‘Detachment’: Avinash Dev


It’s not easy for me to put the genteel screen between us in the name of conduct,

And it kills to behave sane in the wilderness of my love and lust for you


Neither is it easy to hold back from tasting those lips which I always wanted to quench my thirst

And near to impossible to stay afloat in those deep eyes of yours that draws me in like a whirlpool


The eternal fire of love could only be allayed in your bosoms

For the savage in me does not understand the ways of the civilized


Your heat would what can alleviate my fervor and nerves could be cooled when feeling the wetness

Music of your heart is what my ears seek in a world where theres only You and I


Your ear lobes between my lips while we struggle to find our feet

You over me and I over you, fight for who over the top ceases to stop


Take me in and keep me there for I sense heaven

Feel my passion tremors and relieve me from this prison


That’s the mind of the barbarian, who does not see the educated ways

Distance yourself before the devil takes over


In his world there are no strings attached

Better for you if you stay detached



Vol. 2, I-iv & Vol.3, I-i

‘Being Human’: Avinash Dev


Where did we falter my dear
Where did things go awry

What is that we did do that we are here
What is that we did not do that fate took over

Whom to blame for all this mess
Just wondering if there’s a way out of this.

If only I can undo the changes going back in time
And fix those things that went wrong,

Do I think that we can be together,
and regain the eternity that is gone for ever

Alas I am just human, tuned only to move with time
No way I see to pull it back and set things in line.



Vol. 2, I-iv & Vol.3, I-i


Ishmeet Singh Music Institute

Report by Amritbir Kaur

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Ishmeet Singh Music Institute has been functioning in Ludhiana since it was inaugurated on 13 November, 2011. The institute was established by Punjab Government as a tribute to the memory of Ishmeet Singh, a promising singer of Star Voice of India fame, who had an untimely exit from this world at a tender age of 19. The institute has been working towards the aim of promoting the musical culture of the country under the able guidance of the Director, Dr. Charan Kamal Singh. The institute has many great talents from the field of music as the nominated members in the Governing Body: Bhai Baldeep Singh, Chairman, Anad Foundation, New Delhi; Pr Sukhwant Singh, Jawaddi Taksal; Prof Kartar Singh, Ludhiana; Prof Paramjot Singh, Swar Smund, Mullanpur. Ishmeet Singh Music Institute has the privilege of enjoying the able guidance and mentorship of Dr. Ranjodh Singh, who has been one of the convenors of the institute.

The institute added another feather to its cap by celebrating ‘ An evening with Raag Yaman’ – a classical recital live show by renowned vocalist Smt. Anjana Nath from Kolkata. Anjana Nath, a disciple of Pt. Ajay Chakraborty, was elated to be a part of the programme. Ustaad R.L. Deepak, a renowned exponene of Patiala Gharana and a disciple of Bare Ghulam Ali Khan Sahib, was present to grace the occasion as the guest of honour. Here are a few glimpses of the event:

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Arnab Neogi: The Poet

About the Poet:

Arnab Neogi, a computer engineer from B.I.T, Kolkata and a management graduate from Xavier Institute of Management, Bhubaneswar is a poet and an author in his free time.

His writing career spans more than a decade. He got critical recognition when one of his earliest poems “Remembering the Dead” appeared in the “Inkspot” column of The Pioneer Ltd. He was 12 at that time. Thereafter, his poems started appearing regularly in national dailies like The Times of India, The Hindustan Times Ltd etc.

He published his first volume of poetry titled “Inspiration“(2007, Offset printer and Publishers, Lucknow). His second volume titled “Beyond the Silver Lining” (2013, Sanbun Publishers, New Delhi) was met with success and rave reviews.

He is featured in more than a dozen national and international anthologies. His works have also been published in leading poetry journals like the Taj Mahal Review (Volume 12, No 2, Dec 2012 issue), Muse India (Issue 49, April-June).

He was interviewed by the German magazine “Spotlight” in an online interview to share his success story about his latest book “Beyond the Silver Lining”.

He is the co-founder and managing editor of an art promotion group called “Creative Collaborations”. He is also project coordinator for ‘Poets’ Corner’, a poetry promotion and publishing group which published an anthology “Inklinks”  that was released in the “Delhi Poetry Festival- Jan,2013”. The anthology includes works from eminent personalities like Dr. A P J Abdul Kalam, Gulzaar, Mr. Ruskin Bond, Hon’Ble Minister Mr. Kapil Sibal, Sandeep Nath, Irshad Kamil, Ibrahim Ashk, Sonnet Mondal etc.

His membership of literary organizations include the Indian Society of Authors (InSA, New Delhi), Poetry Society of India, The Indian Poetry Society, Asia-Pacific Writers and Translators Association and he has been granted the coveted membership of World Poets Society and the United Poets Laureate International.

Apart from poetry, he has a passion for guitar and loves playing the instrument.


Here are a few of his poems:


The storm shan’t pass,

disaster on thy women with labour,


with pain fraught a thousand mornings,

rise each day and behold the roses

or your beloved by your side,

cuddling her to hypocrisy, to forgone passion,


the bed creaks, the panes shatter,

the house is on fire, the smoke billets cloud;

the couple, unfathomable deep, their passion

are unmoved, ’tis but natural for them;


a thousand tales told, listened and forgotten,

this one wasn’t told, a country bleeds,

the faces around harrowed, smells burnt human flesh,

and the blood is but water,


doth the past still haunt us, or ’tis but present?

I ruminate, as I sit with wine

on a lonely day, lonely place, heart….

Waiting for my girl, my disaster,

love or hate forebrings thine shadow,

in life or death, thy shadow moves and

inflicts a thousand wounds…


Colors of Imagination

As the heat builds, and the sweat drips,
Eyes fixated on that little smear of tinge,
Cursing and swearing behind his breath,
The painter shoved back and fell flat;

That little gentle stroke did more to the art
Than to the psyche of the hand that painted,
The hand in the sketch seemed to move sideways,
Or so it seemed to the eyes outside the frame;

And canvassed was the soul who painted, illusioned
To the very life he inserted into the hand he sketched,
And he questioned the reality, himself or the hand inside?
The painter thus shoved back and fell flat;

Art doth feed upon the artist brutally,
The artist dies and the art burns his pyre….


The Woman


A cyclical tale of two hearts,

Woven into a string
Manifested, the sparkle around the neck,
A pure shimmer in the eyes, blinked;

Love hath no destination
The journey be enjoyed,
A Woman, the woman’s big heart
Big eyes, big love shared across;

A completeness to each soul,
A song sung in every heart,
A tune whispered in the ears,
‘The woman’ blesseth the man;

How can I find a gauge
To measure the depth?
Or lets dive into the ocean
Asphyxiated, yet mutual air to breathe;

‘A woman’ is born
To absorb and fume our love,
And the man can’t reciprocate
Yes, incapacitated to reply love;

Such is the tale of ‘the woman’
With a single focus, change constant,
Only to love and be loved
Never to shed a tear…….


Through the mountains….

When the wind recalls a memory,

And puritans call it love,

Don’t I feel a familiar smell?

The roads appear winding and smiling;


The mind tries and breaks free,

And the body holds back,

Fake attraction and incurable death down,

Loves feeling the pain for love;


A little subtle gesture a lone solace,

Do everything for that one moment,

Turn side and behold the horizon,

Keep moving and see more;


The mountains are so still,

Changes color with time,

Just watches and never reacts,

Zenith in its lap, inertia at its feet;


I go, and would never come back,

Through the mountains I go and search…..



By Ekagrata Singh


Very fiendish to explain

And don’t know, the bond I had with her

I turned into tears

So as I read

‘She was made ratty by six devils’

Broke the world into forlorn, shirty for the evil

‘Horrific saga occurred in moving bus

Onrush bus passed from posh areas.

Louts came to their line,

Want fracas with her friend

With this, the 27 year and 23 years old girl objected

A consequence made was a threat to her life.

They raped her twice,

Metal rod insertion into her,

Devils not ended with all this, insidious.

The two were thrown side at moving road,

With no coverings

In this chilly winter.

The blood oozed from their wound.

Both were made rushed to hospital.

Trauma was insanitary.

She shifted to Singapore for insatiable health.’

So as I was sleeping in forlorn chilly winter morning,

Running radio, extreme silence

All my ears accepted a voice of a radio

‘She is no more’

The world sobbed and so I too.

But all is

She was a brave heart.

Who passed those thirteen horrible days

Those last thirteen days of her.

Near, far, wherever she is

She will be very happy.

She slept forever.

But in all hearts

She is there.

Yeah! She is still there.

May her spirit lies in harmony.