Hey guys!!

It’s quite amazing to look back and see how our hobby of writing got a platform to reach an audience beyond our homes. It is thanks to all of you that we got encouraged to explore and hone our interests further but as time as it we have found it difficult to continue with the same pace of posting on our blog or writing at a satisfactory level. Most likely we’ll be going separate ways next year but if we are able to manage we will surely resume penning down our views and sharing it with you all. But for now we are bidding adieu to this blog, and we will cherish forever the great journey we had on this blog, the contrasting opinions and suggestions that we received, the many tags that we did, and the creativity we were able to witness all around the blogosphere.

Well that’s that.

Thank you so much for your support!

Until next time………………………………..

~ DuoDisseminators

Khushi Mahajan and Kunjal Gupta

Our Candle

Couldn’t think of a better occasion than the festival of lights itself to recall the blissful emotion portrayed in this poem we wrote a year ago. Wishing you all a happy and blessed Diwali !!

Photo by Hakan Erenler on Pexels.com

Here’s our rendezvous with a candle –

It was a normal night.

Well all nights are normal till,

And Everyone with their laptops

Me with a book in my hand

And suddenly something happened 

Actually, nothing a havoc of surprise around.

The lights went out due to a power cut,

It was somewhere 9 ‘o clock?

All of us staring and trying, setting, mushiness into right.

Even though knowing light would come again alright.

So why not wait for it to arrive?

The encumbered batteries about to drain, 

No one paying  here a sight

Not even the clouds and shudders creeping inside,

And agitation growing, dwindling inside.

Hence, a candle somewhere turned out alright. 

 Some time spent in the dark,

With the single candle being lighted and giving light,

The wax gradually melting 

But till the last moment the candle did thrive.

 And we huddled together to the warmth we found. 

The candle stood there alone and we did.

The gloom and the dark, 

The glow both defied, denied.

We took care that it glowed

Brighter than before,

Till everything went alright.

And the light came ,it sure did.

when the lights went out, we hated it

So, instead waiting for the bulb light to pop on,

We lit one right then in its sheer demise.

To have a candle ‘s light in unusual circumstance

one must take it into strangeness,

when the gloom and darkness prance.

And so did we when frightened by a sheer power cut.

And hence the sooted candle, left a grave mark. 



In mere moments did my stance change,

As a new sense of hope seemed to rise,

A newfound confidence it bore

Some smiles it did take

to clear the lens fogged by cynicism

A few heart to heart conversations

To hear the profound music of mankind

In mere moments did my stance change,

As life acquainted me with significant surprises.

It took words, yes

And gestures and contemplation,

To make the quiet humanity roar.

But more than that it took courage,

To ignore remarks and judgy eyes

And become a carefree maniac

To fully explore life



A question of Mathematics!

‘The winds are always cold at this hour’ Reena thought as she got up for school. She lazily scrubbed a brush over her teeth and took a bath. It was 5:30 am.

The ball of sun appeared to rise from a red lid far in the horizon. The surroundings were dark as a starless night sky and as she went to her balcony, she waited for some sounds to occur. There was the muted rush of a bike, and the ding of the morning bell of the Durga temple. Pigeons cooed in unison. But everything was silent. A pale-yellow bus roared, driving out stray dogs from its path. It pulled to a stop at the Mahanadi Society waiting for the only student from this society to board the bus. Reena waved her dad goodbye as she entered the bus.

Jiya beckoned her to the third two-seater. The bus  bellowed and took a ‘U’ turn from the stop in the opposite direction.

After thudding a little it again came to a stop. Reena wondered why the bus had stopped. Was the engine down? According to the bus Didi, it was waiting for a child ‘s mother who had forgotten to bring his art material for his drawing competition.As silence stretched, the pace of blabber and jabber among children increased. Rohan, the ‘BothersomeBoy’ of the bus, cried at a nearby hawker for some bhelpuri. Many gawked at his courageous behaviour which soon invited a spanking from the bus Didi.

‘Which papers have you got?’; Jiya asked, breaking the silence.

‘None’ Reena replied

‘And are you participating in the annual day?’


Reena felt extremely sad and out of sorts. She repelled Jiya’s questions with a No or None. Of course, Jiya soon understood.

She turned her head towards the seamless blue sky. which was dotted with fringes of red, yellow and orange. Rings of birds marched and flapped their wings, cheering the younger pack to join. Red Bulbuls chirped as quickly as they moved. Butterflies circled around the nursery. However, nothing could turn Reena ‘s attention.

Reena ‘s mathematics teacher was to give the marks of Mathematics. Rather than feeling excited or perturbed she felt a numbness settling over her. Her teacher M. R Rangarajan, was a stout lazy domineering fellow. He never taught anything nicely, and whatever he drew on the board was done with utmost listlessness. He loved moving his pot belly to an old song while also drawing the shape of a circle on the board. He never went beyond 3 questions in three days, and soon the chapter got over with children left to do the exercises on their own. He never asked for notebooks regularly but rather in the most unexpected times.

In short, he was nowhere near to a typical Mathematics Teacher.

M.R Rangarajan was called Ranjeet in the class. ‘Ranjeet Sir arrived!’ Ranjeet, a popular actor was known to play villain roles in Bollywood movies in which he ill-treated girls. But instead of terrifying girls he terrified the boys out of their wits. He believed that it was not possible for him to toil hard for grade 10 for he was too busy with grade 11 and grade 12. And that, Reena believed, was the sole cause of her thinking too hard.

Yesterday, he had left half the stack of checked papers of her class at home.  It contained Reena ‘s paper as well.

The bus reached the school. Little graders pushed themselves in to go out first. The rest of the bus meanwhile, tried to wake up from drowsiness while people like Reena tried wishes, swears, and prayers to get out of their predicament. It was the paper showing day for all other 10th graders as well as 11th and 12th but none had got a teacher like M. R Rangarajan. Or Rowdy Ranjeet Sir.

At school, everyone was excited to see their papers. In English the class topper was Priyandarshi Goel. Most had got satisfying marks in science but there were those who still requested a slight increase in marks. In Hindi, people had written all sorts of poor and “unpersuasive” answers. It was the seventh period.

Ajay, the class monitor was given the responsibility to keep a lookout for Ranjeet Sir. His arrival after all, would mark readjustment of: behaviour, changed places, desks, teacher ‘s desk in the class. There would be a readjustment of everything in the class.

‘Ranjeet Sir arrived!!’.

Everyone shuffled and moved. When Mr Rangarajan entered the class, it was super quiet. He took a stride to the teacher ‘s table and sat down waving his hand so that we could settle down as well.’ Roll no. 1’, he called out.  Reena looked around in agitation. Hers was Roll no. 4. What would she do?‘Roll no.2’ Jayeshwari was a good student and everybody cried to know her marks. Reena felt as if Jayeshwariwas stripped of her privacy. Bad or good marks, she had the first right to see them.  Roll no. 3 ‘T.C Sir!’, someone called.‘Roll no.4!’, It was a chance, a punishment or both, for Reena to be having the fourth roll no. in the school.

She approached the teacher ‘s table and drew her hand for the paper keeping her head down.

‘The paper is partially checked’

What? she thought. He made some ticks and gave marks in circles.(2),(2),(2),(3),(3),(3),(5) How could she do all the 2 mark questions right? Wasn’t that trigonometry question of 2 marks thoroughly wrong?’ Reena saw him flick and put ticks. He looked at the marking scheme and gave her 1.5 marks in that question.‘But sir, why have you given 1.5 marks in this question? It is a silly mistake for an easy question!”

‘Aah I don’t remember the question’, he said. She produced her own question paper.‘Well the marks are given for writing the steps’, Ranjeet Sir said casually. But Reena was not satisfied. There was no reason to give marks. She had copied the question in those steps and done that question wrong.

If that is how marks were being awarded in each question, with a chief carelessness and indolence then those marks did not give her any pride.

‘ Sir, if in the final examination I make the same mistake will I get 1.5 marks then?’; Reena pushed.

‘ No but you have written the ste- ‘

‘ I don’t deserve these marks as well.’, She finally stated.

Her mathematics teacher stared at her in astonishment. He wrote zero in front of the question.‘Class this is the first time, No, the second time I have discovered an extraordinary student!’, Ranjeet Sir roared.‘The first one lives in Australia today working in some bank. I always wondered that your class had some inner potential. But most of you, including those going to coaching, worry about getting more marks! Perhaps we should learn a lesson today!’; Ranjeet Sir stood up from his desk.

Reena looked at her still left unchecked paper and sighed.Life can sometimes make strange demands to oneself.

(based on a true story)



‘ A New Look!’

Hello everyone, Duo Disseminators is proud to unravel the new look to our website. We changed the old theme because it lacked clarity to present what we wanted to convey, moreover some elements that Hever theme provided looked redundant.

Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on Pexels.com

Perhaps we were also unsatisfied due to the lack of views in the website. Honestly, who would want a to visit a depressing website despite whatever posts it contains! So, we hope you liked this new look! Tell us what you feel in the comments!!!


‘Eyeing through the lens’

Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.
~Where the Sidewalk ends


Past few months seem like a kaleidoscope 

             There have been great times, many events and fun

             But felt distant from self, as multitasking we coped

             Many hobbies ignored, some friendships slowed.

 Claiming victories, biting sorrows,

            Pinching out a grin to that amazing joke,

            Rising sea, receding sea,

            Receding slowly- back to the same shore.

  The waves of change do bring a shock

              When we choose to take a stand        

             Or succumb to be part of the flock? 

             Ah ! But slowly time must answer back.

 Half a day goes in the abode

Geegaws and mischief makers prance across,

Mulling about the changes alone,

Or are we the odd sheep in the flock?

   But isn’t it ‘’now’ that we create memories 

          Failures, and mistakes sure a part

             But something later to be cherished

             Will be the good old days close to heart 

  Her peeking in, till you have to sigh,

 Giving in to her bated eyes,

 Laughing till the skull cries,

  Farce culminated with a sweet lie.

   Carefree as we roam around

              Innocence deep inside

              Acting like an open book

              Having too much weight to hide.

  P’rhaps they are more troubled

             When they choose to walk alone,

           Or Perhaps we youth  are,

            Just a complex mystery -always unknown

` ~Bolded Paras- Khushi.M

Lighter Paras- Kunjal.G


P.S Hope you are doing well. This is a post after 9 days.( A long break from a rigorous posting schedule!) Hope you like it!😃

‘An elephant can’t walk alone..’

An elephant can’t walk alone. It has to walk with its herd’


I look out as the melody of the day starts.  Plethora of people will come and truly many will touch me but end up pricking me. They will try to harm my soul, the only part of me retired from the rest of the world.  Yet I know I will have to face them without giving an inch of my feelings to them. As I look at those people while standing in this mess and sliminess, I realise that I cannot even sit, and heave a breath of relief or fear. Petals of flowers adorn my face, the only aspect beautiful and yet. I want those people, some people, one person- to look at my legs, at my fleshy skin protruding out, the red ring of circles and the deep blows. And understand that these fat legs are about to give up. Perhaps someday they will. I deeply care for those tender moments I still remember. They encompass a staggered wearing love, warmth of which is gradually fading out.  The lone tree visible from this shed has lost many of  its green leaves.Mahouts pass it day in and day out without giving the water it quivers for. I hope that Ella is still waiting for me under the tree. The one with rosy green leaves and red juicy apples. Yet I am losing on these fragments. Just like the tree in front of me is gradually withering. I care for my soul. What do I have to live for, if I lose it as well?

*This has been penned keeping in mind the state of Joymala an elephant being subjected to abuse in Southern India. His skin is twisted with pliers to make him obey.. Its sad and painful.. I always think what Joymala has in mind..

Penned for W3 Prompt -19



‘How is life going?’

Generally, we tend to go over those posts that talk about life.. how life is.. how life has been. One may feel like the person is penning an obituary for his/her blog. (Obviously not us )

We are going through what will be some major exams, based on a pattern in which our brothers passed their grade 10th( Which means extra long answers and less MCQs). This not a reflection of our constant complaining, perhaps it is what is coming out these days.

Tension, monotony, realization, mistakes they all seem to be a part of the cycle of life don’t they? Well right now, we are staring at those emotions in their rawest form.

So we just both want to ask What about you? If schools are hard then workplaces are harder. College may give someone constant anxiety considering you have to come across so many people( and seniors). How is life treating you?


‘It sure did cry,’

Hello this is Khushi. Today I am penning a poem describing how free soul feels crippled when it is constrained. How it feels the force of being shut down…

Amidst the dread of night,
Seeing their constrained plight
 It sure did cry - freedom

Hands forced to comply,
Tears falling down as it cried
Amidst the dead of night

Compelled to follow norms,
It felt stopped and muted, 
Seeing their constrained plight

As it observed  the caged minds,
From the seamless sky, 
It sure did cry - freedom.

Also penned for prompt at: https://skepticskaddish.com/2022/08/17/w3-prompt-16-weave-written-weekly/ where poets were asked to pen a cascade. This was my first attempt at a cascade poem!