SBS-Mag-July-Edition-2025-26

1. R e f l e c t R e n e w R i s e S B S M a g J u l y E d i t i o n

2. WHAT'S I SIDE N Poems By: 1.Ananya Bhargava 2.Shloka Dorwal 3.Tanish Dhawan 4.Rajvir Baweja 5.Aamayra Caprihan 6.Simran Ahuja 7.Sharanya Garg 8.By Varchasvi Vishal Bakshi 9.Seher Singh 10.Ahaan Sondhi 11.Yuvaan Barman 12.Kabir Gautam Articles By: 1.Esha Nayak 2.Arav Jain 3.Gaurita Nayak 4.Ahaana Jolly 5.Varenya Gupta 6.Krishaa Goel 7.Varchasvi Vishal Bakshi 8.Raghav Rajorira 9.Ashmita Jain 10.Yuvaan Barman Illustrations by: 1.Shloka Dorwal 2.Samar Singh 01

3. The Space Between B y E s h a n a y a k Life is stitched together by a series of endings and beginnings, each one quietly shaping who we become. Some come with fanfare—the final bell of the school year, the first day in a new city. Others slip by unnoticed, like the last time we sat at the dinner table as children, or the first time we looked at someone and felt time slow. Endings often feel like loss. They sting. Goodbyes leave echoes, and change can feel like the undoing of something familiar. But if we look closely, most endings carry the seed of something new. The pain of farewell teaches us to value presence. The closing of a door draws our attention to others we hadn’t seen. Beginnings, too, are uncertain. They come wrapped in questions: Will I belong here? Am I ready? But beginnings are also invitations—to grow, to explore, to redefine ourselves. Every blank page holds a promise. Every sunrise dares us to begin again. The space between an ending and a beginning can feel like a breath held too long, full of tension and possibility. Yet, it’s here, in this quiet in-between, that transformation occurs. We’re no longer who we were, not yet who we’ll become. It’s not just the end or the start that matters—but how we carry ourselves through the space between. 02

4. Partly Cloudy B y A n a n y a B h a r g a v a They only love me when I smile, All light, happy, and divine. But they don’t ever seem to see The terrible storms that live in me. I mustn’t lose control, I say, Don’t cry in front of them–look okay. Or else they’ll hate me even more Than they do on cloudy days before. I weep until the world is drenched, Yet still, my thirst is never quenched. For in their eyes, no matter what, I’m just a beast—lies stacked on rot. I’m burdened with what I can’t bear, This pain I'm so desperate to share. But who would want a clouded sky That keeps the children trapped inside For I am just a heavy cloud Whose voice was broken, not allowed— Silenced before it could be loud 03

5. AI: A Catalyst for Progress B y A r a v J a i n “A future shaped by AI is not a threat, but a promise of limitless innovation.” Every algorithm in artificial intelligence is an architect of tomorrow. A tomorrow painted with the brush of progress colouring a world where dreams are boundless. AI is a waterfall. Menacing, frightening and intimidating initially, but a mesmerizing force of beauty within. Yet, some advocate for stricter global regulations on AI wrapping it in red tape and setting fire to its potential. However, this would just stifle the job market, limit growth despite addressing its ethical concerns. Firstly, exasperation runs through my veins when articles bounce off the internet and buzz through my ears claiming that AI will displace jobs. Undeniably, AI will replace positions such as drivers, domestic workers and surgeons in the coming years. Nonetheless, it will also create opportunities for robotic engineers, data scientists, AI ethicists and more. The World Economic Forum reported in 2020 that AI would eliminate 85 million jobs by 2025, but it would have simultaneously generated 97 million new ones globally. As inquired by Byron Reese, in his book The Fourth Age, can we truly believe that we are blind machines, destined to be replaced by versions of ourselves? Can AI truly possess all human qualities, including creativity, empathy and bonding? Will machines surpass human potential in every aspect such as cost-effectiveness? These unconsciously made assumptions are riddled with gaping holes. In my opinion, jobs with non-periodic motion, escalated interactions and numerous exceptions will never be violated as these are a tough nut to crack for technology because they don’t follow a specified system. Beyond employment, AI has the power to revolutionize industries. Visualise a planet where fatal accidents become a whisper of the past. Truly, Waymo’s self-driving cars reduce human error, making transportation prudent. Similarly, advanced robots like the da Vinci Surgical System increase precision in invasive surgeries. Shouldn’t we embrace the technology that holds back the fading breath of a mother? Shouldn’t we erase the rivers on a daughter’s cheeks powerless against time? Additionally, by forecasting market trends, AI has the exceptional capability to place financial growth at individuals’ fingertips. All in all, AI is not merely technology; it is salvation if we focus on its light instead of getting distracted by its shadow. 04

6. Moreover, advancement has never thrived under restrictions. AI must evolve, not be caged. History narrates that humans didn’t halt computers, electricity or the internet. Then why shackle AI? The right approach to AI is adaptation as breakthroughs come from pushing boundaries, not fearing them. New challenges, risks and dangers emerge but we must remain flexible to deal with them; else we will just put a humongous dead end on ourselves. Even the first law of a robot asserts that a robot shall not harm a human, or by inaction allow a human to come to harm. Some believe that AI models can inherit biases leading to unfair conclusions, solution lies in responsible development. from training data, the but Representative datasets and AI-driven tools are already mitigating bias, misinformation, and deepfakes. For instance, ZeroGPT is a tool designed to detect AI-generated text proving that AI itself can be used to ensure accountability. In conclusion, instead of imposing rigid restrictions, a balanced promotes responsible fostering innovation is essential. Do we want to move towards enhancement of human capabilities or be held hostage by our own fears? AI is a tool. A helper. Neither a bullet. Nor a betrayer. approach growth that while progress and 05

7. Beginnings and Ends B y S h l o k a D o r w a l What is a beginning, but an end, Of the period before it? What is an end, but a beginning, Of what is to come? What is a new bond, but an ending, Of a past unaccompanied? What is a broken one, but a beginning, Of a (freer?) future untold? What’s in a name? a question pondered. A label? A meaning? A value? But I’ll say it’s the beginning of an identity And the ending of namelessness. So the cat and mouse chase each other again, Between the chicken and the egg, we can’t differ. The snake swallows its own tail again, As the mind runs along the infinity circuit. 06

8. A B E G I N N I N G O R A N E N D I N G ? B Y S H L O K A D O R W A L D E P E N D S O N H O W Y O U S E E I T . 07

9. Endings That Begin Again B y g a u r i t a n a y a k Every ending carries its own weight. Each one leaves behind a trail of moments that speak louder than the final score. The basketball court becomes a canvas for emotion, effort, and resilience. Sometimes it ends in victory, and other times in defeat. A sting of loss can feel like the world pressing down, leaving us confused, uncertain, and searching for answers. But even in those moments, a new match will come, just like the sunrise after the longest night. With each new dawn, we get the chance to correct our mistakes and rise brighter and more focused, like the sun breaking through the clouds. A loss is not the end; it is a beginning in disguise. Beginnings give us the chance to start fresh. With renewed passion and determination, we step onto the court ready to rewrite the story. Each missed shot, each turnover, and each fall teaches us not just what went wrong but what we are capable of overcoming. The painful past does not define our limits; it reveals our strength. It reminds us of what we have sustained and what we are preparing to conquer. Every ending is a chance to recover and turn the page. So even when the scoreboard is not in our favor, I remind myself that every ending is a chance to rise from the ashes. What may feel like the end is often just the start of something greater. If we hold faith in ourselves and trust in our effort, we can achieve things we never thought possible. Endings do not break us but they shape us. And beginnings are a chance to shine, ever brighter, just like the sun that never fails to rise 08

10. The Hammock’s Embrace b y T a n i s h D h a w a n The hammock Swaying left and right, A breeze, a chill. Nature encircling one, Greeting the visitor. Oh how the hammock swings, Providing solace at times of need. Each part of nature, Announcing about the visitor. The drowsy feel, Waiting to be accepted and neglected no more. The hammock holding one with warm hands, Like a mother with her baby. What is this feeling, One ponders. For this is an ordinary hammock, Nothing more. Or is it, Why do I feel so impetuous when not by its side. A tear rolls down my cheek, Attempting to get my answer. But no, An answer neglected. Now I know, How the hammock feels. 09

11. The Last Night B y A h a a n a J o l l y Endings and beginnings. So many things end and begin in this world. A race. A movie. A year. Time. And even life. 13 year old Julie had to learn that the hard way. It was a normal morning for Julie. She awoke to the sound of her dog pawing at her door. She unlocks it and lets her dog in. He jumps onto her bed and whines. “Did dad forget to feed you, Bee?” She smiles at her dog. His golden fur like honey in the morning sun. Julie checks the time. “It’s 11 am!?” “Why did dad not wake me up?” She sighs and goes out of her room. It's eerily quiet. She opens the cabinet and feeds Bee. She climbed the stairs to her dad’s room. It’s a hot day, sweat pools on her neck as a result. She knocks on her dad’s door. “Dad?” The door slightly opens. She walks in, he’s not there. She looks in his bathroom, in his office, in the guest room, backyard, everywhere. He’s not in the house. She panics and runs out, it's eerily quiet out here too. She peeks through windows. Cars are in the driveway but nobody is home. She knocks on every door. No answer. Panic rises in her chest. Where is everyone? She ties Bee inside the house and grabs her cycle, cycling away into the day. She reaches the supermarket. Nobody there. She checks the park, school, apartments, etc. Everyone is gone. Everyone. Is. Gone. Realisation hits her like a bus. She’s all alone. She decides to go out of town and checks there. Nobody at the toll booth, nobody in the highway shops. She sits down on the ground and cries. Her mind is racing, where is everyone? Suddenly she feels a pit in her stomach. What if she is all alone. What if there is nobody else in the world? She has to find a way to reach out, and she knows how to. She runs and climbs back onto the bike, pedaling away to her house. When she reaches her house, she first unties Bee and proceeds to open her computer, her fingers rush as she clicks onto the homescreen of her text app. This app helped her make friends with people from outside of her vicinity. 10

12. Her fingers fly, “Anyone out there?” she sends a text to everyone she had added. She waited for the response and made herself some cup-o- noodles. She waits and waits and waits, it was 8 pm in Australia, 11 am in London, and 6 am in the USA. She calculated, double checked. Her friends should be up, they always check their messages at these times. Reality hit her, she WAS all alone. Last person on Earth. She had seen hypothetical youtube videos on this, and knew what was next, what awaited her. Nuclear power plants would shut, so would electrical towers, nobody left to operate them. Some animals would escape the zoo and run free out on the street. Endings and beginnings. One day a nuclear power plant was made, and in a few days it would end, as there was nobody to power it. One day people installed electric towers, and in a few days even they would stop working. Zoos were made and animals were delivered, now that would come to and end too. They all would escape. Endings and beginnings. And Julie knew for a fact, her life could end too. 11

13. Waitto Freedom B y R a j v i r B a w e j a Day by day, Year by year, Freedom from this prison, is all I yearn. Fling the gates open, that imprison me. For all I want, is to be free. Sitting in this in-capacious room, Contemplating on this captivity. Gets me enervated, and suppresses my dreams. For the life we're living, Is of a caged bird in despair. Desiring to one day, Be set free. Albeit, all we do is, wait.... and wait.... and wait for that one day to be free... 12

14. The Last Ember B y V a r e n y a G u p t a When the fire died, she did not move. It was not the cold that held her still, but the weight of everything that had already gone silent. The last ember curled into itself like a secret she once whispered into the chest of someone who promised to stay. It glowed faintly—hopeful, stubborn—before surrendering to ash. The silence that followed was not empty. It pressed in like a presence, the way grief sometimes settles: not loud, not dramatic, just there. It filled the air like breath used to, back when the house still remembered the sound of her mother’s humming, or the way her father would sigh just before speaking—soft, weary, trying. Outside, morning waited. Not with urgency. It never needed to rush. She had once loved mornings, back when she would run barefoot to the kitchen for pancakes and light. Before the police lights, before the social worker with the kind voice and the clipboard. Before everything fractured like a plate dropped on tile. Now, she sat in the half-light of what had ended, fingers resting on the torn spine of a book no one would finish. The story inside had been theirs once—hers and her brother’s—before his silence grew longer than his sentences, before he stopped reading and started retreating. Behind her, the walls held echoes: laughter thrown like sparks, fights that shook the floorboards. One argument in particular, still rang loudest—the one before he left and never called again. But now, those echoes were just shadows. Stretched. Hollow. Fading. Somewhere beyond the crumbling porch, a bird sang. It was not a song, not really—it was more like a punctuation mark. A statement. This is not the end. Just a transformation. 13

15. She stood—not with certainty, but with something quieter. A recognition, maybe. That there are wounds that never quite close, but still, you learn to live around them. That not every beginning starts with a sunrise—some start in the dark, after everything else has burned away. The ash would cool. The floorboards might rot. The rooms that once held stories would either collapse or be cleared. But she was still here, holding their outlines. The absence of what was would shape whatever came next. She stepped over the threshold—not to erase the past, but to carry it differently. To leave behind the ruins without leaving behind the lessons. Her steps were uncertain, but they were hers. And maybe that was the beginning. Because every new chapter borrows weight from the last. And every scar is a door—unlocked not by forgetting, but by forgiving. And somewhere inside her, a single ember sparked again. 14

16. To come home B y A a m a y r a C a p r i h a n When she entered the park the wind began to blow at her hair ever so gently. A spindly tree whose branches curled around each other; in love it seemed. A small sapling, sprouting from a crack in the grey concrete pavement, its leaves speckled with dew. She sat in a shed with a powder blue roof dotted with tweed orange flowers and jade grass. She brought out her journal and began to sing. A sparrow peered over the girl's shoulder, curious. The pages fluttered softly as if listening to her every word. Her pen stood and began to write, pausing occasionally to correct mistakes. A tall pine had grown proud over many years and behind it the sun began to set, turning the sky ombre. It was time to come home. 15

17. A circle thatnever ends b y K r i s h a a G o e l Endings and beginnings- two words that seem like. opposites, yet they are more bangled up than we think. We are told that stories end and new ones. begin. We mark the end of the year and toast to a fresh one. We mourn departures and celebrate. arrivals. But what if there is no real distinction? What if endings are illusions - pauses, maybe - and beginninings are simply the next step in the same breath? Consider that way a sunset ends a day. The sun disapears, but it hasn't really gone. It's just showing up elsewhere, begining something new for someone else. Death, boo, is called an ending, yet in many beliefs, it is also a beginning begining- a crossing, a transformation, or a return. Even a heartbreak, though sharp and unforgiving, often Leaves behind the first quiet seeds of rediscovery. So, are we ever truly ending anything, or are we just slipping into the next form of experience? Of course, not all beginings feel hopeful, and not all endings feel complete. Somethings trail off without conclusion. Some begin without permission. A war doesn't end with permission peace; sometimes it ends with silence, with rubble, with scars that keep whispering. A love doesn't always begin. with fireworks-it might stumble in like a strangers asking for directions. We like tight bidy definitions, but Life rarely offers them. Some times, the hardest part is realising that beginnings often hide inside endings. That last word of a sentence is the first silence before the next. The moment we lose something is the same moment space opens for something else not necessarily better, not necessarily better, not necesarily worse, but different. A door doesn't only closes - it also blocks the wind, keeps you warm, makes you notice the walls. Maybe thats the Lesson: to stop demanding clean lines. To Let endings ache and Let beginnings come in messy. To sit in the in- between, in the uncertainty. To see Life not as chapters, but as flowing ink where stories overlap and bleed. So no, this may not comply with the usual way of speaking about ending and beginnings." But perhaps that's the point: they don't comply either. They blend, they resist definition, and yet they shape everything. 16

18. The blood that drivesme b ys i m r a n a h u j a The house where you have to hold fear before doing anything Because you never know what might be the consequence it brings The house where you have to tip toe as the tension screams from across the room with the distance of 5 feet because they always have their eyes on you The house where you are a property held by your parents until you turn 18 and go off to college to be set free The house where loneliness thrives the most The house where I am haunted by own ghost The house where I have to wrap my hands on my mouth before crying because crying is considered weak The house where the most powerful one on the dinner table gets the center seat The house where endless nights I go without any sleep because this house with 4 rooms, 2 parents and 16 walls keeps me up every night with shivering anxiety The lines on my palms follow the ones on my mother’s The blood in my veins flows like hers, intertwined with one another The boldness of my words are streamed from the sharpness of my father’s The pain that my voice follows is my own as I cover it up with laughter The blood that drives me is not one to be commonly found It’s the one where everything in the name of love and fairness burns to ground 17

19. The blood that drives me isn’t just a fire it’s a spark in my eyes or a burning in my chest Its pressed and pressed to see how much I can take till my tear finally dropped and heart finally bled The blood that drives me isn’t in the name of love Love is just an excuse behind it They scream and shout, using love as an excuse for what they’ve hurt The blood that drives me to be like who I am is something I wish to never pass on It’s the burning of the chest, the fire in the eyes, and the sharpness of the words that cut so deep The tears never stop It’s not something I got on my own I’m just another version of them, someone I hoped I’d never become, became a part of my soul My dark sides are something I wish remained unknown but I realize what creates my dark sides are my parent’s blood and bone This blood, these veins, the lines on my palm that I share Are just a mark This blood that drives me, destroys me As every day I tear apart. 18

20. The eclipse of wajood B y V a r c h a s v i V i s h a l B a k s h i Your paragraph text This is something I wrote while being in Jaipur, India, and the breathtaking scene of the pink city right in front of my eyes: I saw the sun rise, while the moon was hanging in the sky. The moon’s territory was light blue, and the attacking sun’s territory was orange. At the end of the armies stood the great heads, a circular sun and the crescent moon. But it wasn’t war, it was love. As if both beings were merging into each other, enjoying this new colour of the other on their face. The moon knew that as time passes, the sun will overtake it, and the moon will disappear. But the moon doesn’t mind. Neither it did, nor will it ever. The moon rules the mighty sky in the pitch dark of the night, and when the birds announce the welcome of the sun, the moon goes away, giving the sun all the space it needs. The moon admires the sun from far away. God as well is aware of the love between the sun and the moon; hence he created the solar eclipse every year, just for the two lovers to meet. Well, only after waking up in the morning just to see this relation of the majestic sun and moon, I realized that the sun is the reason for moon’s existence, and the moon would have drowned in the darkness if it weren’t for the sun. The sun gives meaning to the moon. Sometimes, life is all about finding your meaning, your wajood. 19

21. momster B y s h a r a n y a g a r g Save me, save me - Momster’s near! She gives me kisses and says, “You’re so dear!” I run away when Momster starts to say, “You look so tasty and sweet, The yummiest child I’ll ever eat” Momster stomps and makes monstery sounds, With tickle attacks and leaps and bounds. Momster hides behind the doors and then jumps with a roar, She says, “I smell a snack I adore!” But even when Momster makes me hide and flee, She is my mom and I love her endlessly. 20

22. Ending is the new beginning B y R a g h a v R a j o r i a Life is full of changes. Some chapters close, and new ones begin. We finish a school year, bid farewell to familiar faces, and step into a new class with new hopes. These changes often bring a mix of emotions—excitement, nervousness, joy, and sometimes even a little sadness. But change is a natural and important part of growing up. Endings can be difficult. We may miss our old classroom, our favourite teacher, or the laughter shared with close friends. But endings also give us a chance to pause and reflect. They remind us of how far we’ve come, the lessons we’ve learned, and the memories that will stay with us. New beginnings are like fresh pages in a notebook—clean, full of promise, and waiting to be filled. A new grade means new adventures: different teachers, new friends, and opportunities to try new things. It’s normal to feel unsure at first. Questions like “Will I fit in?” or “Will I do well?” are common—but with time, courage, and curiosity, new beginnings can become the best part of the journey. Just like a tree sheds its old leaves to grow fresh ones, we too grow with every change. Each ending helps us grow stronger, and each beginning helps us discover something new about ourselves. So, the next time you come to an ending, don’t be afraid. Think of it as the start of something wonderful. Life is like a story— and every ending is just a page turning to a brand-new chapter. Let’s celebrate both the endings and the beginnings, because both help us grow. “Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened.” — Dr. Seuss 21

23. tHE NIGHT LURE B y V a r c h a s v i V i s h a l B a k s h i I sat one night, looking at the ocean with my thoughts overlapping like its tides staring at the canopy of stars, as they glide The Midnight Moon hanging high with all its pride Like a damsel looking at her valiant childe Moon shines at the ocean, And blushes with grace, then pulls a cloud to hide her face Ocean roars in a warriors’ fashion Like a lover with all its passion Like a blazing fire it gets higher and higher To fulfill its eternal desire To touch the moon, with its sky-high tide to embrace her with its galloping stride Moon responds with all its might covering the ocean with its doting silver light Ready to shed all its pride Praying for a mere chance to be ocean’s bride Oh God! I wish to weigh the love thou have in thy heart That your hands pour in thy every art But in solitude I must confide why thou created this divide? which these night lovers forever, and ever, and ever are forced to abide. 22

24. An Ending for You, A Beginning for Something New: Eternal Essence of Nature B y V a r c h a s v i V i s h a l B a k s h i I believe nature is the fons-et-origo – the source and origin -- of everything that exists today. And what has created us, indeed has the power to destroy us.When we speak of endings in the context of climate change, people usually pity nature, as though it is weak and fading. But that, to me, is a grave misconception, for nature holds the unwavering power to rebuild itself. It is us, humans who are self- destructing. Similar to when dinosaurs went extinct, it was the end of the world for them; not for nature. Nature regenerated itself, and gave existence to millions of species afterwards, one of which were, humans. Speaking of humans, the species known to be the most intelligent of all -- we believe that we have explored so much of nature, we take pride in our achievements. However, this is when the ‘Dunning Kruger’ effect comes into play; the more we know, the more we reveal the vastness of what remains unknown. Nature is the cornucopia of mysteries and fascinations. Now, I meticulously did not use the seemingly perfect word for this context, ‘plethora’, as opposing to its definition, nature keeps adding on its diversity. Nature is dynamic. The moment you think you’ve reached its edge, it stretches further, revealing the horizon illusion. By the time you think you have explored everything, nature would have already produced another millions of species, which would take another thousands of years to uncover by the human mind, but till then, amusingly, you will already be dead, being used as manure to rebuild nature – an ending for you, and a beginning for something new. 21 23

25. COMING OUT OF JUNIOR SCHOOL B y s h a r a n y a g a r g Coming out of junior school, I got such a shock; Our new school uniform Looks kinda like a frock. Coming out of junior school, I dreamt of fun and dance; But middle school gave us No games, not a prance. Coming out of junior school, I dreamt of paints and glitter glue; But now all I get to hear is - “Sharanya your homework’s due.” Coming out of junior school, I thought we’ll do jungle gym in free play; But all we get is study time, That lasts nearly the whole day Coming out of junior school, I thought I now rule the world; But now I am lost in new subjects That are getting unfurled. Coming out of junior school, I dreamt of getting many golden stars; But now all I think is dispersal is so far. So coming out of junior school didn’t turn out to be the dream I had planned; But hey, at least now I’ve got a PhD In “pretending I understand.” 24

26. The Beginning of The End B y a s h m i t a j a i n The Cambridge Dictionary defines an ending as “the last part of a process, especially the way in which something stops existing.” In contrast, it defines a beginning as “the first part of something or the start of something.” At first glance, these are complete opposites, counterparts really. One suggests the closing of a chapter while the other talks about the start of something new. But on further reflection, you’ll see that they are deeply intertwined and in fact coexist. Every beginning marks the end of a period, and every end marks the beginning of a new one. Without each other, they have no meaning. They don’t just follow each other, they define each other. “And they lived happily ever after” “I got off the plane” "You jump, I jump, right?" “I guess I’ll see you in the movies.” Some tragic, some hopeful, some ominous, but all lead to one thing: an ending. An ending to a great life, or to a great relationship, or just a great experience. Endings are scary, they make us realise the finality of a situation, and open the door to a million daunting possibilities in our lives. They bring uncertainty, and the terror of navigating a new terrain, but at the same time they bring a thrill and the promise of adventure for the next big thing. I think at their core, endings are a mystery. You never really know what to expect. You may have just walked away from the best thing that ever happened to you, and will regret it every day of your life, or you may have finally let go of something that caused an insurmountable pain and suffering. I don't think you can ever fully know if it's the end, there are always more strings, more loose ends. There’s always something else waiting, something that paves a new path, a beginning. 25

27. A new day, a new hope, a new opening. The chance to reinvent yourself and to be a different person. That's what a beginning brings. Beginnings can be very weird. Sometimes they’re exciting, like starting a new job or moving to a new place. Other times they are terrifying, like starting a new job or moving to a new place. They can feel awkward and unfamiliar. You never know what you’re walking into. It was always lights out and then suddenly somewhere a bulb lit up. And you don’t know whether to follow it or just look away and wait for other lights. That’s the thing about beginnings, they don't come with a manual and instructions, it’s all about figuring it along the way. They do however come with opportunity and potential, the potential to turn it into the best thing you could wish for. And sometimes, a beginning is just the beginning of the end. So even though endings and beginnings literally mean the exact opposite, you’ll find that they overlap more often than not. Both can make your heart leap. Both can crush you in moments. Both can bring newfound joy and hope. And both have the power to completely change your life. Whether you’re completing the puzzle or just starting a new one, you’re still always at the edge of something new. “What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from.” T.S. Eliot 26

28. melody b ys e h e rs i n g h I believe a person’s truest companion is music It lingers in solitude and celebrates in joy, echoing emotions too complex for words alone. Music becomes the silent witness to our inner worlds, a mirror that reflects our hidden thoughts, our quiet grief, and our untamed hope. In its vastness, Music educates us to find pieces of ourselves within It reveals the contours of our identity, There is a melody for every mood — a composition for heartbreak, a harmony for healing, an anthem for triumph, and a lullaby for peace. Music does not judge the moment; it simply accompanies it — offering presence, not answers. And that is what makes it a rare kind of friend — one that does not demand, but understands. Ever-evolving yet timeless, music is the constant in a world that seldom stays still. 27

29. Spotlights Follow Wherever You Go b yy u v a a n b a r m a n Spotlights follow wherever you go. Sometimes you want to leave them behind. We see them as grumpy stars, Always scrutinizing from afar. Being in the spotlight isn’t always bad. It brings fame, A universal desire everybody wishes they had. It makes you an Inspiration for the world, You can set the world aflame. But beware fame also brings a closer spotlight, Which means more critics and more fights. You strive to handle the glare so bright, For your passion and purpose are your guiding lights. Embracing the spotlight, with all its might, Brings forth both darkness and light. In the end, it's all about staying true, No matter what, is the spotlight's hue. 28

30. darth vader artwork b ys a m a rs i n g h 29

31. The end isjustthe beginning B y A h a a n S o n d h i The pitch is full of the morning dew, and all the fans want something new. The birds around begin to sing, all that’s left is the victory to bring. The match begins, your hopes are high, you’re praying to the people who live in the sky. The opponents score, and it’s pride galore. The final minutes are left to be played, the ball comes to you, its hue is marmalade. You think "why not?"and take a shot, it flies in the goal and the opponents begin moan. You realise the end is just the beginning, with you and your teammates grinning. 30

32. endings and beginnings b y k a b i r g a u t a m Life has one big message to send Whatever has a beginning has also an end When a learning session ends, next one takes place Learning thus goes ahead, pace by pace The day has a bright beginning at the dawn But at the setting time it has to drown After the end a new beginning is sure Next day the Sun rises, fresh, bright and pure The Moon goes on rising till it is fully bright But there comes a stage when it's a moonless night Ending cannot happen if beginning was not there In case nothing is ending beginning will be where God has created this permanent trend That all things good or bad must have an end Wisdom will lie in accepting all endings And moving ahead happily to make new beginnings! 31

33. The Burdenof Loss b yy u v a a n b a r m a n The weight of loss upon my chest, A heavy burden gives no moment of rest. In the quiet hours of the night, I twist and turn with the absence of a happy light. Memories swirl, a bittersweet tide, Sad emotions burn and flow, giving no place to hide. The feeling of losing is a constant ache, A part of me was taken, Had no choice to make. Yet through the pain, I find my way, To honor the win that couldn't stay. Though the emptiness may never fade, I carry on, not broken nor afraid. For in the depths of sorrow's embrace, I discover strength, a newfound grace. The feeling of losing, though sharp and leaves a mark, Guides me forward through the endless dark. 32

34. Designed and Edited by Esha Nayak Mugdha Dash