Global Changemakers

This is a life changing programme I’ve got selected in and I really want to be a part  but I need your help. Even if you donate 1 pound I would be a step closer to achieving my dream.

To be a part of World Merit’s Merit360 programme I need to fundraise 1000 pounds. World Merit is an international NGO which works with the UN in various initiatives in Haiti, Syria and developmental projects like creating sustainable schools.

Merit360 is set to have young global citizens from all over the world come together to tackle the worlds most pressing issues.

360 talented changemakers will be joined by leaders of other NGO’s, world leaders, World Merit Patrons & Ambassadors, and senior UN Representatives. Previous World Merit events have included Richard Branson, Malala Yousafzai and Giancarlo Esposito. Already confirmed for Merit360, 2016 are world leading educationalist Sir Ken Robinson, Poet Suli Breaks, Human Rights icons Jack Healey and Eva Haller, activist Lauren Singer, Youth Envoy Ahmad Alhendawi, Lord Michael Hastings, Ambassador Joao Vale De Almeida and North Korean activist Yeonmi Park.

It will be a life changing programme for all the attendees and I hope you donate anything you can. I am tackling UN Sustainable Development Goal 2: Zero Hunger, and hence you foregoing one dinner will aid us in creating a plan which will feed thousands.

You can donate here:

Let me know if you have any problems, I would love to share my experiences with you all and empower my community.


Tanvi Kusum

Dear Sylvia,

Today I was thinking how easy it is to hurt, and how sometimes it is something we cannot escape. There is some dirt we have to bear on our soul no matter how perfectly we try to polish it.

If someone loves me and I don’t love them the answer is just a jerk and a quip at life being unfair. It hurts to break someone’s heart but it doesn’t hurt hurt. It is so easy to walk away it is almost scary. You have such immense power over somebody but you never give them credit for it. The rational in you is at its best reasonings. Anything could make you walk away when you really want to run.

But when tables turn and you are pining, your piercing eyes wonder how the other can’t see? Can’t he see here I am twisting and turning waiting to be recognised? Waiting to give my all in two seconds? WHY can’t he see the beginnings of the great love I do?

How can we forget the wounds of the previous and go on so easily imprinting it on the one who loves us? Is there any way to not be the inflictor? When you shelter yourself do the sharp edges of the cages only bruise your heart even more?

How does one come out of this without a trail of tears?

Publishing- First Love

I am currently working in a publishing house which is based in India. It is publishing an anthology on First Love, if anyone from India is interested in getting their work published please contact me through the comment section. I will tell you the details.



Tanvi Kusum

tough girl,
i love how your hair curls
metal circles of carbon dreams,
dear, I want to see whats inside,
behind that mechanised smile.
I don’t know why you seem like sand,
the castle so delicate,
we’ve built you with rashed hands and pain,
 a finger here and a finger there,
i’ll find the right place to break you,
tough girl,
it’s okay,
no one can break you after i’m done,
have you ever heard of anyone crushing sand?
it’s true, man eaters aren’t left with any men.


There are storms inside people we will never see,
People with faces the color of rain and insipid dew.
We find sorrow in ourselves.
Never quite sure if it’s the air that’s killing us,
Or the love we surround ourselves with.

One day we will find ourselves wondering
Why the air tastes like salt just before daylight
Or why the ocean has a voice.
We’ll see faces of strangers in constellations,
And not know why they look so familiar

It’s because we have been here before,
And these are lives we’re forced to live
Over and over again,
Until being alive becomes waves of verbatim

That’s why we fall for people who taste like poison
We call it love: to find someone more damaged than we are,
To steal the scars from skin and wear them as our own
Because the pain makes us feel like we’re living.

In the end, we are all just someone else’s ghosts.

You can find more by this author on-

Valentyna Holloway

Read me

I can feel when You read what I write.
My breath holds for a beat.
My heart becomes swollen with love for You.
My hips become tense.
My spine unloosens.
I can feel You, and I think of You.
Communicating through silence,
that You will smile when You read this.
Like the way my body throbs for You.
You exhale and I inhale, like an
inevitable fissure. On repeat.
The weight of silence between us
causing my ears to ring ~ do You
feel it too?
The things I want to say, but I never
communicate. The things I am so
cryptic about I think only You might
be able to figure them out ~ or
remember. I do too.
I remember the little things, and I
sigh, I imagine You reaching for that
sigh like reaching for a cat. Letting
it curl in Your lap. Stroking it until
it relaxes ~ and I do too.
The way You unfold Your arms, the
way Your body moves, the way You
shift in Your seat at times. My
writing so intense that it causes
tremors to run through You.
Intense, pulsing, throbbing ~
I feel it too. I whisper a wish
I am too frightened to say even
between my words. As the syllables
leave my mouth all I can fathom
is Your mouth on mine, intent,
passionate, burning, sparking that
inferno that rises to crescendo ~
You feel it too. And I wonder if
all we have left in this moment is
the hushed sadness leaving my
lips that I crave You, right now.
Yet I know when I close my eyes
You will be there. And I will be there
for You. Language will turn us inside
out, language will be lost in our embraces,
languages of tongues replacing them for
our arcane history will seep through and
pulse through words until all I can form
is Your name. Nothing else will make sense.
Two in the morning I will unravel like a
ball of twine and I will want You with me,
I won’t want You to leave me, I want You
skin on skin, no space between, just
electricity, just inferno, just the blaze.
And in that all too brief moment, we
will both understand.
This is what eternity feels like.
This is what eternity feels like.
This is what eternity feels like.

You can find more by this author on-

Tanvi Kusum

You handed me thorns 
And I gladly pushed them into my body,
You were marking your territory, maps on my cells
Killing them one by one,
Flags of your ownership, and my loss,
And I couldn’t feel a thing against my pounding heart. 
I knew you were wrong, I knew you were wrong,
I was in love you know,
Especially with the idea of you inside my head.
Hopelessly romantic, pathetically stupid,

Your neck against mine, caressing softly,
I forgot about the smoke filled room, 
and my hate for cigarattes.
I see it all, it doesn’t blur, 
But I’m so dizzy in love, it feels so good. 
Make me believe in you, tell me I’m beautiful, 
Tell me your lies and things about stars,
And I’ll gladly become the fool, 
Because oh, it feels so good to be loved.

Tanvi Kusum

Dear Sylvia,

I am not very good at letters as I have not written one ever in my life, except those which were forced upon me in English class. Even those though were very to the point and businesslike, even the informal ones!

Recently I read the letters of my father to my mother, my cousin’s to my father, and my father’s friend to him. I find them sometimes, in some forgotten drawers. What struck me in them was how they talked about their life and what they were doing with such clarity. My father’s friend was in USA at the time and studying Civil Engineering, he described all the buildings and what he saw and how their engineering differed from India’s. In this era of texting, we speak in short sentences, we know too much but also too little. It is so instant that a person doesn’t really get to say what he wants to, there’s too much of sending each other links than real talking. Letters are great because you get to fill this page with all you want to say, written letters are obviously better. I wonder if I have forgotten to write. If you’re interested in letters, there are there beautiful ones which Vladimir Nabokov sent to his wife, Vera. Though when it came out in public she was so ashamed (maybe that is a wrong word) that she burned all the letters from her to him. It was too private, she said.

While I am writing this I have a huge bowl of dal makhni which I think I’ll finish up in no time, though I am trying to stay away from it. I also have an exam tomorrow, but that is fine because I have already gotten in a better institute. I wonder what makes it better, I think I’ll go with the one which has more tennis courts. I hope all colleges have a different number of tennis courts to make my decision easier. Other than that, nothing much is going on in my life. It is also quite weird because I am still not ‘bored’ of it. I am in my house the whole day, doing unimportant things and yet I don’t feel the urge to go out and see my friends or do something. I am really confused as to what this something is. Though I do enjoy when I do go out, but I don’t miss it when I don’t. Maybe it is because I hadn’t really enjoyed, or that I am just lazy.

There was also this very important exam I had to do well in which I didn’t do. Wait I am new at writing letters so I haven’t really told you what exam yet. I was preparing for law this year so I am talking about those entrances. I did well in all the side exams, but not very well in the main one, which was CLAT. I don’t know what happened that day, I was very confused, in a trance, if you can call it that. Maybe I was over-confident or under-confident. One never knows, the difference between them is so miniscule. I also got this Pulitzer prize winning idea in my head for a story just before bed and I was too lazy to write it down. Obviously I forgot all about it. I forget almost ninety percent of my ideas, it is very dismal. But that is also because I am always thinking and I always get to some points which are writable so it is tough since I can’t write everything down. Someone must invent a brain recorder or something soon, since I also get very hilarious and unrealistic dreams which I’d love to watch again.

Anyway, it is the most annoying thing on the planet to lose an idea which you really liked. After losing one I find myself rummaging through my mind like it is filled with drawers. It is like finding a small handkerchief in a huge mess, sometimes you remember only a word of the idea and you get the whole of it back. That tiny little white corner saves your life. But most of the time god punishes you for being lazy and expects you to get a pen and paper.

That is all for now, I must go to sleep if I want to take tomorrow’s test. Looking forward to hearing from you soon.



Himanshu Bhatnagar

The Feast

Sometimes I’ve already written what I can’t write today…..

Tear me apart, limb from limb

You all can have your share….

I looked for love, found hunger; but

That’s neither here nor there.

Eat of my flesh, don’t hesitate

I’m sure it’s to your taste

Clean each fibre off each white bone

Don’t let any go waste

Peck harder to reach my entrails

My liver, lungs, my heart

Savor my organs, bathed in blood

Eat savage, ‘tis no art.

Poke out my eyes, chew on my tongue

Smash in my skull to see

My brain splatter and realize,

There’s no eternity.

You can find more by this author on-

Akriti Jain

Dear Sylvia,

More of me lives away from my existence
Pieces swimming oceans
Burning with forest fires
Roaming naked unlike my caged spirit
Running wild with rage, absolute anarchy
More of me dwells in thunderstorms and hurricanes
That threaten you and the survival of this dusty world
In the hearts of rebels, souls of sycamores and in indefinite shades of art.
I breathe i breathe i breathe.
I’m the high tides of the troubled sea
And the courage in the eyes of lost wanderers
I’m expanding in every direction, I’m infinite.

I’m broken into
A million fragments,
But I’m universe.