Dear Readers,

We’re a few editions out, and so far, so Scribe. As always, our team has been blown away by the sheer talent in the submissions we’ve seen, be it art, photography, or writing. But we’d also like you, our readers to help us out. What would you like to see?  Should we put in some film reviews? Or maybe cover school events? Did you like our alumni piece last edition?

This is, after all, our magazine. We hope you feel the same sense of accomplishment and pride that we feel when you get to hold a copy in your hand. We hope the letters on the front page resonate with you more than ever before, as we release the fourth printed edition. We realized that the thing we love most about Aditi is the sense of closeness, the sense of community we feel. Our ability to know what’s on anyone’s mind, regardless of what age or class they’re in. The Scribe is just an extension of that.

Malini Narayan and Inika Chikarmane


It is dark. Not an overwhelming phantom of emptiness with nothing in sight, but it is dark. A darkness in which everything feels calm, with the softest whispers of the sky entering through my windows. A darkness in which the beat of my heart feels comfortable in my chest, despite the weakness in its rhythm.

The couch, which I would usually deem less embracing than a bed of burning coal, has become the subject of my warmth and serenity. And my mind, which would usually be a quagmire of destructive thoughts this time a day, is without thought. Even if just for a little while.

Today feels different.

My eyes close involuntarily, embracing the comfortable feeling of unfamiliarity. The blanket of air around me is just warm enough. And I feel myself slip into the state between consciousness and unconsciousness.

The clutter of keys and the quiet but noticeable opening of the door do not escape my ears, but seem to leave them unperturbed— with not even the slightest of movement of my body in response.

The hushed whispers of my parents underscore my need to not be woken up. To stay in the very position that seems so very impossible to replicate again. But I still thought, still knew that I would wake up in my own bed. That he would carry me upstairs and everything would be normal again. My mind, however, seems to have gone too deep into the state of relaxation to allow it.

I feel the familiar touch of my mother’s lips on my forehead, and my father’s hand on my cheek. I wait. I wait for his arms to wrap around me, and pick me up.

Instead, I hear the fading sound of footsteps.

I find myself hoping, with a newfound feeling of desperation, to change my state of being I previously thought was unparalleled.

My eyes open and the beat of my heart starts to hurt my chest.

I lay waiting.

Waiting for everything to go back to the way it was. To go back to normal. My heart aches for the feeling of familiarity. The air becomes colder.

My eyes close again, reluctantly. My mind starts to go over the innumerable list of things I would have given to wake up in my bed tomorrow.

– Meghna Gaddam, 11 AICE


They had skin like a marbled sky-

ripples of melanin,

patches of paint.

A fine coating of flecked gold

dotted their limbs.

Resplendent vermillion flakily fell,

Snaking, creeping up the part,

that separated

Ebony tresses,

braided lushly.

Gently swaying down the small of their backs,

unravelling like silk at the hands

of even a stranger.


their reveries in the dazzling desert sun.

A shadow descends.

Their sarees fall.

Their screams –

unheard –

drown in the sand.



Your love for the boy came from the depths of the ocean.

Every star stood out that night –

even Artemis held her moon up high.

Still, you wouldn’t look around,

you wouldn’t, or couldn’t, see

the waves crashing into the lightless beach,

because your heart was set.

Let me tell you a secret, child.

Love like that,

It doesn’t come from Eros’ arrows.

I was born from the ocean foam – so I know that the truest love comes from the ocean.

But now I’m no longer of Cyprus.

This world has hardened me.

(I see you haven’t let it do so to you).

But nothing ever dies as it was born.

So be warned child, you cannot feel for him when the dawn comes.

When the dawn comes, drape yourself in the ocean and sky.

You are ethereal in this world.

To the boy by the beach, you must say goodbye.

Before the ocean,

love begins within.

And if you can love a stranger so much.

Imagine how you could love yourself.



Two years ago, I was consumed with sadness.

This unexplainable, overbearing, outrageously powerful sadness that seemed to mercilessly permeate every facet of my life, leaving me suffocated in a seemingly endless cycle of hopelessness, pain and turmoil. This feeling persisted relentlessly for almost a year before I got access to the suitable resources necessary to constructively and productively battle it.

However, my struggle was still gravely undermined and constantly negated. People around me made significant efforts to rationalize and reason out this sadness, however the conclusion that everyone repeatedly found themselves at was that this feeling I was feeling was something that was strictly under my control. I was told time and time again that a show of strength and resilience was all that was needed to surpass this difficult time and that I wasn’t putting sufficient amounts of effort into bettering my own state of mind. I had accurately and aggressively encapsulated every symptom of depression, yet not a single person who had an intimate insight into my life had the slightest inkling that maybe that is what this was. The lack of awareness and education surrounding mental health is beyond grave, and the implications of this that manifests itself in a dense, layered stigma has catastrophic effects on our society as a whole.

It is almost intrinsic for us to trivialize and dilute what we may be going through by comparing our circumstance and pain to that of others. As someone that did this habitually, I can tell you that this is possibly the biggest injustice you can do yourself. What you feel and are going through is valid and deserves to be dealt with properly, regardless of how miniscule your problems seem on a relative scale or in the eyes of others. Another thing we tend to do is invalidate or diminish our feelings, through instilling this sense of guilt upon ourselves. Most of us are incredibly privileged and live a life free of any sort of deprivation (materialistic, at least) and while this is highly important to acknowledge and appreciate, it does not make you immune to the brunt of human emotion.

Feeling intensely hopeless and sad, despite having nothing tangible in your environment to attribute these feelings to, does not extenuate what you are going through and most definitely doesn’t make what you are feeling ‘wrong’. As cliché as this sounds, bottling things up is excruciatingly toxic. Train and condition yourself to be vulnerable with yourself and explore the intricacies of the detailed spectrum of emotions. Making efforts to embrace and understand the complexity of your own emotion can be immensely daunting but is the ONLY way you will ever be able to start healing. I understand how isolating feelings of sadness can be and how sometimes because they are so unexplainable or seemingly incomprehensible, how lonely they can make you feel. But you are not alone (again, cliché, but true); this is a wholehearted promise I’m making to anyone reading this who is potentially going through a rough time.

Being vulnerable and raw can be scary to no extent, but reach out, speak to someone, anyone you feel safe with, at least for starters. There is absolutely no shame in using external means such as counselling or therapy as a means to cope with the intensity of human emotion. Sometimes things will get complicated, and deciphering the nuances of what you may be going through will need the aid of someone that is able to provide you with neutral, objective and unbiased insight and analysis. Be kind, sensitive and make it a habit to check up on your friends, it’s really not that much of a task. If you see someone struggling don’t let it slip or go unchecked. Speak to them. Remind them of the value that is attached to their mere existence. Remind them of the love and care that people possess for them and urge them to the best of your capability to reach out and get professional help. I hope to god that one day, this stigma around mental illness will cease to exist.

-Tanvi Amba, 12 ISC