A man was giving away flyers to students in front of my college’s main gate, today. It was about some scholarship and all for final year students but I took it anyway. I took it not only because it was for free but I like flyers. It said that the eligibility criteria for applying for scholarship is 60% marks in 12th grade and all. I wondered why would they set the mark so low. Then I thought maybe they cared about average students or because they know that average students would pay for anything they saw hope in. Bah, business!  I entered in the bus and found a seat. I sat there and made a paper plane out of that flyer. It wasn’t the perfect plane. It made me sad. The paper was rectangular and my method was usual but still I failed to make it symmetrical. I could not fly it inside the bus so I waited till I got off. It started raining outside. I realised I’d not be able to fly the plane because the water drops would take it down. The driver applied sudden breaks. The boy on the first seat fell down and broke his glasses. He was sad too. I got off the bus only to find that I was sadder than the boy on the first seat. He was still able to laugh, with his friends, on his broken glasses. I was more indulged in sadness than him; it kind of made me happy. As soon as I got off the bus, I put the plane in my pocket and lit a cigarette in the shed nearby. Boy, the way I smoke I’m pretty sure if my lungs are squeezed then you’d find enough tar to fill the potholes in my colony. No kidding. Then I went to my room and took the plane out. It was crumbled. It was of no use now. It certainly taught me a lesson – everything does – but I am not yet able to figure out what the lesson is. I feel I do but I’m not sure.


But you know how it is…


-Sudhanshu Chouhan

Oh Caroline,

Will you ever come out

of my dreams

and tell the world

what you told me,

about me?

Have you figured out

what’s in my head?

What I think about

thinking all the time?


I was surrounded

by 47 hominids, today.

Yes, I counted them,

the creatures with body

but no humanity.

I was there, silent,

when one of them

said to me,


You know how scary it was,

don’t you?

Do you feel petrified too

when you’re fenced

by the unreal realm

of my dreams

and storms?

Do you not feel naked

when I see you,

when I look at you

with my misty,

half-drunk eyes?

They say I’m unpleasant;

hate my smile

and the cigarette

in my hand.

They say I don’t deserve

to be content,

for I’m mean

to everybody.

But you know how it is,

don’t you?

You think I could be

mean to you?

Do you?

Aren’t you mean

to me, too?

You don’t show your face,

you don’t show your skin,

but you expect me

to apprize your presence.

Sometimes I wonder

If you can even see me

and the blemishes

on my heart.

They say I’m too good

to be loved.

They say I don’t deserve

someone like you,

my Caroline.

But you know how it is,

don’t you?