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The Feminine Forces of Halloween Imagine a dark hat with a long body, its peak so crooked that it is coiled up, with a purple ribbon at its rim, a head with long dark hair and pale white skin wearing it. The wearer’s eyes glisten with echoes of power. She is the one with a smile so silent that you cannot imagine the screams caused by it. Now, isn’t that how we normally describe witches? Cruel, malicious beings, waiting to feast on our terrors. This is the way that the stories we read, the series we watch, and the plays we act depict witches. But what if I told you we’ve been doing it all wrong? What if the dark-hatted lady simply wears black because it’s her favourite colour, not to symbolise evil? What if the pale skinned entity is simply that way just because she inherited those genes? What if her smiles are so silent because she’s an introvert and does not know how to express her emotions? Let us take a dive into the humane part of witches, and feminism in halloween. To start off easy, let’s talk about Halloween. Wikipedia says... a lot of things which I am unable to write here. But to keep it simple, Halloween is the day when the veil between the worlds of the living and the dead is the weakest. It was believed that on this day, the souls of the dead returned to their homes, so people dressed in costumes and lit bonfires to ward off spirits. Halloween marks the end of the Celtic year, which is also called the ‘Witches’ New Year.’ This also gives us a faint connection to why we associate witches with Halloween. Through the centuries, numerous young women have been trying to use magic and crystal balls and all sorts of things to find out about their future life, husbands (or wives!), destiny and what not. In the 21st century, we’d say “she’s just a girl ၄၃” and brush it off, but unfortunately, they weren’t born during this generation. Countless women were burnt, killed, and tortured for allegedly being witches.  A witch  by definition is a woman who is said to have magical powers. The media tends to portray them as evil, green skinned hags, when in reality, she’s just a girl.  The Forgotten Wisdom Of Witches In their earliest descriptions, witches weren’t the villains, rather really really smart women who knew about herbs, spirituality, herbs, or midwives who carried the secret of earth. In a world where science and medicine were rudimentary, these women bridged the gap between the natural and the mystical. Their understanding of plants, remedies, and the cycles of nature made them indispensable, yet also feared.   When you see a smart woman who knows her stuff, you already know she’s going to be independent. These women didn’t rely on men to navigate the world; they had their own skills and power. In a society where a woman’s worth was tied to her obedience, their existence itself was dangerous.  And guess who didn’t like women becoming girlbosses? Hint hint  Men!  And thus began the end of the beginning.  Witchcraft and Liberation of Women Through the centuries, witches have also been associated with rebellion. Witchcraft wasn’t just about casting spells; it was about challenging the rules. The witch trials of the past were often political acts disguised as spiritual purges. Women who spoke too loudly, acted too boldly, or simply existed in the wrong place at the wrong time became targets. And yet, the witch persisted. She became a symbol—not of evil, but of resistance. Every whispered incantation was an act of defiance, every potion brewed a reminder of a woman’s power to create and control. In this light, witches are not the villains of history, but unsung heroines. The Era Of Modern Witches Fast forward to today, and witches are no longer confined to cauldrons and curses. Modern witchcraft, or "witch culture," has evolved into a movement. Tarot readings, moon rituals, and crystals have become tools for self-care and empowerment. The modern witch is less about casting spells and more about reclaiming agency. She’s not just a character in a story; she’s a metaphor for resilience, independence, and strength. Even pop culture has begun to rewrite the narrative. From Wanda Maximoff to Sabrina Spellman, witches are no longer one-dimensional villains. They are complex, relatable, and powerful—flawed but fierce. And as William Congreve said, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.  Feminism In Halloween Halloween is often seen as a celebration of fear, but it is also a celebration of the feminine. Its symbols—witches, black cats, even the moon—are steeped in feminine energy. They remind us of the power that lies in intuition, mystery, and transformation. So, when you see a witch this Halloween, look beyond the hat and broomstick. See her for what she truly is: a symbol of strength, wisdom, and rebellion. Because even the ghosts of Halloween whisper of feminism, and even the witches remind us of the power of being "just a girl."

i love how my smile is so wide, like i'm in an amusement park and this is my favourite ride; i love how my mood lightens up, when you don’t know what to say and just mutter “sup”; i love how your touch sends shivers up my spine, like your heart and mine has the same design; i love how my hand fits in yours just right, it feels like my favourite jacket hugging my body tight; i love how your gaze grazes over mine, you make me feel like all the stars are in align; i love it when you trace the lines in my palm, ironic how the storm keeps the drizzle calm;  i love how you understand me without me even speaking, our own vernaculary—my heart is always seeking; i love how you just blabber gibberish with that stupid pen in your mouth, and god, how i wonder if i would ever say these to you aloud?

are people bad or they’re just people who sometimes do bad things, Is the hero who sacrificed his love for the world truly someone admiring? are people bad or they’re just people who sometimes do bad things, is the villain who saved the little puppy but burned the village, full of immorality? are people bad or they’re just people who sometimes do bad things, Is the mother who steals food and clothes any better than someone committing robbery? are people bad or they’re just people who sometimes do bad things, Is the girl who broke someone’s heart to keep others happy so depreciating? are people bad or they’re just people who sometimes do bad things, Is the boy who tells white lies to protect his family truly deceiving? are people bad or they’re just people who sometimes do bad things, Is the friend who drifts away in silence more guilty than one who betrays with speaking? are people bad or they’re just people who sometimes do bad things, Is the stranger who walks past a cry for help any worse than the one ignoring? are people bad or they’re just people who sometimes do bad things, Or are we all just pages of stories, full of flaws yet deserving of meaning? Maybe good and bad are shadows we wear, shifting with time, For in every sinner lives a saint, and in every saint, a crime.

i’m not a beach person but i go to one because it is your heart’s calling, and i would run off to london for a holiday because it is you who loves the snow’s falling; and i would dress myself in all blacks because it is your favourite hue, and whenever you’re not around i feel the deepest shades of blue; to the world i speak of nothing, to you i cannot stop speaking, and all the times we’ve done the sneaking; i wouldn’t trade it for anything in this world, not even for watching ‘jab we met’ like it was my first time, or for my favourite pav bhaji’s dine; and beneath the sun’s warm glow or the moon’s soft beams, your favourite lilies bloom— a symphony of dreams. yet in the garden of choices, where daffodils sway, i’d pick lilies for you, in their elegance, id stay; in the language of flowers, our bond is spoken, a bouquet of memories and a promise unbroken; so among the blooms, where love subtly distils, I choose lilies for you, amidst the daffodil hills.

I am all the things that he is, and I am even more. Must I always prove myself when he is even not? Dress like this, speak like that,  make sure someone’s ego does not fall flat. Curls of my hair, paints on my nails, and the dream takes a sail, oh this isn’t fair! Feminism, they say, what’s the need? Oh dear, it is until you pay heed! A veil of perfection,  to be the crème de la creme of the selection. Equality you need, equality you get,  but who will see to it— that our needs are met? I am all the things that he is, and I am even more. Then tell me why must I go through this all alone?

There are currently over 8 billion people on this planet as I write this very sentence. Out of these people, some will proudly call themselves ‘cool’ millennials, others will belong to the middle-aged Generation X, and there are even a few unlucky ones in the iPad generation, also known as “Generation Alpha.” But among all these groups, there’s one that stands out—a generation that’s a little funny, a little reckless, and filled with a whole new wave of ideas. We call them Generation Z, famously or infamously known as Gen Z. There’s a lot I could say about being Gen Z, but for the sake of both our sanities, let’s focus on one thing: Gen Z’s knack for creating slang out of thin air. It’s almost as if Gen Z pulls these phrases out of a magical hat. I remember, one day  in the middle of 2023, I was browsing through Instagram Reels when I suddenly started getting bombarded with all the reels that went “My roman empire is…”, “...is literally my roman empire”. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t confused for a week, trying to understand what new phrase the internet had brought to existence. Being ‘Roman Empire’ means being something that is embedded in someone’s thoughts. Something they can keep on thinking and talking and imagining for hours and not grow out of it. The human brain is a very interesting organ. It houses our mind, which furnishes millions and millions of thoughts. There are only a few things that pass through our brain and stay. Consider it your lucky day, because today– you get to hear about one of mine. It was a random day in the month of May earlier this year, when I came across this  ‘Webtoon’ or ‘Manhwa’, known as ‘Omniscient Reader’s Viewpoint’ or simply ORV. I remember reading it religiously on my iPad like a maniac. Since the summer vacations were going on, I had nothing better to do, dawn to dusk. I completed whatever was uploaded in the span of just 3 days. Since it is an ongoing manhwa, the story was far from complete, the characters weren’t fully absorbed in my brain’s threshold and I kept wanting for more and more. Upon going on reddit and quora and god knows what not, I learned that ORV was a completed ‘Light Novel’. So as any sane person would not  react, I headed deep into the 551 chapters of ORV. The characters, the storyline, the world building, the dialogues, the themes, everything about it bound me to it. But what really has kept me glued to it, is the idea it is based on. That idea is what I’d call my ‘Roman Empire’. The idea of how stories never die. How stories help you survive. How stories are who  you are. When you think about it, you’ll start seeing a picture that has been photo-framed and nailed into my brain. Words never die. Stories– they never die. I’ve been a reader for as long as I can remember. I don’t exactly remember ‘How’ or ‘When’ I started reading. I always liked going to the library as a young girl. My first proper novel was at the age of ten if memory serves me right. It was “Life Is What You Make It” by Preeti Shenoy. An abandoned book in a huge stash pile of my father’s books. Reading has always been relaxing for me. I’ve never really understood how some people find reading boring or annoying. For me, it’s always been my escape, my way of making sense of the world. Reading has a unique magic that brings comfort, even when everything else feels chaotic In ORV, our story’s protagonist or the ‘reader’ is Kim Dokja (Dokja means reader in Korean). He was an introverted office worker whose hobby was to read. On the day of the final of his favourite web novel “3 Ways To Survive An Apocalypse”, the novel became a reality. And since he was the sole reader of the story… he was the only person who knew how the story went. I deeply resonated with Dokja, you know? Reading made him feel at ease. Helped him survive. Literally. Reading does the same for me. Helps me survive. It makes me feel less alone. Reading makes me feel like my friends are still with me, like I’m never truly alone. It awakens emotions I thought I had long forgotten. It makes me smile. Moreover, it makes me get up each day to start a new story.  But there is one more thing I have. That our dear Kim Dokja doesn’t have. I am a reader, yes. But I am also a writer. I can create characters and stories and personalities and worlds people can only dream of. I can bring your wildest dreams and your silent secrets and your worst nightmares on a silver palate and present it as if it were made of stuff that stars are made of. For some people, a book is just a medium in which pages are fastened together with the alphabet arranged in different combinations on it. For some, it is a hobby, a pastime, a way of entertainment. For the others, it is their livelihood, to read and to write. It is fascinating, isn't it? To be someone’s bread and better and be something people do after earning their bread and butter. We are all made up of stories—you, me, your mother, my father, the cute girl next door, even the shy boy in your maths class.  All of us. Our stories make us who we are. They shape us, break us, mould us, into different forms. They decide the way we look at our surroundings, decide how others perceive us. Some of the tales we are made up of, are short lived but beautiful. Some tales are funny anecdotes you’d have written when you were 16, on a rooftop in the middle of night, talking about nonsensical topics with your group of friends. Some tales are tragic, some hopeful, some embarrassing. But at the end of the day, the stories make us who we are. And that, dear reader, is the thought that stays with me constantly. Or, as we Gen Z like to say, it’s my Roman Empire.

Hello dear reader, if you’ve reached this far— you’ve probably read the entire update. If you haven’t, it’s okay, patience is a virtue. Rare at that. What you are about to read next is a web of thoughts at 10:52 pm in my notes app. I have a theory. Everything happens for a reason. Okay— this is definitely not my theory, but it is a belief. One that I wholeheartedly believe in. Suppose, you have a stuffed toy that you sleep with everyday. Eventually, it wears down. The cotton starts coming out, it gets dirtier, and your ‘annoying’ little younger sibling just ripped it apart. You sleep with that stuffed teddy everyday. And now? It’s gone. What would you do? Never sleep again? Punish your sibling? You cannot bring back the same old teddy despite whatever you try to do. And guess what? THAT, my dear, happened for a reason. Now the reason in your head or my head could be anything. It could be a lesson for you to be independent and start sleeping on your own, or for me, it could be to try out new stuffed animals! No more teddy? No worries, we have rabbits and elephants and cats and dogs and anything that my brain can imagine. There is one more belief that I believe in a lot. “Something is better than nothing”. I have no clear recollection of where I got this ideology from, but I am utterly grateful to even know this phrase. This cluster of 5 words is the sole reason why I do the things the way I do. Humans are intelligent creatures. Excellent creatures. Beautiful. Smart. Our brains have the power that no machine or computer has. If we give even our 1% each day—by the end of year we’ll be looking at a 37% increase. I am no commerce student but I’ve the common sense to know that- THAT is a lot. If you haven’t fallen asleep yet, I really appreciate it. It seems I have seemingly forgotten the essay format and hence I shall be ending my written Ted Talks this way. However, before we part ways dear reader—I want you to know that no matter what you do, how you do it, why you do it, you must always listen to that organ in the left of your thoracic cavity. It knows the best. Listen to it. Follow it. Fulfill it.  -Shatakshi

Hello dear reader, if you’ve reached this far, you’ve probably read the entire update. Even if you haven’t, it’s totally okay, not everyone has a knack for reading. In my previous editorial, I talked about the journey from elections to writing the article. In this edition, I’d like to give you a sneak peek of the world brewing inside my mind lately. To start off, I’ve been on writers’ block for almost a month, even while currently writing this on the ‘Notes’ app on my phone, I’m still dealing with the writers’ block. And I will not lie to you, it’s really hard dealing with a blank mind when your only speciality is thinking and writing it down. Sometimes it has gotten so bad that I’ve had people restraining me physically from throwing things here and there out of frustration because I could not think and write anything. It’s unfortunate how human brains give up so easily. And it’s even more unfortunate how it wants to do things but it’s just not capable of it. And you know what? I think that’s okay, because the world isn’t a wish granting factory that makes everything come true. Second of the storms brewing inside would be the pressure of friendships. Friends. We all have friends, various kinds even— good, close, best, whatever you name it. Even I had a large group of friends, but because of my schedule at school and emotional unavailability at times, we got distanced. More distanced than I would’ve preferred, and that ended up with them and I back to strangers, pretending the other one doesn’t exist. And you know what? THAT is also okay, because things like these happen. People will come, people will go— what you must learn is that life goes on. Only a few hours ago, I came across this quote that says, “People aren't homes, they never will be. Maybe people are boats on the rivers, sailing through the highs and lows. Making a tiny space for themselves, enough to be someone's home”. They say home is where the heart is, so my advice is, keep the heart with yourself, be your own home, be your own safe space. Last, but not the least, I would like to talk about the academic pressure. I am not saying that I have the best of grades, neither am I saying that I work my best for them. I try, whatever I can. As a student, my sole purpose is to study, yet I can never seem to fulfil it. The pressure is a lot yes, but it does not mean that I, or anyone should give up. I mean, just look around you, everyone you’ve seen and met has been through the same things, surpassed them, and are still here. If they can do it, why can’t you? Although, I admit it’s going to take loads of time and effort to get back on my “All A's” track, I’m still on it and still very capable of it. And there’s no one in this universe who can tell me otherwise. To wrap things up, I write to you dear reader and tell you- that you ought not give up under any circumstances. Things happen—maybe you lost your favourite piece of clothing, maybe your favourite coffee mug broke, maybe you and your best friend got into a fight, but at the end of day, life goes on. It must go on. So what I want you to do from today onwards is that— whenever you feel demotivated, or you feel down, just remember; that six months, or even six weeks down the lane this will be insignificant or hurt way less than it hurts now. Stop worrying yourself about silly things; you’re made for much greater goods.