Fly me to the moon but also let me stay on the dewy fluorescent earth
Take me on a ride through the cold darkness of space but also let me feel the scorch of the fire on the hearth.
Help me ascend to the gardens of paradise but also let me plunge into the abyss of hell.
Watch me breathe the petrichor of the fresh, sombre August showers but also watch me shut myself in the cocoon of my personal hard-rock shell.
Dance with me as the wind blows through our hair but also hold me lest I should fall off the cliff
Sing with me the soft melody of the waning Spring but also listen to my lone wolf riffs.
I’m caught in a paradox, a juxtaposition of two uniquely dissimilar yet symmetrical labyrinths placed identically so as to create a balance that holds my mind and soul together these days. I’ll go to the extent of calling myself a ‘walking existential crisis.’ If ‘befuddled’ was a person, it’d be me. Today, the world is literally hanging on by the thinnest, most vulnerable thread available. We really could’ve done better than this. Yet here we are, decked in our most glorious suits, or dresses for that matter, donning the gravest of expressions, talking about how we absolutely aced in handling the second wave of the Covid pandemic. Well, drum rolls please! The third wave is creeping upon us like a wronged, feral, revengeful intruder who shall not rest until he has avenged himself. It creeps upon us like a cataclysmic haze that seems to be condensing into a mournful gloom, brooding motionless over the biggest, and the greatest democracy on earth.
Not a single nation, state, sector has been granted mercy. The coronavirus has wreaked havoc everywhere and while we sit under the dying dull red embers of the last of the sunlight, we know the night shall approach soon and it shall bring with itself the unfathomable horrors of darkness. Under the circumstances, I think it’s fit to say that the world has witnessed a paradigm shift in its workings and its mechanism. Coming back to the paradox I’ve been talking about, the world seems to have made a seamless transition from offline to online, from physical to a world of virtual reality. These two different yet similar worlds, separated by an interminable vacuum, have become the unfortunate reality of our lives. A new dimension that percolates deep into the crevices of our brains and conjures all kinds of evil visages. On one hand, while we curse our stars for being caught in the midst of this catastrophic pandemic that has robbed us all off our now-too-late-to-make-college-memories, we also admonish ourselves for ignoring our privilege- to have a smartphone in hand, fueled by wifi and regularly recharged internet packs. On one hand, while we yearn to get back to our colleges and classrooms and sit on the same chairs we pulled to make our friends fall on the ground and see them groan in pain, we also appreciate the efforts our professors make to provide us material pertaining to our syllabus on the Google Classrooms. While we grumble incessantly about our online classes, we forget that there is a student of our age who is sitting desperately under the half-lit street light, clutching his books to his chest, waiting for some form of hope and consolation to warm up that fast freezing heart. Thus, it feels like sitting on the edge of these two worlds, on the very boundary, where one single shove from either side will get you sucked in the vast emptiness of ‘the nothing.’
Despite the chaos that reverberates even in the edgeless world of nothingness, all of us have been able to pull each other through to the other side without letting go and without getting lost in the deathly hollows of the broken hourglass. The online world did become a haven where we could rest and engage, and share our stories, like a shadowy grove in a bone dry land whose balmy presence cools our heated souls, strokes our withered feet and heals our broken spirit. In spite of the marauding pandemic, the educational institutions did their best in keeping our spirits uplifted, be it through inter-college competitions, talks organized on various topics, or discussions on the mental health of the students, our colleges made sure that we did not miss on our education and continued to hone our skills. In the same spirit, to break the monotony of everyday life, the Redstockings Literary Society of Bharati College organized its Annual Literary Fest on the 9th, 10th and the 20th of April, 2021. Being used to the pomp and hustle that filled the air of the college campus with fiery energy during the fest season, it was a challenge for the team to come up with an idea that could be effectively executed through an online interface and was simultaneously unique and different from other literary events. Thus, began the journey of Mélange 2021. The response for the fest was overwhelming. Students from institutions across India- from St. Stephen’s College, University of Delhi to University of Calcutta- participated and made the event a huge success. On the day of the valedictory, held on 20th of April, all the participants took the spotlight and narrated their winning pieces with such enthralling energy that the entire audience was immersed into a world of imagination and creativity.
At one point, everything used to seem so final, inevitable, predestined. But now I’m starting to believe that life may have more surprises in store than I ever believed. Maybe it’s all relative, not just time and light like Einstein theorized, and everything can seem threatening and transient until the universe shifts a little and the observation point is altered, and then suddenly, things seem more bearable. I might be ‘a walking existential crisis’ but I am certain that I am the sun in my own little universe and I’ve got to shine eternally, so my friends are you in your own universe.
Gauri Shukla
President
Redstockings Literary Society
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