mess food sometimes gets boring, but it's reasonable and healthy. I am a Bengali foodie. Who else but me would have had to adjust more to Kerala mess food? Everything on earth has its pros and cons, and here, the pros surely out-wing the cons.

Amrita University is ranked the No.1 Private University in India by the official Govt. of India ranking system, the NIRF. Amrita is the 9th best University (overall) in the country, in the 2017 NIRF ranking list published by the MHRD

Not getting the IIT tag, is surely not the end of the story, but a Prologue to endless possibilities. And yes, aunty, today as I respond to your mockery-laden question, I realize, how lucky I am, and I don’t dread your questions anymore.

Sneaking into my nights

Tiptoeing into my eyes

Food to my flickering hope

My tender dream

It ‘was’

You and me

Are but

Just another wave

In the ocean

Of eternal infinity

Manifest unmanifest

Manifest unmanifest

Manifest unmanifest

Made of the ocean

Unmade into the ocean

And the cycle goes on

What is it in this

Short lifespan

In a mist of insignificance

That you worry about?

When in the end

All that stays

Is the ocean

And how you Made

Your little wave count.

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

-excerpt from one of my favorite poems, The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost

End Semester exams are here, and I don't feel like studying! And all I love is painting. No love greater than the love for acrylics, brushes, and paper!

Out of nowhere, I had this urge to paint this dark, curvy mother from down south of India, clad in her exotic indigenous beauty. I don't think it needs a description. Sometimes, the painting needs to do all the talking! 

one day

the labyrinth of city life 

would no more bother you

and the barbed wires 

would no more define your limits

I am an assortment

Of fragrant leaves

Of a mixed kind

You are a bubbly chaos

Laden in turmoil

Clear and wild

I will rush into your veins

Mix into your white

I am a teabag

You are water

I will leave you

Tinted and stronger

Micron pen drawing 

Some Failed Creativity:
Roomie 1: Why do still have your Physics textbook from the last sem? Me: Rip rip rip Roomie 2: We ran out of tissue paper Me: Rip rip rip Pours in some acrylic Some love Some texture Some nervousness Some more love Tadaaaaaaa!! There goes Some Failed Creativity This is my very first drawing video, please bear with the flaws, surely more creative stuff coming soon! Please Like, Share, Subscribe, Comment.

Collage, mixed media work on paper.

'Cause I am not a winged fairy

From your fairy tale,

But a tigress in the wilderness,

Busy earning her stripes.

They won't tell you stories of me

'Cause they are terrified 

By the very idea of girls

 Being dangerously soothing.

They are used to pretty pretty

And not pretty fierce,

They have not gone through hell

Come out gloriously scarred.

They don't know what it is

To be a perfectly-put-together mess,

They don't know how  to love

A brutally loyal wanderess.

And when they gift you scented pink roses 

And a bejeweled cage, tell them you are,

The smell of Earth taking showers,

The touch of name-not-known flowers,

The taste of wild berries

The wind and the new books and old libraries.

How you can be an irresistible confusion, 

Exquisite imperfection.

And if they can't stand it and are gone,

Don't you worry. The Right One 

Will have the heart to love you

As A Beautiful Oxymoron.

I have been humming to this song called Life
Come join me if you like...

We could gaze at the starry nights together,
We could break and make
A little more of each other.
We would flow like poetry
And mix like colors, easy and free.

But I fear transience
Life's very essence
I doubt my abilities,
Baby, I've always been a loner
You're a soul, I don't wanna scar.

What if one fine dawn,
Rubbing off sleep from eyes
We find it's all gone?
All trials fail and we are all undone?
I so hesitate, stumble and burn.

But this dear mistake lures me
I am ready to taste it,
Give it a chance,
And not regret once.
Foreseeing is not our task.

If it's meant to be, so be it
For now, let's just leap in,
Honest and pure
The scars will be worth it,
That's for sure.

And someday, if its all over,
As a silent smile,
I will return to you once in a while.
In that dry rose in an old book of yours
'We' would stay.

Breaking through inhibitions,
I have been humming to this song called Life
For now, just come join in if you like...

"If you are good at something, never give it for free."

Sometime back, some apparently wise person told me, after seeing my paintings that I should make better use of them, participate in contests, hold exhibitions, sell, etc. He especially emphasized on the selling part. He also told me never to gift my paintings, as a few years later they would not value them enough and they would be just lying in some dusty corner.

I was kind of convinced with what he said. My paintings are dear to me, if I give it to someone, it really means a lot. My heart ached in remembrance of affection unreciprocated, and at the thought of my so dear paintings being wasted on people, who hadn't even talked to me for years now.

But yesterday, I went to one of my childhood Math's teacher's house. I was seeing him after four whole years! As I touched his feet a gust of old memories gushed through my head. He was the one who built me up and strengthened my concepts since a tender age, for five years, my dearest teacher. He used to scold me when I talked in the class or didn't do the homework, and had (and still has) a well-varnished cane too! And it all was a sweet memory now.  I was one from his very first batch of students and his family, consisting of his old parents too loved me a lot. It was always more than a modern day commercial student-tutor relation.

His old father had been bedridden for years now, he could hardly talk and move his hands. After the classes, at times, I would sit beside his bed and talk to him. One particular day is clearly etched to my mind when I was sitting beside him, he called his 24x7 nurse to give him the bottle of biscuits. He couldn't really move much, so he held the bottle horizontally, by pushing it with one of his legs against the wall and slowly, with all his effort, rotated the lid of the bottle with his feeble hand to fetch a biscuit for me. He told me to take it. It was and is the biscuit I hated the most on earth, Marie Gold. I never ever ate it at home or anywhere else, whatever be the condition. My mom had tried in vain an infinite number of times. But that day, I just took it and ate. In silence.

Seven years back, on one such day, I painted this Buddha's painting for him and gifted it to him. He instantly had someone called to have it framed. Since then, it hung on the wall in front of his bed.

Time passed. I changed states. We almost lost contact.

Years later, one day when I was in Delhi, Sir called me to give me this news. He was no more now. This gift still hangs there. The family still talks about it when visitors come and ask about it. My name surfaces in discussions, in the midst of people I don't know, while I am far away in some city they don't know. I am remembered by half-forgotten bonds that had ones sprung up. This remembrance is much more than any money I would get by selling my art to hang on a arty wall of a big house. My dear painting wouldn't be so at home.

I looked at it and felt good to see how I painted when I was small, I noticed many flaws here and there. But I forgive the ten years younger me and smile at my old little mistakes. :)

I removed it from the wall, brushed off the dust and placed it back in its place. My teacher's enthusiasm in helping me do it filled me with warmth. The best place it could ever be in.

I was no more sorry for the paintings I gifted to people. If not all, some of them have found more than what I could ever give them.

To my Maths Teacher,

Dear sir, I find this weird why it is so difficult to tell our's parents how grateful we are to them, may be because a thank you is too little a word. 'Thank you' is for the rest of the world. And I just feel overwhelmed when I even think about it, let alone express it. For my parents and teachers like you, 'thank you' is never ever enough and like I could never tell this to my parents, I could never tell this to you. I type this with a lump in my throat.

Off-late I have been seeing lots of posts of this kind on Facebook, where a photo of a dark-skinned, fat or skinny person is shared which says tag a certain XYZ(a very common name).

 I get that people are trying to make fun of the fact that a certain name is too common. But people, there are much better ways of doing that. Okay?

I can’t believe people’s mentality has stooped so low! How can you mock a person because he/she looks or dresses up in a certain way? They are simply from a different background, race, etc. They are just humans like you and me. They too breathe, struggle, toil, succeed and celebrate. They have a personal life and they surely wouldn’t be cool with random people using their face for memes of this sort.They aren’t mere objects to be laughed at for your merriment. I mean this is so damn upsetting!

It's high time we get this straight. Each person is uniquely beautiful. No fixed parameters for beauty can be set by the media, society or you and me. Each person is designed by God, to be differently beautiful regardless of the exteriors.

I find beauty in the spark in a person’s eyes when he/she relishes his/her favorite street food, I find beauty in the sweat of the one working hard to achieve a certain goal, I am in love with the positive vibes one radiates, I am in love with the glow in one's face when one talks about a certain passion or dream! I find beauty in their imperfections! We all are imperfect, yet complete, gorgeous in our own little imperfect ways!

    No one gives you the right to judge someone on the basis of appearance. Fair skin doesn’t ensure a fair heart.

Please stop this racism, body-shaming, and hypocrisy on social media. I request you all to not share or encourage such posts. Report them.

AND! By the way...

She is  Gabourey Sidibe, an American actress who made her acting debut in the 2009 film Precious, a role that brought her a nomination for the Academy Award for Best Actress. This is the link if you wanna check the number of awards she received for her phenomenal acting skills. To know more go here!

AND...

He is Mark Jerrold Henry, an American power-lifter, Olympic weightlifter, strongman, and professional wrestler, who is currently signed to WWE on the Raw brand. He has been one of the most popular star of WWE. To know more click here.

To those who are sharing their photos, you stand no chance of marrying them anyway. :)

You are not beautiful like me, You are beautiful like YOU! 💓

What do I write about you?

With my limited vocabulary,

Lack of right words 'n' rhyming pairs

With spellings relying solely upon softwares,

As my dumb pen, struggles to make sense

With the boastful ink of inexperience?

You’ve already been written about, a million times

Your glories have been sung,

Enough metaphors established,

All aspects acknowledged, time ‘n’ again refurbished

In better ways, by better ‘poets’?

Do I even call myself one?

Do I write about…

Your brine-laden misty spray

That left my spectacles blurred, that sunny day,

As I stood at your sandy edge, scared,

With feet too timid to touch your might?

Pity my so called idea of vision, of the outside!

Or do I talk about...

Your vibrant melody, that sings of a lifeline,

Your soulful rhythm, so divine!

As your waves lapped over one another,

Calling to me incessantly in a row,

Regardless of my repeated denials to let go?

Or do I write about...
The drawings I tried to make on your damp sands
Names, doodles, self-declarations,
The ones I was so proud of, chasing praise,
A lame desire to show-case,
That your waves gushed in, to dissolve 'n' wipe off in no time?

Or do I sing about…

The colorful shells and oysters

I collected bowing down to you,

Just a little sun-kissed token, piece to view,

From the huge spectra of lives

On your gem-studded chest, that thrives?

Or do I just put my pretentious pen down,

Keep my fake poeticism for another day in the town!

Walk into and embrace your untamed spirit,

Let my uniform get drenched in your blue,

Let you wash off what tie me down to the shores

Pointless self-contours, egoistic shut doors?

Note: If you are viewing the pictures on phone, please rotate the screen. The mobile-version is not ready yet. Please bare with me!

Rusted weapons,
A blunt sword,
Can't protect that lil' corner we belong.
A damped roof,
Water seeps in,
Can't give the comfort, you long.

My old wall clock,
A deceptive mimic, hear it mock!
My time, your pace, don't match anymore.
All I have, a couplet of a poem,
A bunch of cards, hand-drawn,
They don't tug your chords, like before.

I loosen the strings, the ties today,
Dear Love, go drift away,
In the intoxication, your stubborn desire.
Will burn down the moments,
Drenched in sepia,
Your material empire, lends me this fire.

May you sparkle in your world,
In a glossy plastic wrap,
The lights await, where your joys lie.
Don't you worry, I won't walk that track
Will let it all go, won't look back,
Will coax those stupid habits, refusing to die.

Note: If you are viewing my paintings on phone, please rotate the screen. The mobile-version is not ready yet. Please bare with me!

Would the sound of my silence

Travel through the labyrinth of our routine,

Like my myriad words do

When they caress your skin?

Would the warmth of my gaze

Dissolve the wars we fought and lost,

Like the heat of my touch

Penetrates your smog and melts your frost?

Would my evening’s fatigue, sweat, and toil

Make you proud of my ways less-trodden,

Like my morning pranks and tickles

Add to our pile of memories begotten?

Would my flight, free and high

Make you be my wild gust of wind,

Like your ecstasies soar

For us being thus intertwined?

Would the traces of my thoughts

Etch marks on your soul,

Like the reminiscence of my estrogen

Lingers on your whole?

Note: If you are viewing the photo on phone, please rotate the screen. The mobile-version is not ready yet. Please bare with me!

Next time you see me sitting alone in the corner-most table of the college-canteen, don't think I am lonely...I may be spending some 'we-time' with my pen and doodle book. Just leave us alone!

When you have a three-hour class and you are utterly bored, make sure you have your doodle book with you! 😉

In the world of 

More knowledge, less wisdom

Commercialisation of cinema,

Hit electro-tuned singing by actors,

And acting by the singers, 

For songs more to be seen than heard,

For paintings more to be marketed than felt...

"Why did you have to smear
A dollop of truth
On my day-dream-tinted eyes?"
I was about to ask,

But then I fell in love
With your flawed reality.

I wore your pitch black darkness
As Kohl to my eyes,

And your name
As a smile on my lips.

How do you find
Melody in that so untuned,
Company in the deserted,
Meaning in the bewildered,
Warmth in the now dead fire,
Growth in the stunted?
How do you quench the thirst of the parched?
How do you be the wind to the broken wings?

 








In a chaos of words
In the commotion,

In the midst
Of a false definition,

My myopic vision
Could not see,

Your untouched white
Replete in beauty.

I refused to believe,
I failed to listen,

To mend my soul and faith
Quite broken.

Your world called,
Hard to hear

Somewhere you lay silent,
Letting out your aura

I reached out,
Transcending my fear,

You let me in,
Your sphere.

Your world of vacancy,
Thus fulfilled me.

I wonder how!

In your absence of words,
You set me free.