R E A L I T Y: A façade.

I stare at the stars in awe,
and watch them twinkle,
and I whisper to myself,
you will be high up one there.

But then I grow up
and you tell me
the stars don’t twinkle
and they’re just small dots.

You tell me they’re
not where I think they are,
they’re not as beautiful
as I thought they were.

You tell me I’m not as
beautiful as I thought I was.
not as wondrous
as I thought the world was

You tell me the world runs
in a monotone of colors,
and a routine whipped to death
by mother nature.

You tell me there’s no
treasure at the end of the rainbow,
the sky is not actually blue,
and the stars are all dead.

The sun rises later than
I think it does.
The sun sets earlier than
I see it.

But then you talk of
my stars
and planets and all
these things I can’t fathom.

Then you tell me
all this is real
even though I can’t see it.

Is reality a robbery of this façade I made in my head?
Is this façade, beautiful beautiful façade in my head, reality

do crazy things.

chop your hair


with uneven edges

with a blade.


scribble profanity

poetry in your


with colorful pens.


grow your nails

till you eat

dirt along with

your food.


grow your leg

and armpit hair

and wear goddamn

shorts and tank-tops.


take a walk

along the beach

waves, till you

urge to drown.


collect beautiful

sea- shells

and break them

with all your might.


burn your

poetry journal

and watch

your words ablaze.


cry while

listening to music

you hate,

on high volume.


drink a bottle

of beer,

and puke

your guts out.


sniff things

you got on your

bar night,

and dream.


scratch the dandruff

off your scalp

till you

feel blood.


do crazy things.

life’s too fucking

short to dance

to people’s needs.



My First MUN

MUN, Model United Nations, is exactly what the name suggests. You represent a country, meet with others to deliberate over the agenda, and after hours of discussion, and a plethora of inputs from different countries, all the head of states(in this case, delegates) come to a conclusion and draft a resolution.

My very first MUN took place within the bounds of my school, and it immediately struck me as very interesting. Having a never-ending thirst for knowledge, and as someone that loved learning new things, Model United Nations, paired with research and the interaction with elite delegates of my age, really piqued my interest.

The Intra-school MUN to put it plainly, was simply the tip of the iceberg. In committee, I debated with classmates, whose terrain I knew really well. I knew exactly where they would be vulnerable, and played it conveniently to my strengths.

On June 15 and 16, I got to attend my first Inter-school MUN. As much as I was nervous, I was hugely pumped for the opportunity. I prepped like a crazy person, although looking back now, my genuine piece of advice would be that you have never prepped enough. How much ever hard you had researched, there would be some bits you would have possibly missed out on, so KEEP PREPPING!

I represented CNN in the International Press Corps committee, and it was an amazing experience! I thoroughly enjoyed the lively debate and gained a lot of insight into how hardcore MUN circuits worked, how competitive delegates were (pretty darn competitive, I would say.) and how to make the best of your MUNs.

If you love to debate, or love to research, or love to sit back and spectate human conflict, this the place for you. Introverted, or extroverted or ambiverted, GO FOR IT. Don’t go for the awards, go for the experience, the awards will eventually show up.

Don’t be afraid to ask questions in committee, even if it is a question on the rules of procedure. Go full-on with the questions, give your best shot, and don’t forget to enjoy the food. (MUN circuits also have amazing food!)

Döden (a depiction of a liberating death, by artist Janis Rozentāls)

Screenshot 2019-05-25 at 1.25.46 PM

Death cloaked in white.
Her feminine features glinting off her face,
As she slowly approaches a sleeping me,
And tucks the hair behind my ear,
“Quite a life you’ve lived, huh?” she whispers,
as I lull into my eternal sleep.
She gently carries my soul,
As she leaves behind a scent of roses,
before the rot settles in.

A layman’s guide to mug cakes

The origins of this obsession can be traced back to 4 years. That’s when I found a recipe to this and made it for the first time for me. Need I even describe the experience?

What’s amazing about a mug cake?

  • it’s happiness come in a mug!
  • SOOO easy to make!
  • short and sweet process.
  • it’s CAKE y’all.
  • you can top it with literally anything

Ever since I made it, I’ve been obsessed with it, and next followed multiple experiments and improvisations to the recipe, and I can proudly say now I’m an expert at mug cakes.

So my recipe goes like this:

Things you’ll need:

  • flour
  • milk
  • cocoa powder (unsweetened)
  • sugar
  • butter
  • baking soda
  • a fork
  • salt

How to make this:

  • take a dry mug and add 2 and a half tablespoons of flour.
  • add sugar based on your stress levels. for good outcome I would recommend 1 tablespoon of sugar.
  • add 2 tablespoons of cocoa powder (unsweetened)
  • now, add 1 cup of milk and whisk well with your fork.
  • add 1 teaspoon of butter and 1 teaspoon of baking soda.
  • add a pinch of salt for professionalism.
  • mix this in well, and heat for 3 mins in a microwave.
  • wash the fork you used to mix the batter, with water, and dry. use to eat the cake.
  •  if it’s an extra stressful day add a scoop of ice cream.



  • extra shit to keep in mind: you can substitute the cocoa powder with chocolate syrup or even better, with dark chocolate chunks.
  • just remember to melt the chunks before adding milk. half to quarter a bar of chocolate would work.
  • you can skip the salt and butter if you’d want.



I look around and think “I will fit.”

But will I be a perfect piece

to complete the puzzle?


Will I be the one piece

that will make a difference?

I breathe in confusion.


What if I don’t fit here?

What if I bring down

the puzzle altogether?


I snuggle myself in

the spaces found,

but I am not warmed.


I find my mind freezing ,

to the point where I think

I don’t belong in this world.


My mind squirms

to corners of warmth

to get more frostbitten.


I breathe cold exhaustion

and exasperation,

among tears that adorn my skin.


I blink among the tears

and look around, with

foggy eyes and an evident mind.


I see that I don’t belong

to a puzzle piece.

I don’t make a picture complete.

I am a beautiful complete picture.

-Shashvathi S H

(hoping to see with an evident mind, and embrace the complete picture I am.)








Angels that set the world on fire.

I see faces that stare into mirrors everyday, as they die,
I lunge those souls that breathed their last,
of surprise and thoughtfulness on to my shoulders,
and carry them to my abode of sleep.

But this one, I did not.
This one, stared at the mirror as she felt the monsters lurk behind her.
She looked at her face and smiled as though,
the monsters were going to gift her.
The monsters stabbed her with pleasure.
But she smiled on at the mirror.
I picked her cold body off of her blood,
and cried out “Why?”
“These monsters saved me from angels,
that would set me on fire,
And watch me shed my last drop of blood.”
-Shashvathi S Hariharan

Chaos- poetry.


Lungs filled with smoke,
Eyes covered in fog,
Mouth stuffed with sand,
Mind gelled out into chaos.

Living among scrunched up
paper and meagre amounts of ink,
I live art and
breathe Magic.

My mind tangled
amongst twists in my hair,
and the scent of
far fetched memories.

My lips burnt
of biting in doubt and anger.
My soul yearns to feel
warmth that singes, yet comforts.

My eyes simmer in pain,
my heart shrinks in ache,
my hands burn from scars,
my feet buckle under agony.

Is life truly a balance?
Is doubt in reality, fear
sheathed among layers?
Is my heart truth or my mind sane?

Questions linger in my mind
Mending my brain
into stitched up layers of fabric
But should I fear or embrace them?

Life is truly a choice between
Embrace and embarrass,
For not all glitters are gold,
And not all are to be embraced.

I sigh as I breathe confusion
Exhale madness
And consume guilt
And expel passion.

This is a barf of some recent thoughts that gel in my mind. Thought I should share it. Don’t ponder too much over it, sometimes I’m truly crazy.

Yours truly

CrazyLittleRowling  ; )

A serial killer with a sense of humour.

I sleepily opened my car’s trunk and bent over and picked up a black plastic bag and slowly walked toward the river, digging my nose furiously, with my free hand.

I enjoy moments of solitude. No one around to stare at you digging your nose or scratch your ass, as you contemplate if he’s the next one to experience your beloved knife’s cold metal.

Yes, I’m a psychopath. I have extreme tendencies to kill, and fortunately, I was smart and lucky enough to avoid run-ins with the law.

I looked around squinting sleepy-eyed, to check if anyone was there. I undressed the cover to reveal six smaller bags. I looked around another time, and undressed one another cover, and picked the pair of arms and run them across my nose. Aaah, the mingled smell of a dead body and it’s perfume.

I threw the arms into the river as I stepped back and heard the convincing splash.

Next, I emptied the legs onto the array of water as I heard the water make way for its gifts from me. As I emptied the covers, there was eerie silence. It felt like the world had silenced so I could hear the river splashing as it accepted my gifts.

Lastly, I undressed the last cover; the most unacceptable of them all: the head of my last victim. I slowly picked the head and took a deep breath, and let the head roll into the water when I heard the sound that I dreaded.

I heard two splashes, and if I was not mistaken, I had only one victim today, that meant only one head, unless my victim was a greek character that had sprouted another in the meantime.

I quickly turned on my flashlight, quickly and shone it around to see who was the one who had thrown in something into the river. I had to catch hold of this guy, who could possibly have seen what I’d just fed to the river. I felt my handcuffs in my back pocket and reached out to them, as I moved in quietly, swearing under my breath.

I shone it around and found a woman dumping a pair of arms. I swore I saw it. I mean what are the odds you meet a fellow serial killer while dumping a body? I stuffed the torchlight into my pocket and fled because being a serial killer I knew what would be your fate if you spotted a serial killer dumping a body.

I quickly made my way into my car and tried to quickly switch them on and flee when I felt my hand stuck. I couldn’t move it.

I was wrestled to the ground, and my face was facing a torchlight and an exceptionally strong woman.

“I promise this mouth can keep secrets” were my last words.

Well, you wish. I wasn’t dead. the next morning I woke up in this really airy and bright barn. I was handcuffed and gagged, of course. I tried my best wriggling and squirming but handcuffs are truly difficult to come from. I can tell that from my own choices for my victims, and now, from experience, but nothing is ‘not worth a try’.

I heard some footsteps and stopped squirming.

“I’m gonna have to kill you.”

I protested as much as possible with nonverbal actions, but she didn’t seem to get it and drew her sharp blade across my cheek.

I’m thinking you dramatically expected me to wriggle away from my handcuffs, and punch that woman in the face and save my life and this story for good, but I can assure you, none of that happened.

She stood up and picked up a few drops of my blood with a dropper and emptied it into a small tube and sealed with utmost care. She walked across the room and added it to her box of laurels.

She then returned to finish her job. I did the thing that seemed most sensible at that point. I kicked her in the face.

She stumbled and cursed out loud and gained her composure. She stood up to frantic banging on the door. She grit her teeth and squinted at me in frustration slowly went at the door, and peeked through the cracks. She took a deep breath and quickly unlocked my handcuffs, and dragged me along outside the window.

She carefully dragged me to her car and clicked my handcuffs along with the car. I could tell she was scared out of her wits, as I heard her breathing heavily. She silently watched from her car as an old man kicked the door open.

Now, you might wonder, “And this guy’s just watching all this stuff quietly without a single squeak? What an absolute loser.” But trust me, after seeing what was to come, I was extremely relieved with my former decisions.

The old man swore so loudly, I could quite make it out, hundreds of meters away. What he had found, was quite the thing, wasn’t it?

She stormed out of car clicked her gun, and shot the old man bang in the head. I  audibly heard the gunshot and shivered visibly. All these adverbs, because serial killers don’t do these stuff, seriously.

She walked back to the car, wiped sweat and stared at me like the trash she had to take out of her room. I tried smiling sheepishly, but the tape hurt my mouth. She grabbed some sanitizer and carried a large bag to the barn. She returned hours later, it had almost dawned and I can’t say she didn’t have to swat me awake.

“So long to get you killed!” she sighed, as she threw a large black bag onto my lap.

“What were you doing at that time near the river smartie?” she asked me.

I groaned in response to tell her I couldn’t exactly speak, and she smiled, nodded, eye- rolled and just drove on. All in the exact same order.

After hours of driving, I realised she’d driven us back to the river. She ripped my gag off and whispered rudely into my ear, “Who are you?”

“Adam Jones, of course.”

“Haha Adam. Why did you dump a head into the river?”

“Why did you dump a pair of arms into the river?”

“So you did see it. I should have known there was another one in the town. This is all my fault.” she sighed.

She came closer to my face; closer to the point where I could smell her breath. I’m pretty sure it smelt of Oreos.

“I give you two options, I dump you into that river, handcuffs and all, along with your old buddy,” and pointed to the bag “..or you do what you’re told.”

“I have a death wish.”

“PFFT.” she said and slapped my blood stained cheek.

“I’m betting that changed your decision.”

“Nope.” I spat. “I want you to take these handcuffs off before I make any decision.”

“So you can take off without completing the deal, darling?” she smiled.

“The longer you stay here the more unsafe it is for both of us, and you know that.” I reminded her, feeling smug.

Sometimes, I must admit that despite my impeccable sense of bad humour, I am extremely smart at this stuff.

She sighed and gave in and unlocked my handcuffs. She whipped out her gun and waved it threateningly, conveying, ‘You run, I shoot you in the head.’

“Here’s the deal. I do what you tell me but,.”


“..you first do what I tell you.” I said tackling her gun out of her hands and pointing it at her.

“Wow.” she said and smiled, as she accelerated the car straight into a tree.

The car jerked violently, and smoked heavily from the front. I undid the door and rolled on the grass, gun in hand. I slowly approached the other side of the car,

and helped her stand up.

She stood up and I motioned her to put her hands behind. I grabbed my handcuffs from my back pocket and handcuffed her foot to a metal pole nearby.

Quite the woman she was. I disposed her bag for her and returned near the pole.

This is the part where I, the narrator finally become the protagonist. Not quite by the definition, but you know what I mean.

I waved the gun around in air, as I spoke, dramatically. “Deals, we got to make some deals before anything else happens.”

She nodded.

“They’re going to be win-win stuff, don’t worry. You’re leaving the town.”

“That’s not happening, nor is that win-win.”

“Well, things are not going to be good for you, if the deal doesn’t go well y’know? Handcuffs, river and all.”

“Look dude. I could agree now, escape and later not leave town and hunt you down, and get things going, and you know that.”

“Now that you say that, I should probably kill you here.”

“Hmm. Maybe.”


“Okay, here’s the thing. I leave town, and so do you. We’re going to keep it chill, okay?”


“Okay, but how do I know, you’re leaving too, for sure?”


“Guess you’ll never know, huh?”


She sighed and crossed her arms, ans spoke calmly.


“So, here’s the deal. Two serial killers in town, ain’t going to go well for both of us. And both of us know that.”


“I knew something was wrong when three of my victims just went missing.” I exclaimed in frustration.”


“Well, for the record, six of my victims were taken by you.”


“That must have sucked, huh?” I mocked


“How about we join hands?” she piped in.


“We could do that, but that’ll take out all the fun, won’t it?”


“How about we alternate it out? You hunt and bring to me one night, and I’ll take the kill. The next night, the other way round.”


“You, for the first time in your life, may have actually come up with a good idea.”


“You barely know me.” she raised her eyebrow.


“Your choice of victims is horrible bleugh”


“Well, from now on you’re going to be exhausting my taste in victims to the fullest.” she smiled sarcastically, as I undid her cuff.