‘Glory or gory?’

He is successful and desired.
Ignored times -skewed  in  italics,
The gleaming face had once perspired,
Smile behind a mask of wrinkles

And she is successful and pretty.
And she has tons of makeup,
Just hanging over- a thinly veil,
Over Ringed eyes, ugly red circles.

They look awfully suited in this moment
Noting and recording their bare performance,
But there were tons of rehearsals and torment.
And - a Long tunnel-before the opening.

Shadows unhook in the dim of night,
The ballerina leaps and crowds sway,
Postures tried, cut out answers.
Glasses clinch, roars of gay.
Fear, beads of sweat, knee quivers,
They stand and raise the glass of the day,
Teeth shearing cloth while writing,
She is dressed in a gown of pearls.

Habits tried, crumple, restart,
He unconsciously checks the time,
 Nights  black and  dreary,
  They give a calm smile.

A child before the mirror,
Reciting the same verse,
A man before the crowd,
Dictating the same verse.

Moments being sewed together,
 Celebrations and cries of joy,
Cut out hands being put together
To this day of glory and shine.

As you can clearly see, the alterations are between the past and the present. It is a chiaroscuro of past and present! We would leave the meaning upto you!

‘ So what do you guys think about this post!’

More such posts:

  1. Climate Change and We
  2. Family and We
  3. Old Crisis in the Neighbourhood.

Also both of us had created an interesting form to know your guys ‘views about personality tests. Do check it out.



‘ Family and we’

7 Unexpected Benefits of Eating Together as a Family, According to Science  | Parents

But young and old again met again,
On Meals per night- embroiling us safer.

Hello guys this is Kunjal. I had written this piece before overtaken by certain whims and emotions.! do tell me your opinion about this one



Every room, I allude now , in my passing thoughts.
Some scent and cries never go worn
For first our little heads were raised, and worked on,
And our backs were held high on low grounds.
Each frail shoulder we held from being torn.
But sometimes, the knot did go wrong.

To learn, We love, We learnt to detach.
Preparation for every summer.
Every summer, when we bade to each other.
Summers – when we pursued our life matters.
But young and old again met again,
On Meals per night- making us safer.

Surpassed the summers- the winter.
Cold dry heavy thick winds
Dark unamusing, confrontational splinters.
‘Claims’ and hands clamping loudly , a wince.
Sometimes the knot did go wrong.
Though the listeners remained the same- no choice ever.

we fought, we toiled again
We reworked.
Many times against challenges.
Sometimes within us.
We were a part of a family.
Simply, we were chained for better or worse.

A galaxy holds both light and dark matter,
This is true, but in
Every struggle we had felt our loss more than an awaiting ‘better’
Because it always came as a surprise.
A quite sudden twist – an unwelcome knot.
A wrenching pain in the back,
A thrust, a pull , waging wars.. Shrill cries..
And (Nd) more adjectives are coming.
Is this repeating again, now?



Written By: Kunjal Gupta

Duo Disseminators

We are put to test again and again. Let ‘s see if we pass this one’

IMAGE CREDITS: https://www.parents.com/recipes/tips/unexpected-benefits-of-eating-together-as-a-family-according-to-science/

Oh and by the way guys the Duo Disseminators wishes our Indian readers a very Happy Republic Day! To know more about one of the many struggles to independence read one of our posts here.


Sketched by Khushi.M

Hello guys this is Khushi, one of the Duo Disseminators. Along with writing content that is usually aimed politically, you will also find us writing poems, short stories.

So, I am writing this poem as a reflection my own view towards life, what I believe is what carries me forward to see more of life. Hope you like it.


How long will materiality define emotions? 

Where to go if loved ones mislead our way?

Is it too hard to believe that you can live?

In Solitude, on your own terms, with nothing to dismay? 


My attachment isn’t always to this present,

Neither people, nor pets, 

What makes me want to live is an, 

Unseen, unheard, invisible debt 


A want to experience 

The contendednes of publishing a book

The feel of playing piano in spotlight

The vibe of a Renaissance look 


To spill the paints on a white canvas

To dance on road like a maniac,

To drive a car with sad music on

To become a philosophical brainiac 


These desires out of question instill a want to see them in reality,

Two different worlds coexisting together,

The world of dreams where everything becomes real ,

The world of reality where hope rises and bring them closer.



Pennned by – Khushi.M ( DuoDisseminators)

‘How much will you run away?’

Hey guys ! We are here with a SERIES of a story this time ….. One that explores the different aspects of life and the impact of nature and poetry.

This work is towards combining both poems and story to spread our bigger idea behind it all. Hope you all like it!

‘Come, take a walk under the dark 

As the luminous stars

Form a silhouette stark

The moon illuminated ,

By their shine and flare

Look at them

A dreamy fantasy they share’

“So… Did you like it?”, Leo asked. Tarun just looked down the city utterly confused. Cars went by, mums shouted in the dark.  It was dinner time amongst families.

 He stood perplexed, as both friends looked over the terrace of their block smoking.

“I enjoy stars’ he said after a While. “You didn’t get any of it did you?”

Tarun just shook his head, he understood all this “I see poets. Poetry…  Stars, nights, days,rainbows, everything you write about all of them. What are they called…metaphors… alliteration, allegory and- “?

“ What is the meaning of this poetry?”. Leo started looking at the sky. Hard. The stars were jiggling out of their positions.  He gasped.

“I know Leo I know”,  But I don’t get any of what you write okay?” 

The stars swivelled and wriggled. It seemed against some taunting force which was pinning them back in the iridescent black canvas.

“And I had just been nodding at your poems. Some were good but later iuwhyt became confusing. ” He imitated nodding up and down as if in affirmation.  He continued “And I am a damn engineer. Bring fortune to my life instead. whatever you all write; poetry and all they are just about things..” They came around and stopped. Triumphing at their victory?  Leo looked above. And they suddenly..

..Things Tarun hesitated but continued “yeah things. Some things are bound to be imagery. Shall they be true? We pass both good and bad times as if it’s nothing.” 

Conjured into one beam and thrashed before him. Towards him. the stars reformed themselves out of the beam and collected around him into little pointed shapes as imagination followed. Leo squinted at the yellow and black spots forming around him.

And now I wonder if you have written a poem on a tree. How would that be? A Lonely tree, a lonely person? Do you ever write anything sensible? Just speak it out clearly, why do you bring light and night into our life?”

“ Did you have a bad day at work?”, Leo mustered it out pulling himself out from the inexplicable confusion. For a moment they refused to draw away from his sight. But the lights and everything which encompassed him soon dwelled back into the  normal.

Tarun shook off. “ Just be… rational. Some poems like the one you wrote about humanity and connection. Ah! Don’t be nonsensical.” 

“ Sometimes, nonsensical works better after an overdose of rationalism..” Leo said, peering at him. 

“ I… whatever Tarun scoffed

“Yes, only a small share of people understand what we write.. More precisely what we want to convey. But poems…  poems are mystical They are the” 

Leo folded a paper and sheepishly said his poetry.

‘Deep truths conveyed

In Simple verses, lines.

The art lies in pursuance,

The vast expression  

In concise.

How much running away?

‘Art is inconsequential’

How much it is ‘obscure’?

How much? But nonetheless.

Even a mother knows it well.

Its child shall reveal herself. ‘

“ How much will you run away Tarun”, Leo challenged him. 

Tarun stared at him after listening to his poetry.

“ Then maybe I am too bad in life. Where is the connection, Leo?”

In silence, no one approached each other. They didn’t dare another line. They both stood at the terrace for some time. 

And for the first time, Leo looked at his hands remorsefully and then at his diary. He turned his diary pages waiting. Throwing his cigar down he went off inside and came back later with jingling keys grinning

“ Let us go somewhere”

“ Right now?”

“Not a bike.” Leo ignored his question as if he were being too silly. “ Let us take the car. At least you would be able to enjoy the view of nature . How about the maggi stall near Lansdowne?”

Tarun looked at him stupefied.

“NEAR WHAT? LANSDOWNE? That is TOO FAR A TRIP. but maybe i just need one… We ill take  a bike”

 Leo shrugged and grinned “Sometimes breaks are inevitable”

Maybe they are.


Before the passing of the time, 

Can we take a pause from this regime

Of chaos of work and deadlines dreary,

The unlived life – a reality weary

Will you join now not some time?

Into this new advent.

To live, not simply exist

Perhaps a break is the quench







It was supposdely lengthy. (mean we had opposing views so we literally had to play an e-version of stone paper scissors )

Anyhow don’t hesitate to write your views/reviews in the comments section!😃. You can follow up the series at your conveinance.





” Advices or Vices?”

See the source image

Whispers which I did hear partial,

But sometimes,  hushes in  the ear, advices  pouring in,

Tied in gentle slews of verses, too experienced, too earful.

That at times it becomes an effort to distinguish the true.


And the effort so strenuous that I give up listening, fearful.

Some advices look well off and hence I rework endlessly for the output.

I try try and make a checklist to look upto,

In my mind, again too fearful to conflict to.


Years from this all, and you would feel me some relieved.

I finally achieved the goal I had made a mind to ‘achieve’,

And still dismayed because  there seems some glitch   years from now,

Some advice  became vices, a haunting part of me now.


I see the people now moving on to give advices to little hoods,

If only I had cared for myself while heeding in my youthful.

Fulfilment is just more than we can be advised of.

And hence I think again  will advices become haunting vices some time from now?  

If only we can ask the question now…



Check out our previous post here

Night as I see,

Image source: http://mediad.publicbroadcasting.net/p/michigan/files/styles/medium/public/201207/floridacitydark.jpg

Today I would like to pen down on ‘night’

 And Everyone discovers with their own leap.

 Night is just spew of black downright

 Not the slight blue, or that tincture of green just black to seep.


I gazed at the sky in my gloomy reign.

So much so that the stars belied their own self beauty.

And remained hiding in blackness until I succumbed as well… clean.

Very Pretty..( petty)


 I Despaired over the past few weeks

 I Despaired  the known people walking with a glance to my state.

Not knowing I needed someone yet reluctant to turn a help for me.

So much so was my depravity ‘s weight.

And then..no  now I am alright, you see.

At those moments it felt impossible to take another leap.

But Something did upturn my belief (something or someone always does)

And there is a point to this, whatever that may have been.


Now, I look at the sky from this caress and comfort.

At the same murkiness, which had earlier left me to my discomfort.

I can only reason the moisture laden clouds for shading the twinkles..

Looking at the nightly sky with a resounding purpose…

Written by: Kunjal.G



Image source: https://i.ytimg.com/vi/RQsEN78fbSE/hqdefault.jpg

A rumbling in the bush, I think I saw a shadow

Creeping closer was it an ambush? But no it was a meadow.

A land full of greenery, Flowers and birds flirting away,

An idyllic scene it was- the rules of pessimism  broken away.

It takes all my worries, my sorrow, my despair away.

And suddenly goes aloof! as I wake up to a stare at a wholesome grey 

Grey, dark grey , ringing in my head- It always happens. ALWAYS.

Ending with a sigh of a ‘next time’ No, I  can’t let it continue this way

Everyone tells me what is right, and it is distasteful if I become me!

But not today, not today at least ! and I will change  for everyone to  see!

The meadow won’t just be a pitiful illusion , I can make it my own life

This hope and want will narrate my screams, and finally will I  thrive

Why let someone define my dreams, why declare cynics ‘ Oh lead the way’

Because now I know that in the end, It’s how you lived  life that’ll stay

Ah! This meadow opened something inside

The fire, the turmoil!- and now I won’t be confined 

After giving this test of steel and fire, I am learning to refine 

The door was always wide open, It was I who didn’t see.

‘That life is not just what it is, it’s how it was meant to stay.’

We have to see the way….

WRITTEN BY: Khushi Mahajan


No other but a mother this time..

The petite brown face.

Lying horrifyingly mute , pale white sheets.

The thin strands of brown sticking out

Shouting pleading,

For they became devoid of,

Of The moist feminine feel

The face sometimes  beautiful and gleamed.

But all its beauty

And purity, for the sake! Blurred-

Under the dirtied touches and hand forth marks

 Of the ruthless,


The first instinct was shame.

All of this was better to hide than to speak of.

Better to speak otherwise, than accept it open.

The pride of family

The most important of all.

The next came up slowly-

Anger, loads of it.

What was she thinking of?

Strolling about long in the dark?

And last was guilt- immense guilt.

To have let her away, away from the guard,

Because she was after all,

A marionette with arms.

strengthless and spreading out.

Only and only on command.

And lastly.

The wee irrevocable drops of water,

Came out,  a mother this time.

Rape cases during the pandemic time have increased tremendously. In fact they never stopped. It is high time, that we, actually voice against the social bounds. Step up and accept feminism- a fight and a solution to relieve many women who have already succumbed to the wrong without a cry. You know what it is. Restrictions taboos and the everlasting crimes. Feminism must be supported by the male members of the society. Approaches can be different yet implying one is thoughtful . Not weak..thoughtful. it doesn’t make us bigger than you either, as cited by some feminists. It just.. makes us equal. It can..

“A mother with tears of melancholy…”

Please express your thoughts below. What do you feel about it?

~ Kunjal Gupta


The Training..

Illustrated By Khushi. M and Kunjal.G

I will feel afraid, yes, stepping into the new, knowing that they won’t be there to caress my head all the time if I stumble and grapple to stand uptight, as I take the step. But deep down I realise that I need to detach to learn and live. It will be a testimony. That is the hardest part, and well that is the absolute training...


Oh! That time had arrived, 

When my frame was not so little like a child

To fit snugly into the closure of the warmth,

And be the one safe and unharmed.

Fear though precepted in the blue eyes.

Which widened like an innocent child

Thus, closed my eyes beavered,

With your final glimpse, I took my momentum

And pushed myself into the unknown blue.

Unconscious of what I will end up

I was drowning, and I remembered

The last time you hugged me

 Some  moments ago.

I shrieked the words badly,

To be in your warmth again,

I grieved harshly to be,in this cold.

I couldn’t though continue the feat,

For dangerous water had filled up my mouth

 So, I closed it to control and breathe,

Just as you had told me,

And from that moment it became clear

That the training had begun.

And I couldn’t retrace my path

To the first time I took the plunge..

~Written by Kunjal Gupta.


all opinions even contradicting are welcome😊

The Disillusionment..

By Khushi.M

The Disillusionment.

Deaths and buildings

Buildings picketed with crowds of people

Where had the colours of our life gone?

Just faded into an uninspiring grey?

People were dying, cries of a mother a brother a son

All round up to once in a decade reality

And then they come up the podium

My looked up to idols,

With an affirmation to the wrongs and mistakes,

And encroaching confidence to do alright.

With a plead to rely on their teams and leader,

And all the mistakes have had happened

But this time a firmness to pave a rationale forward.

The other elected lot  seated opposite,

Had finally got it not to sought petty  blaming,

Suddenly it all seemed very powerful,

Because the choice we had made had,

Had finally given its testimony.

I envisaged this in a possible  crisis,

 And sorry because now it has actually arrived

And now it all seems ridiculously illusionary,

And perhaps during confabulations,

A light joke to muse upon.  

Just a  light joke to muse upon..

By Kunjal.G

~ illustrated by Duo Disseminators

Hey guys sorry we had come with a late post. But please do offer your opinions, suggestions and like if you like the post!. We would be happy to hear your thoughts. (The poem is written from a child ‘s perspective.)