Winning Entries from Thought Lantern's Stash of Season 1 Awards.

 

Thought Lantern organised its first season of Literature Awards 2025, spanning across different categories. 

Once again, we congratulate our winners who proved that talent has no boundaries. 

Here are the most incredible entries by our winners who proved that literature flows in their nerves and they have created a great impact on the history of Thought Lantern. 

First Entry by Bhawana Sethi for Memoir Writing Category. 

About the Winner. 

Bhawana Sethi is a compelling literary voice who seamlessly blends her two

decades of experience in education with a profound creative passion. Following

a long career in Delhi, she continues to nurture young minds by teaching

phonics from her apartment in Bangalore, embodying a lifelong commitment to

learning and development.

Literary & Creative Achievements

• Children's Fiction Debut: Bhawana Sethi makes her foray into children's

literature with the delightful book, The Adventures of Dabba and Jalebi:

Dabba and the Disappearing Dosas. The story introduces the curious girl

Jalebi and her mischievous best friend, the orange tiffin box Dabba.

• Poetry Collection: She has also debuted her poetry collection, Tapestry of

Soulful Stanzas, a heartfelt exploration of devotion, nostalgia, love, and

everyday reflections.

• Anthology Co-Author: She has been a co-author of many anthologies,

showcasing her versatile contributions to the literary community.

A gifted and versatile author, Bhawana actively participates in writing

community challenges while conceptualising further children's fiction projects.

Whether she is inspiring students, crafting captivating narratives, or finding

creative joy in the kitchen as a Home Chef, turning everyday ingredients into

culinary delights, her vibrant enthusiasm illuminates every endeavour.

Follow her creative journey on Instagram: soulful_articulation.

The Teen Parenting Journey: A Mother's Reflection. 

Parenting a teenager is like embarking on a thrilling adventure, complete with

its ups and downs, unexpected obstacles, and moments of victory. This phase is

a transformative period for both you and your child. As a parent, your role

entails skilfully guiding the way through a complex journey, where you must balance setting boundaries and granting independence. It is indeed a unique

phase in both a parent's and a teenager’s life.

As a mother of a fifteen-year-old son, the depth of the journey is now different

for both of us. My son has entered the storm of mid-teen years, which is an

exciting whirlwind of intense highs and lows, leaving the whole family with

varying degrees of aftershocks. I face many daily distractions, including figuring

out how to navigate his new social life, managing increased demands for

independence, facing peer pressures, trying to support him in making early

decisions about life, living in his mind about the future, and the pressure of high

school academics. I could see my son shift from being a child to being a young

adult. The simple requests of childhood transformed into complex negotiations

around curfews and boundaries. I have had to learn that the push-back and

increased requests for "space" were not signs of rejection but rather anticipatory

practice runs for burgeoning independence. This daily dance towards finding

balance between providing safety and bringing independence is parenting in the teen years.

Sharing some aspects of parenting a teenager:

• Encouraging open communication is essential for building a strong

relationship. This means consciously choosing to listen without judgment,

even when their opinions clash fiercely with your own. It creates a safe

harbour for them to return to when the outside world gets overwhelming.

• Treat your teenager with respect and build a strong bond. Simple

actions, like respecting their privacy by knocking before entering their

room, acknowledge their developing individuality and personal space.

• Try and create situations in which they can be given more

responsibilities. Assigning control over their schedule or a small part of a

family budget prepares them for the real world by teaching accountability

and problem-solving through genuine consequences.

• Celebrate each and every achievement of your teenager, no matter how

small, to reinforce their self-worth during a period of self-doubt and

intense comparison with peers.

• Engage in activities that you both enjoy together. Shared hobbies or

Weekly traditions provide invaluable, low-pressure opportunities for

connection that reinforces the parent-child relationship.

Make them aware of the pros and cons of social media. We must guide

them to be critical consumers, understanding that online life is a curated

performance and not a reflection of reality, while also addressing

cyberbullying and digital citizenship.

• Their involvement in everyday-to-day life’s discussion. Allowing

them a voice in family decisions fosters a sense of belonging and teaches

them how to engage in constructive dialogue and critical thinking.

Though it can sometimes be a trial, this journey is important for both of us. It is

a period of significant growth, self-realisation, and change as I see my son take

significant steps toward adulthood. It is important to me as a mother that I help

support him enough to thrive during this exciting, yet sometimes complicated

 time in adolescence. My goal is not to control the route, but to give him the

details, the tools he needs to navigate the path on his own confidently, and to

turn daily obstacles into meaningful, shared opportunities for us both to grow.

Second Category - 

Poetry Category 

First Winning Entry by - 

Reubenna Dutta. 

About the Winner 

Reubenna Dutta is a certified blogger, writer, and certified skincare coach with 12 years of experience. 

She specialises in beauty blogging and vlogging, and has a front hand in science-based skincare. 

I will Come Back

The day you will not want me to be a doll of your wish,

I will come back.

The day you don't conspire to imprison me in your plans,

I will come back.

The day you hold my light & dark in your hands,

I will come back.

The day you don't want to change, the sudden crazy me, 

I will come back.

The day you make my wild mind your own,

I will come back.

The day you embrace the careless, carefree me,

I will come back.

The day you don't pull me to your daily treaded path,

I will come back.

The day you treat me like a partner and not a prisoner,

I will come back.

The day you love me for who I am,

I will come back.

The Ends That Never End.

Just stories I want to write,

That makes you feel right.

Small life, small pain

Smaller tales of grief sadden.

Rather easy and clear

Millions of lost memories 

Float near.

Just a few drops of those tears.

No glory of vivid description,

No pride in a major inscription.

No preaching 

No teaching.

Leaving you with a void

Even after the whole you have read.

The ends that never end.

Millions of untold words of the world

An untimely bud plucked.

All the unfortunate lives

Dust of their unheard deeds thrives.

So many emotions

So many apprehensions.

Second Winning Entry by

Sujata Maggoo.

Sujata Maggoo lives in Faridabad and works in Delhi as a lecturer. She is a blogger and a storyteller, and she loves to read and write. Teaching is her passion & composing poems is her hobby.

The People I Lost, The Strength I Found.

I lost two worlds when I lost you both—

Papa with his soft wisdom,

Ma with her quiet, steadfast warmth.

Yet in the hollow you left behind,

I found an odd, rising light.

It came from the whispers you planted in me—

Papa's voice saying, "Stand tall, simplicity is strength,

And there’s Ma’s soft reminder, “Even in storms, keep your heart kind.”

When grief tried to break me,

Your words stitched my pieces back together.

I learned to walk again.

On the fragile bridge between memory and today,

Carrying your teachings as lanterns-

One in each hand—

Guiding me through the nights

That once felt too dark to survive.

Papa, your diary still breathes beside me,

Its pages hold my trembling days.

Mother, blessings fluttering around me like an unseen shawl

Warming me when the world grows cold.

In losing you, I learned the weight of love—

How it sinks, how it saves. 

The tears you left in my eyes have watered the courage in my soul. 

Today, I rise not despite losing you, 

But because your strength lives in me— 

Unfading, unshaken, eternal.

                                 Third Winning Entry by 

                                  Kadambari Gupta 

She is a poet-author co -author has published her poems in More than one thousand anthologies and has contributed as a poet to many literary magazines. She believes in pouring her emotions, thoughts and feelings through pen and paper and wishes to continue her passion for writing in the future as well.

SUICIDE WAS THE CAUSE OF DEATH

Death by suicide is the news each day read in newspapers, 

And social media, as these eyes open, they see a piece that has, 

A story of the decision taken by him to end the chords of his life, 

What happened that brought death so close within minutes, the 

The breaths saw a last drop, and in seconds, breath was lost. 

Bullied by classmates, punished in a manner so cruel and inhumane, 

When will the realisation strike that condemning bullying has to be taught

In school, bullying is wrong and not cool. 

They make him appear as a joke in the class, harass him each day, 

What will be that innocent child when one day he succumbs to the torture? As it gets worse, there is no one to hear complaints that do not reach their ear. When will these incidents end? These acts are waves to ruin the future of so many pupils. Those who take admission to learn and sharpen their minds, 

They were depressed and dying inside, death had to be the end result when

they couldn’t. Bear the repeated episodes of torture and insult. 

Each day this thought took rounds in their head, and one day they wrote a note, made a video, and the next day they were dead. 

The boat in the waters sees strong waves, yet with the support of a sailor and stable waters, the boat sails 

Humans are ignorant and insensitive as a society and institution; we have failed. 

How many suicide stories will it take to realise that bullying, ragging, and harsh punishment need to be addressed? , 

After reading this news, parents will think twice before sending their child to school. Such incidents demand immediate attention and strict action to protect the students whose parents  pay such high fees, 

To educate their children and make their future secure and bright. 

STRUGGLE TO FIND POSITIVITY 

The layer of negativity is so widespread that it’s a struggle to find positivity, 

Humans are becoming dangerous creatures ready to attack like those vultures. Each day humanity falls so low with each episode, there is a shock, 

So many criminals are exposed in a flow who roam around wearing masks of innocence. People are fake emotions are a joke; relationships are glass in minutes; they break. Announcements online are a trend these days; it’s a dark, cruel world, everyone says. Thinking positively is not possible. Rarely meet people who are intelligent and sensible, as each person tries to put you down, making cheap comments in front of an audience.

Everybody laughs it off as a joke and coerces you to ignore, yet those comments displayed the Darkness that vests inside people with harsh vocabulary and nails ready to peel

Therapists and sessions are required for the person to heal, 

No one is your own in today's time; people show their true intentions soon. 

Only the person seen in the mirror each day is the person to rely on, 

Some come for a certain advantage when taken, they betray and say a hard goodbye, leaving with questions as to why what happened and then only anger and frustration are left. There is a struggle to find positivity and kindness in this world today what is left is more cruelty to be seen. 

Our planet too suffers each day; there is only devastation and destruction to the green trees, animals,   and plants. 

It’s a struggle to live in this world today, where negative criticism roars like a lion of the jungle  roaming around, 

Without being caged in the road of this life spares no one, just looking for people to calm his long  hunger down, 

Each person is a hungry lion looking for prey to pull down and so that his nose can smell  every layer of dust, 

Today, emotions hold no value. It'sts all about lust, just fulfilment of pleasure, time passes, and leisure. A statement studying the current scenario is often made that the time of our ancestors was better; they lived a life. 

They lived a life in harmony and peace with kind people around, no sarcasm and criticism broke up their breakups, never made a sound. 

Today, we are with everything new, yet friends and relations are out of the window, miles away, yet there is peace. 

Each person is ready to butcher another. There is no certainty about life today. Being alive is a gift to cherish that can be taken away tomorrow. 

Then there will rain of sorrow, and this story will continue to repeat. Only a strong wave of positivity  can cover this darkness, and negativity can, 

Cover this layer of darkness and negativity. 

Runner-up of this category 

Shamna T H

An English Trainer, Learning Mentor and a writer. 

The Dissection Table. 

The smells of the hospital ward offended me

I was sitting on the bench in the dark room

The silence of the wall petrified me

The beep sounds of the monitors became -----

My alarm for waking up from bed. 

A sudden frozen peace boiled me when

An anaesthesiologist called my name

A couple of doctors in green surgical attire

Circled in a medical blend of the fumes

Oh no.. now they are ready to bisect my flesh and bones

My Lord, help me to elope from the table of bisects

I’m a helpless fellow in this world

The blood oozes out of me.

The sharp medical blade divides my muscles

Like an airgun splashing at the focus point

Ohh... no... We tried and failed

I heard the last sigh of relief

I can listen to the whispering words of the healers

I can witness the colloquial tears of my beloveds

I questioned myself, why are they mourning

Why were surrealistic holy practices around me

Is this a squabble or a horrible quarrel

I'm again stuck with the quarrel around me

I've toiled myself to figure out the puzzle

Perhaps I lost myself in the jungle of the crowd

I again started to question them

Why did they get into a dispute

I'm baffled again and listened to their voices

There is a mathematical calculation for me

One of my beloveds yelling with a numerical figure

I started to feel they are dissecting me

They are in disputes for an equal half of mine

I can hear the yelling of my soulmate

I'm on a table with a naked body

The white angels are around me ----

With high protective precautions

Tick... Tick... ouch... It hurts....

Blood oozes from my skull, and the separation of -----

My mind had happened.....

Each and every inch of my body was under scrutiny

With the angels and idol of God

Yes, with doctors and nurses,

I was nude on the table, and no one heard my voice

I'm able to listen to the inner story of everyone

Perhaps they can't....

Yes, I'm demised, I left the world.d

At an insane thought, I chose the leave,

Leaving the world became an opportunity

To enjoy my second rebirth as I wish

However, I regret standing by my will

Now, they are arguing for a white coiled corpse.

Hey, my beloved, forgive me for an insane mind.

Yes, my dissection is over and,

I’m ready for the funeral event.

Next Category Prose & Inspirational Writing 

Winner - Dr Romila Chitturi 

Author Bio

Dr Romila Chitturi, a corporate editor by day, literary editor by night, and a storyteller in

every other hour. Blogger, writer, Instagram aficionado and a mentor who makes creativity

look effortless.

Instagram - @thenovemberschild

PROSE 

Title: Red coats, Black ink

It was a moonless night in Delhi, 1897. The city slept under the weight of silence, broken

only by the occasional clatter of a horse-drawn carriage on the cobbled road. I kept my

lantern dim, shielding it with my shawl as I slipped through the narrow lanes of Chandni

Chowk. The air smelled of smoke, ink, and rebellion, my kind of perfume. Clutched against

my chest was a bundle of pamphlets, the ink still damp and dangerous enough to get me

hanged.

I pressed my back against the cold brick of a crumbling haveli as the heavy boots of a night

patrol echoed nearby, too close for comfort. Every shadow felt like a spy, every rustle a

betrayal, yet fear was a luxury I could not afford. I reached the rusted iron gate at the alley's

end and tapped the code - three sharp knocks, then silence. Tonight, we were not just plotting;

We were writing the history that the British desperately tried to erase.

Writing had been outlawed six months ago. The British officers called it a necessary measure

to “maintain order,” though what they really meant was: silence every voice that could stir

the soul of India. They burned presses, jailed poets, and paid spies to sniff out secret scribes.

And yet, here I was, ink-stained and unrepentant, carrying a bundle of forbidden pages under

my arm.

The parchment pressed against my ribs felt heavier than a loaded pistol, pulsating with the

dangerous truth of our defiance. Every step I took was a silent wager against the gallows,

knowing that while they could shackle men, they could not imprison an idea once it took

flight. I adjusted my grip, heart hammering a frantic rhythm against the paper, and slipped

into the deeper gloom of the alley.

My words were my only weapon. They spoke of resistance wrapped in metaphors, of love

disguised as freedom, of gods who whispered revolution through verse. I used to publish

under my real name once. Then they came for me. They dragged me out of my room in

Ballimaran smashed my printing blocks. They said if I wrote again, I’d hang at dawn.

But words are stubborn things. They seep through cracks and hide in their hearts.

Tonight, I had come to meet Arif, a fellow writer who ran an underground press beneath his

father’s spice shop. He printed our stories between ledgers and invoices, smuggling truth

through trade. As I entered the hidden cellar, the scent of ink and cardamom filled the air. He

handed me a folded sheet, eyes gleaming. “Your last piece stirred the city,” he whispered.

“Even soldiers are quoting it.”

Before I could respond, a knock echoed upstairs. Arif froze. My heart raced. The British

patrols. He shoved me behind a stack of burlap sacks just as two red-coated officers stormed

in. Their boots thundered, their torches slashed the darkness. One of them kicked open a

crate. “Contraband,” he barked.

They found the press.

When the first sheet fluttered to the ground, one officer snatched it up, scanning the lines. His

face twisted. “Arrest him,” he growled. Arif caught my eye before they dragged him away.

He didn’t say a word, but his look said everything: keep writing.

After they left, I sat beside the broken press, trembling. The city outside was still asleep,

unaware of the words dying in its underbelly. I opened my journal, the only piece of my

rebellion that survived and scrawled with a trembling hand:

In alleys choked with smoke and fear,

Where soldiers’ boots make silence near,

Ink will flow through night and pain,

And Delhi’s heart will rise again.

And that’s when I knew I was writing again......

Inspirational Writing 

Title: The Magic in the Mundane

By - Dr Romila Chitturi. 

We spend so much of our lives waiting for the fireworks. We wait for the big promotion, the

exotic vacation, or the perfect weekend plans, treating our actual daily lives like a waiting

room for the "real" events to begin. But if I’ve learned anything in the last few years, it’s that

If you only look for beauty in the peaks, you’re going to spend a lot of time walking through

the valleys in the dark.

Recently, I’ve been trying to embrace the Japanese concept of Wabi-Sabi. Roughly translated,

it is the appreciation of the imperfect, the impermanent, and the incomplete. It’s a philosophy

that doesn’t just tolerate the mundane; it finds a deep, quiet beauty right in the middle of it.

It’s the chip in your favourite ceramic mug that proves it’s been loved and used every morning

for years. It’s the way the sunlight hits the dust motes dancing in your living room at 4 PM.

It’s the meditative rhythm of chopping vegetables for a simple dinner. These aren't chores to

be rushed through; they are the texture of your life.

I think we get it wrong when we assume "extraordinary" means "expensive" or "loud." The

extraordinary isn't found in a location; it is found in attention. When you stop scrolling and

actually feel the warmth of the water while washing dishes, or notice the specific shade of

blue in the sky on your commute, you reclaim your time. You stop living for the future and

start inhabiting the present.

So, here is my challenge to you: stop waiting for the big moment to feel alive. Fall in love

with the process. Find the romance in the chipped mug, the messy desk, and the quiet hum of

your routine. The magic isn't hiding in some distant future version of your life. It’s right here,

hidden in the ordinary, just waiting for you to notice it.

Next Category 

Women Centric 

Winning write - up by Shweta Gupta 

A talented author, writer,  and a mom she has published 2 books My Rainbow Thoughts & Dil ki Baat. 

She is filled with enthusiasm and has also participated and won blog competitions. 

1st winner in this category 

Title - Being a Woman 

Being a woman is not a piece of cake,

She prioritises your needs and always puts her feelings at stake.

Hither tither she goes, runs ahead of time,

To meet your deadlines at school or office, her schedule accordingly she redefines. 

If she has a headache, she puts a balm and works,

If she is down with fever, she pops a paracetamol without bothering others.

But still you question her capabilities, you judge her for being slow,

You criticize her forgettable memory, with taunts you treat her low.

A woman in the house is not a robot who can be recharged to function,

She is your wife, a mother, a daughter in law who is hungry for attention, appreciation and affection. 

She is the pillar of the house, concrete to be a wall against dangers too,

She adjusts in your dominance but expects a reasonable balance from you.

Yes ! A woman is complicated as a mathematical derivation,

But to keep her face enlightened with a smile, it's like 'Maggi' too simple.

If her emotions can be a flowing river, they can be a destructive storm,

She blooms like the rarest flower and is crafted with colors of a fall.

Trust me ! It's not difficult to reach her heart,

You don't need a manual to understand God's beautiful piece of art.

2nd Winning piece by 

Ashima Syal 

Author of Canopy, a passionate poetess, Entrepreneur, and a Spoken Word Artist. 

Single Autonomy of Women. 

 A woman is the mirror of her own choices, so when she chooses to remain single it is by choice and not by chance. Women and singlehood, today the dynamics of women in the world have changed, their journeys are more than being nurturers, they are now the providers, by breaking the massive glass ceiling, they have made their way through in a manner that no more do they only provide for their families, they are enough for themselves too. Financial freedom, empowering journeys, building and breaking through spaces which were dominated for men once are now run by women, women feel so secure in their lives now that some willingly choose to remain single. But this choice of the woman choosing to be single, is not digested well with the society. Society still attaches the compulsive realm of marriage for a woman to be complete. Which is why many times, women hear statements like “ but she is not married still, she is 35, there must be something wrong”. “ But she should get married”, “ till when will she be able to live alone”, and these comments just never seem to come to an end. Women of today are no more lured by the societal domain of marriage. Careers such as CFO’ s and CEO’ s are the ones they are aiming for, such women are women who are driven with a strong purpose of ambition, they fulfill their requirements of life by chasing ambition, because career oriented women realise that it is their own capabilities which will help them maintain the divinity of their identities, to achieve a sense of self fulfillment they don't have to be necessarily married to a man. The women who prioritize their careers and choose to leave marriage behind are doing so because they know they are already happily married to their careers. Singlehood depicts power and not powerlessness, it is a mirror of the autonomy a woman has and chooses to never give up on it. Women who choose to live single have understood the power of standing true to the autonomous choices that they make. Women since the advent of history, were always “ othered” in their own narrative. But women who choose to remain single by choice, sprout out the courage to single out the others in their life that bind them. They are strong willed and single out from the stereotypes raged upon them from society. They change gender stories and turn them into single women stories who live not in the wisdom poured upon them by the society but their own wisdom. These single women are masters of their own life, they have mastered the art of eating alone, traveling alone, and above all living alone, these are the women who have won in life, because their being alone is never lonely, their singlehood is their greatest companion. Singlehood makes them explore their life journey at peace and not in haste. Their singlehood makes them stand out in the crowd, because they have chosen to breathe free in the freedom of their rights, the right to choose their dreams, and stand committed to them. Singlehood in women tells us how in the tenure of years and years, the psychology of women has changed, they have become like an open book, who take pride in living on their own terms and conditions. No conditions apply and neither will they ever apply to single women, because these single women are extremely occupied writing the pages of their lives with an empowered narrative every single day.

3rd Winning Piece by Poornima Sivaraman

Bio -

A 75 year old retired teacher now relaxing and enjoying her passion of writing blogs, singing, and cooking. She is also an Awareness Ambassador in the Spectrum Group. A storyteller and an author of a children's book.

Title - Woman's World.

“ Never underestimate a woman.” 

Since ages, women have been talked about as a weaker gender and they cannot achieve anything in their lives. They can never match with their male partners. They are better in a home, taking care of their children and family. 

Yes, I agree these were the thoughts during our great grandmother's and grandmother's period. They were not allowed to pursue their education after their fourth or fifth Standard. They were married at an early age and they were mothers of five to six children. They got so much involved with their family, kitchen and household work. They had no easy helpful Grinding Machine or Washing Machine. Everything they did manually. Many women were abused and ill treated also. But they could not discuss their complaint to anyone on any matter. They suffered silently.

The next generation to them, maybe in the 60s and 70s, things changed and many girls were educated but did not have much freedom still. There were a lot of restrictions to go out late at night, compared to the boys. Some women were teachers, worked in banks and in some offices. All were not supported well at home. They had to do all the work and manage their home and work front efficiently.

The movies were more of male - centric than women- centric. The male were shown as a more powerful figure than women. 

The developments took place and more women came forward, learnt Martial Arts, Judo and Karate. 

They could stand for themselves and were bolder than their mothers and grandmothers. They were appreciated for their work and many women moved to a higher level in their Bank and office. 

As the years moved on, women were appointed in all 

The three services, they shine in different fields, became scientists, travelled in Space and excelled in many sports. Many women became an inspiration for the young girls and they focused their goal on becoming like them. 

A lot of opportunities were created for the w

omen to come up in life. 

Women- Centric movies were made and everyone enjoyed watching them. 

“Greatness is not defined by extraordinary feats, but by how one handles the ordinary struggles of life with extraordinary strength, grace and resilience.” 

This is the true success mantra for every individual.

Life is never easy for those who succeed because they chose to rise above adverse circumstances. 

All is good but my mind is still searching for an answer, “ Are women still safe in this world ?” Teaching the boys since childhood that their sisters are equally efficient to do all the work, and respect girls and women, may make a lot of difference. 

The home atmosphere also makes a great difference. 

Next Category

Short Stroy Writing Category

Winning Entry by Anaisha Gupta.

A young girl filled with imagination in her mind a talented heart and a wonderful girl who does everything with full heart.

Anaisha Gupta is a spirited 9-year-old from Delhi who proudly calls herself a daddy’s girl and a teacher’s pet. An avid reader, you’ll often find her tucked away in a cosy corner, lost in the world of books. She is a sweet, stubborn dreamer determined to achieve something big when she grows up. Anaisha is a young author who published her first poetry collection in December 2024. She is a bundle of creativity — she dances, plays soulful melodies on the keyboard, and paints her thoughts with passion. Anaisha’s second poetry collection is on its way!!

Title - The Magical Hug.

One day, I discovered a key while cleaning my room...

A bright, glittery strange looking key !!!

I saw it once with my Grandma and  

wondered if it was magical.  

I always felt my sweet grandma was a  

mysterious lady. 

I began to roam here and there in my  

room with many thoughts rolling in  

my mind. Suddenly, a keyhole on a  

picture of me and my grandma on the  

wall grabbed my attention.

I never noticed it before but as I  

pushed it, a trap door opened and I  

fell down on a pile of maple leaves. 

I was left speechless! 

It was dark and a gust of wind  

brought a sigh of relief.  

I followed its source quietly and saw  

a crying dragon. 

As soon as it saw me, it smiled as if it  

hadn't for a thousand years. I was  

scared at first but its gentle touch  

felt very familiar. 

I asked myself ‘Is this my Grandma who disappeared a few years ago???

My heart pounded with mixed emotions 

and I kept staring at it. 

It began coming closer and slowly it  

hugged me tight. 

It transformed into my loving grandma. 

My grandma replied ‘I was cursed by a  

wicked witch. The curse could only be  

broken with a warm hug of a loved one.  

And my dear granddaughter, here you  

are! 

There was a flash of light and we were  

back in my room in front of that picture. 

My mom first screamed but when she saw my grandma, she cried with  tears of joy. 

She was happy that we both were home and we soon made sure to bury the key in our garden to be never found again. 

 It's still a secret between me and my grandma!!!

Next Winning Entry by

Manvik Sethi

Manvik Sethi is a remarkable 15year old author, athlete, and bright student from Bangalore. A

Grade 10 student at Capstone High School, he balances his academic pursuits with his

passion for basketball, showcasing a dynamic and competitive spirit on the court. His

formative years were spent in Delhi, before his family relocated to Bangalore two years ago.

Literary Achievements

Manvik was captivated by words from a young age, leading to his success as a published

author. His published works include:

• Beyond the Keystone's Glow: His first book, which showcases his extraordinary talent

and dedication.

• Rhythmic Words: A captivating collection of poems that explore a wide range of

emotions and experiences, from heartfelt emotions and joy to adventure and mystery,

reflecting his vibrant and youthful perspective.

His own writing is characterized by vivid imagery and thought-provoking themes. His prose

is often described as mature beyond his years.

Recognition and Influences

Manvik has contributed articles and poems to the Times NIE student edition paper and has

received notable recognition:

• Debutante Teen Wordsmith title at The Golden Quill Award.

• Gold Medallion Star Award from Bri Books.

He holds a deep appreciation for authors who move, educate, and challenge, particularly

admiring Sudha Murty for her eloquent simplicity and profound moral insights, and Ruskin

Bond for his evocative nature descriptions and heartfelt tales. Manvik's journey promises a

dynamic future in literature.

Manvik Sethi

Insta Id – manviksethi

The Day Gravity Broke. 

Okay, so here is the thing about magic, it looks way cooler in the movies than it actually is. In

real life, it is mostly just reading old dusty books and trying not to blow off your eyebrows.

My name is Sam, and I am a third-year student at Ridge Academy for the Gifted. Yesterday, I

had the worst Charms class of my life.

We were in Professor Ron’s classroom. It always smells like old parchment and chocolate

frogs. Our assignment was simple. We had to make a heavy iron ball float three inches off the

desk. Just three inches.

The spell was "Sursum Levita."

"Wrist loose, mind clear!" Professor Ron shouted. He has messy red hair and wears a maroon

sweater that looks like his mom made it. He is usually pretty chill, but not on testing days.

My best friend, Toby, went first. He waved his wand, said the words, and his iron ball

wobbled. It floated up an inch, then fell with a loud CLUNK.

"Needs more swish," Professor Ron said, chewing on a piece of licorice.

Then it was my turn. My palms were sweaty. I gripped my wand. I looked at the heavy ball. I

really wanted to impress the girl sitting in the front row, Maya. She is super smart and can

already turn a beetle into a button.

I took a deep breath. I pointed my wand.

"SURSUM LEVITA!" I shouted.

I think I shouted too loud. Or maybe I flicked my wrist too hard.

Suddenly, the iron ball did not just float. It shot up like a rocket. It smashed a hole right

through the wooden ceiling. But the spell did not stop there.

My desk started to rattle. Then, whoosh. My desk floated up.

Then Toby’s chair floated up.

"Hey!" Toby yelled, grabbing onto a bookshelf.

"Blimey, Sam!" Professor Ron yelled. "Stop this at once!"

But I could not. My wand was sparking purple stuff. I felt a weird tug in my stomach, and

suddenly, my feet left the ground. I was floating, Toby was floating, and even Professor Ron

began to drift upward, looking very confused.

The whole room was zero-gravity. It was chaos. Quills, parchment paper, and ink bottles were

swimming through the air. A glob of black ink floated past my face.

"Counter-spell!" Maya shouted from the front. "Sam, say 'Finitus'!"

I was spinning upside down near the chandelier. I pointed my wand at the floor.

"FINITUS!" I screamed.

CRASH.

Gravity came back instantly. Everyone and everything fell to the floor in a big heap. I landed

on my backpack. Toby landed on my legs. The iron ball fell back through the hole in the

ceiling and landed right in Professor Ron’s coffee mug. Splash.

Professor Ron stood up, wiping coffee off his maroon sweater. The room was a mess.

"Detention," he sighed, shaking his head. "For a week. And you owe me a new mug."

I looked over at Maya. She was trying not to laugh. She gave me a little thumbs up.

So, yeah. I got detention. But on the bright side, I definitely have the strongest levitation spell

in the class.

Next Category 

Nature Writing 

Winning Entry by 

Dr. Neha Tekwani 

Dr. Neha Tekwani, holder of Doctorate in Marketing Management, Masters in HR and &

Marketing and Honoris Causa Doctorate in Creative Writing is an International Literary Laureate.

Founder of her multi-Genre Author Personal Brand comprising books, scripts (long and short form)

poetry, lyrics, columns, she combines a world of imagination, wisdom and strategic storytelling.

Pursuing a creative and business minded approach, she has authored 15 digital novels, co-authored 20

worldwide anthologies and is working to launch many more original titles for digital and traditional

publications. Recently, she has begun her Freelance Business for international clients/brands

providing a variety of content and marketing services along with academic consultation for

Management Students at an affordable hourly rate. An ambitious and ambivert by nature she's forever

looking forward to working with brands and individual clients that help her expand her business,

creative and marketing skills and utilize it for entrepreneurship. She’s a book influencer; loves glass-

painting & calligraphy; has a fetish for modern style and fashion and prefers to read and research in

her spare time.

TITLE - ALL YOU NEED IS A DOSAGE OF NATURE: HEALING WITH THE PEACE LILY

In a world full of people striving to compete with each other, it’s no surprise to experience anxiety and diminished self-esteem. At this crucial stage, it’s pertinent to take a step back from daily life and rejuvenate under the open sky and breathe in the natural world, the core of our existence. However, as we explore this rehabilitative theme, I’d like to take into account my brief rendezvous with nature. As a child with many distinctive interests, going on picnics was one of my favorite sports—yes, it was a sport for me to wander around the spot collecting every small to large leaf from the trees. I stored each one of those beauties in my notebook, dried them, and studied their importance. With time, the book was full, but my desire to have more never abated. Initially, I thought I might become a Botanist, but as I began to grow up, the idea of studying nature became straining for what seemed mere greenery composed of layers, and beneath those layers lay a world—hunted and polluted. I hobbled towards a different path, but my mind was drawn towards the arcade of the valley that sang its song in quiet. It offered solace. Comfort. Fortitude. And as I leaned towards this memory of mine, I found myself going out in nature, specifically at times when I battle Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. It has been a part of me as long as I can remember, but that’s not the point I want to establish. While I’m penning this down, there’s someone out there who’s locked in a dark room, weeping for hours, dealing with an impromptu situation, or debilitating their appearance or self-worth. On social media, the world offers an optimistic approach, but in reality, people yearn to be heard, understood, and loved regardless of who we are or who we were. The nature of people is inversely proportional to the value the real nature provides during times of crisis. Imagine lying on the wet grass with arms wide spread, and bathing in the sun, forgetting the reveries and aligning with the light of the world. The nature talks back as a gentle breeze caressing the skin, taking away the plight and allowing a healing energy to reverberate within the body. This may be a short-lived experience. For an impactful restoration to a healthy mental state, having a natural habitat for working or breathing makes one feel at ease. As a nature enthusiast, the houseplant PEACE LILY joined my work desk because most of the stress today emerges from the work pressure, personal conflicts, and dysfunctional relationships. Given its enriching properties of providing peace, healing, and empathy, coming in contact with this plant is like a detox from the negative thoughts and perilous nightmares. Whether as a decorative piece, or air-purifying herb, or a stress-buster, Peace Lily is a friend, a listener at night, and a refreshing work-from-home visual delight. As a part of Spathiphyllum, this evergreen plant originates in Central and South America, bearing white flowers unlike the Lilies from the botanical family of Liliaceae. The contrasting dissimilarity between these identically named plants is— Peace Lily is associated with tranquility, thriving in the mid-humid temperature within the house. Embodying a vibration of succor, it heals as it blooms in its delicate fragrance. Often, the dosage for revival is invisible. Certainly, as the trumpet-shaped Spathe receives the generous sprinkle of water, it might surprisingly follow up with a glow in the heart and a turn to mindfulness. From my personal equation with Peace Lily, I inferred: Healing with Nature isn’t a process of growing an entire garden full of plants and flowers that I won’t nurture. It’s bringing home one, becoming a responsible caretaker, and allowing it to return the favor. It’s a gift of nature to remind humans that we inhale the oxygen they produce, and they take in the carbon dioxide. We don’t exist separately, but are co-dependent species. Life is in the small elements hidden in nature, and the closer we observe the lush imagery, the deeper our bond grows and the less we’ll dwell on the painstaking stages of our lives. “Not every inspiring icon wears a cap or carries a gun; some fight in nature.”