Category Archives: Creative Writing Competition

Demented Dictator

– Resplendent Rogue

A piece of paper from Versailles,
Powerless monarchy, a clueless Reichstag,
And the foolish world saw his sun rise,
Casting shadow on the German flag.

A guarded secret then, Not any more –
Grey bearded men passed the folklore,
That the ardent advocate of pure race,
Was once a nomad in the outer space.

Somewhere in Andromeda, a planet solitary,
Was his home, modest and consolatory,
During one of his ventures, unknown,
He had encountered the funnel zone.

A barrier – of space and time,
Where Everything was true,
And Every one was right,
A new dimension in the galactic paradigm.
His existence  transmuted to a waveform,
Jewish gods warn, “here cometh the storm”.

Remarkable it was, his newfound puissance,
Could see the future and the bygone,
Ubiquitous and omnipotent
He could dominate a planet alone.

Earth was an easy target, Germany a cakewalk,
His malicious mind formulated a plan,
‘All hail for the cocky Monarch’,
Enters ‘Messiah’ , the miracle man.

The propaganda was fraudulent,
His ideology was hollow,
But his speeches moved the Alps,
The mesmerized crowd had to follow.

The Wicked always get assistance in our world,
The friend Italian, and the German battalion,
He waged wars, massacred the Jews,
Merchants to tramps, then concentration camps.

But a single error and he would be exposed,
And the Humans would never spare,
He slipped into his own bog,
And was deep in the bloody affair.

The mess muddled further when he fell
into love,
Cute German blonde, the endearment of his life,
He Hurriedly arranged a modest marriage,
Last seconds on earth with his beloved wife.

Post the dreamy wedding night,
His ‘bloody’ hands shaking with fright,
Feeding his lovely wife the cyanide,
His lifeless clone by her side.

Bunker into ashes, so the reign of terror,
And the world fell for the forgery,
“Fuhrer commits sucide”, the bulletin read,
Humble humans and their tomfoolery.

Went back home and lost his wit,
Rapacity for dominion, the culprit,
The guilt and regret won’t leave him alone,
And he kept cursing the funnel zone.

He strolled on streets and boulevards,
And fellow men called him insane,
“Blood, blood, the Jews, my wife”
He still screams staring at the water fountain.

This was the runner-up entry to the online fresher’s creative writing competition, on the following prompt:

From Kurt Vonnegut’s 1959 book, “The Sirens of Titan”, the Chronosynclastic Infundibulum is a dimension where all the different kinds of truths fit together, and where there are many different ways to be absolutely right about everything. A Mathematical singularity where infinity ends, two parallel lines meet in Euclidean space, the last several digits of Pi can be seen and the entire number forms a perfect palindrome etc. Those caught in it could exist at all points in time in one place and also appear at another point for say, five minutes.

In a world that has long forgotten what Vonnegut knew, you and a handful others are the only ones who remember. So when a devious demagogue who charms with doublespeak comes along, you know exactly where he’s come from.

Advertisements

Leave a comment

Filed under Creative Writing Competition, Prose

Talespin’17 – Results

– Coordinators, ELS

Hello folks. Talespin, our annual spring creative writing competition, was held last month, and here we are with the results. The winners got books as prizes. The topics for the event can be found here.

Winners:

  1. Promit Chakroborty
  2. Nikhil Nayak

Their entries, as well as those of the other participants, will be posted soon. So keep watching this space for some delightful reads!

Leave a comment

Filed under Coordinator's Desk, Creative Writing Competition

Summer Sweat

– Warren Peace

It is a hot day and dry winds have discovered a small room and its dilapidating window.

I am resting on a mattress which has jute fibres protruding, erect to annihilate. I cannot tell if ants are devouring me or the mattress is revolting.

I see that all is fine. I am distracted, so bundles of time are missing. I cannot get this time back. I can call media warlords who sell my time to thrive but it would be futile. I am a victim but I am a perpetrator as well. And what is it, this time? There is a universal clock and another one which runs on my strong pulse. My time can be as I like but finite. My only purpose is to live without distractions. For how long, it is a matter of taste.

Right of the solitary window, I find myself sitting on a chair that wobbles and squeaks every time I shift my weight. The chair belongs to a table, which is perpetually burdened with rubbish.

We look at each other and the wind dies down. Our eyes glitter and we smile because we are in love. I sometimes doubt if she is real. She seems perfect but she looks just like me.

There are other rooms as well and maybe there are people living in them. But we are not sure. If they enter our room, they will see me, not her. But she is there, still sitting in that garrulous chair and oblivious of everyone but me. I will not move or answer. I have nothing to do with them and I’d like it to stay that way.  Everything, no matter how miserable, should remain as it is. There is no need to imitate.

I have decided not to get an old bedsheet to cover myself, from the drawer. I can ask her but she cannot hear me, cannot be persuaded. My menacing cadence is only for me to hear. Every inch of my skin is irritated but I am used to stifling afternoons.

She keeps her head down to let others of her reality know that she is preoccupied. She stays away from inappropriate men and women.

Like me, she doesn’t want to be guilty of anything. Incrimination is my fear of fears. I am understandably busy protecting myself. I see no possibilities other than avoiding every possibility.

I have infinite capacity for regret. She doesn’t anymore, her regrets never survive. Maybe I should be like her.

Every evening, she leaves the room to go for a walk and frowns at every crossroad and by-pass. Maybe that’s the only time she ever lets herself make mistakes.

We often go out for dinner and seemingly eat alone. The outside world tempts me to participate, I am also to contribute to it.

I also deplore inactivity and her viciousness. But she works so I don’t need to. There is another universe where I work hard and I am happy. Why repeat the same here?

I mostly leave early and let her find her way home. Even though she has lived here for many years, intermittently taking a compulsory holiday, she doesn’t know the roads well. She has no memory, no malicious desires except to do what will add to her harmony.

She wasn’t always like this. There was a time when she cried because of the promise of happiness. I can’t tell what has happened.

 

Leave a comment

Filed under Creative Writing Competition, Prose

Happiness, conquered! – Sweet Summer Sweat

– Nature’s Natural

Passed three hours of the merry rain,
Scaled four miles of the woods’ embrace;
I neither winced nor shrugged at the helm,
Victor, I, rose in the hills’ praise.

The green leaves hummed in the land’s tune,
The moonlight shimmered in its bliss;
But the banal chirp in the wind,
Returned me to the old abyss.

From heavens above it ushered,
For someone’s prayers had been heard;
Twinkling speckles veiled the Magi,
Before me was glee, in the mud.

Long ago, I had made a choice,
The pursuit of it, to pursue
Love and joy in my mundane life;
For paths to happiness it knew.

Scraped the brown off the glistening box,
Cleansed with my dripping merriment;
An angelic lever turned left,
My gaping mouth, over I bent.

No rains, no woods; No waves, No hills
Shadowed the poet on his way;
Returned he to his new heaven,
Down in the dust his prized gift lay.

Leave a comment

Filed under Creative Writing Competition, Poetry

A Thirsty Cloud – Sweet Summer Sweat

– Nature’s Natural

Lurking behind the veil of wisdom,
Thinning himself into the damp air,
Floats high above the hills’ teeth,
A thirsty cloud.

The piercing gaze of the land
And the unsaid solemn prayers,
Rises with the heat of the below,
Relinquishing his tears.

The sun’s scythe shears at his back,
Droops down he in fatigue;
Riding alone on the cool breeze,
He smiles his way through.

It’s the shade not what they care,
His sight meets with sneers.
Thus, lurks behind the veil of wisdom,
A thirsty cloud.

Leave a comment

Filed under Creative Writing Competition, Poetry

TaleSpin ’17

– Coordinators, ELS

 
“Setting topics for a creative writing event is too much work. It is like handing out ideas to every person who is suffering from a writer’s block.”  – Shehzad Hathi, TaleSpin ’16

Truer words have not been spoken. It’s even harder to set topics for people suffering from writer’s block if you’re suffering from writer’s block yourself. Well, we’ve done it, so welcome to TaleSpin ’17, the creative writing competition conducted as part of LitFest ’17.

The general guidelines are given here:

  • Plagiarism will lead to disqualification.
  • You can choose to compose on multiple topics. Your composition may be in the form of a prose, a poem, a comic or literally anything that involves some form of text. (Try to) Limit yourself to 2000 words.
  • Topics can be found here: TaleSpin ‘17.
  • Entries, along with the topic they have been written on, (and queries) must be emailed to litsoc.iitk@gmail.com
  • Deadline for submission is 25th March 2017. Winners will be awarded books as prizes and their entries will be published on the blog.

Leave a comment

Filed under Creative Writing Competition, Creative Writing Topic

Winds of Winter ’17 – Results

– Coordinators, ELS

Hello there! Here are the results of the Winds of Winter – Palindrome Poetry Creative Writing. Insert usual apology for delay, which you’ve seen numerous times this year here, and which we’re too lazy to even type out anymore, but we do mean it, that apology. Congratulations to the winners!

Three winners in order.

 Anushka Jha

Strange reality this is.

Fallacy and facts mixed up,

Fed manufactured lies and handcrafted truth,

Falsely projected self,

All aberrations,

All self projected falsely,

Truth handcrafted and lies manufactured,

Fed up.

Mixed facts and fallacy.

Is this reality? Strange.

 

Monsters on Your Bed – Pratik Mishra

14 only, was I,

but, you were 19.

 

Realize,do you,

Infinite memories,our,

of (daily) horror movies, vulgar inside jokes (unfunny),

 

that night turned into

(unfunny) jokes inside vulgar movies.

 

HORROR(daily) OF OUR MEMORIES : INFINITE.

 

You do realize ?

19 were you

but I was only 14.

 

 Anushka Jha

Flowers withered slowly

Days passing but nothing,  

Had she forgotten he was gone?

Waiting in eternity.

An eternity in waiting

Gone was he. Forgotten.

She had nothing but passing days

Slowly withered flowers.

 

Runners-Up

Siddhant Thakur

Winter

Pale, blue moon

shattering glasses

freezing hopes

shivering masses

deadlocked masses

shivering hopes

freezing glasses

shattering moon

blue, pale winter.

 

Ravi

Winter O winter!

Sweet honey iced,

Beautiful melody on guitar.

Shivering jaws with sip_of_tea

nose and eyelid dew dropped,

freezes heart,

Still fierce bumpy fuel of light

heart pumping by exploding fuel

nature speaking by chirping songbirds.

winter o winter.

Songbirds chirping by speaking nature.

fuel exploding by pumping heart,

light of fuel bumpy fierce

Still heart freezes,

Drew dropped eyelid and nose.

Sip_of_tea with jaws shivering

Guitar on beautiful melody

Iced honey sweet

winter O winter!

 

 

 

 

Leave a comment

Filed under Creative Writing Competition, Poetry