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Eunoia.

...because everything epic starts with a thought Who we are? A team of a semesterly issued magazine in NIT Kurukshetra. What we do? When did we start?

We resonate with and present those beautiful thoughts that sit in the right part of the brains of our nerdy engineers. Founded in 2014 by Deepika Meena, Aayush Verma and Apoorva Dhamija. What started as a dreamof 3 is now a dream of one big fat family. (We prefer to call our team as a family)

Where are we? In those classrooms that have no boundaries and the last pages of every notebook that has a

story to tell.

*NIT Kurukshetra*

How are we accomplishing what we claim to do? With a significant readership in the college and a versatile team, we are running into our successful 7 years and 10 editions. We are also supported by a 4K+ followers on our page.

31/10/2024

Coming home for Diwali this year felt different. Not because the decorations were any grander or the sweets any fancier, but because everything was exactly as I remembered it - and, somehow, that was the biggest comfort.

The day started like it always does: mom already up and busy, setting up diyas in the hallway; dad inspecting every light he’d hung, convinced one of them was going to short-circuit any second. And me, still half asleep, just absorbing the hum of it all. These little rituals, after months away, felt like they carried a kind of quiet magic.

By afternoon, the house was ready, and I’d somehow gotten roped into decorating. As I placed the diyas on the steps outside, I realized how much I’d missed this. Not just the festival, but the feeling of home - how my mom can always tell if a diya is even a bit out of place or how my dad roams around the house supervising the decorations. It's these small, ordinary things that hit me hardest.

Evening came, and we lit the diyas together. I found myself watching my family more than the lights. My dad humming a tune, my mom fussing over every last diya. It was these tiny and quiet moments that made Diwali feel real - not the lights, not the sweets, not even the fireworks. Just this sense of calm, of feeling grounded, like all was right in this little world of ours.

And as I stood there, looking at the house full of that familiar glow, I realized that Diwali wasn’t about grand celebrations or any kind of ritual for me. It was about a reminder that no matter where I go, there’s always a place where everything makes sense. Where I don’t have to explain myself, where I don’t have to be anything other than...me.

I don’t know how long I’ll stay here this time. But for tonight, I’m not going anywhere.
Credits:
Writeup:
Illustration:

28/10/2024

Journey out of this forsaken breach
Escape from this unending land
Where no worries ever reach
And time doesn't flow like sand

The world too big for human lust
and life too fleeting and small
What are we but a speck of dust
Cluelessly stuck on this blue ball

Is it time that's passing
Or is it just us that fade
Our burdens stopped our rising
But our dreams of conquest stayed

A fragile presence in this expanse
What are we but victims of time
Lives being nothing but a game of chance
Our unquenchable desire be our biggest crime

With every step,with every breath
Worries cling like shadows near
We challenge fate,defy our death
Living life holding everything dear

Credits:
Writeup:
Illustration:

19/10/2024

A dog that’s fed, no hunger, no fight,
No cold or pain disturbs its quiet night.
Yet unseen chains, which softly hold it still,
A spirit tied, obeying its master’s will.
It dreams to run where wild winds freely call,
But duty keeps it bound; it can’t break at all.
A silent guard, fierce in its place to stay,
Its heart is locked; it can’t wander away.

A ship that drifts, no anchor to the land,
It sails the seas, led by the waves’ command.
No chains of land, yet bound by waves that steer,
Its path unclear, its course tied to the sphere.
Like men away from home, with hearts buried in ground
Freedom they grasped, yet in new chains they’re found.
For with each step, heaviness weighs upon their chest,
To sail alone means bearing all the rest.

Man dreams of freedom from his very birth.
To break the ties that hold him to the earth.
But in his grasp, he finds a bitter truth—
Freedom’s not so simple in the hands of youth.
For every choice leads to another snare,
A burden far more than he can bear.
Dostoevsky’s words echo through his mind.
In consciousness-free, he suffers, bound and confined.

Credits:
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13/10/2024

Opia -intense eye contact

Eyes meet by chance,
Words exchanged through stares.
A blush blooms softly,
Feelings laid bare.

Each moment a question,
A spark in the air.
The answer drifts softly,
Caught in a tender glare.

And how peculiar to be
Haunted by someone still alive.
How strange to crave someone
Only known for a while.
Isn’t it odd how the heart can
Fall for a smile?

The moment calls for caution;
One turns a nervous wreck.
The heart skips a beat,
Bound by what’s coming next.

Expressive gazes breathe
Emotions into silence.
The hearts converse,
Defying all compliance.

One can only hope
That the other can guess
All the implicit feelings
Silence fails to express.
Credits:
Writeup:
Illustration:

07/10/2024

I still remember the day,
clear as if it was yesterday
A new kid, barely 9 years old
Mama said, "Go to school and be bold"

I was seated next to a girl,
Who knew everything about this world
Didn't have a pencil on me, so she said
"You can have mine, but don't chew the lead"

The day was over, and as i boarded the bus
I found someone who i could always trust
Our volumes of stories, the bus rides they would embellish
Until the back and forth journeys were something we relished

Months passed by, and enters this new dude
Totally rad with a daring attitude
Little did i know he'll be the bro i never had;
Typical boys friendship, trying to be each other's dad

And i dare not forget my academic rival
A silent girl, with a glare like a rifle
Though the competitive part I remember just roughly
Her little sister was a brat, who called me a monkey

Then there was this girl, I've never seen her quiet
Yapping forever, packing with her a riot
A train of thoughts with no filter or brakes
Saying the darkest things, leaving tremors and quakes

But it wasn't just the people i met in person
Connections made online were their own version
On a screen somewhere in Arizona
I was comforted by a mother-like persona

And when I recently retried a hobby i had put to rest
I found out i was no longer the best
A little star had taken my place
He looks up to me, so I lead the ways

I don't have a lot of real ones, only a handful
But for this modern family, I'm truly thankful
There are many others that I couldn't mention
If you're reading this, let's have a catching up session

Through my journey, It's a conclusion that dawned upon me
Family isn't just those who you're born to, you see
It's the hands you hold, hearts that care
Take a look around, family can be anywhere.

Credits:
Writeup:.regular.nerd
Illustration:

30/09/2024

What is a mirror's color,
What secrets does it keep?
It holds no hue within its heart,
Yet shows the world so deep.

It reflects the sky, the earth,
Yet holds nothing in its glass,
A silent canvas, void of worth,
Through which all visions pass.

Through its lens We seek to find
truth about our body and mind
But the mirror only serves to blind
With warped reflections not so kind

It comforts us with gentle lies,
Yet haunts us with the truth,
A gateway to the mysteries,
Or a trapdoor of youth.

Can highlight our biggest scars
Make us stare in the abyss
Highlight our powers
Make us blind to the oasis

A paradox it holds
One with no hue
Shows us the world
Blinding us with its view

Tells tales of endless space
Yet holds no story true
From another paradoxical world
Where all reflections brew

Credits:
Writeup:
Illustration:

27/09/2024

If given a choice of being born as a girl in next lifetime, I’d choose it any day. Womanhood is a spectrum, filled with a wide range of colours— lush and vibrant, painting the world around us. Every woman has a unique journey, facing different struggles but the emotions are all same.
There are countless little things to be grateful for, so many reasons to love and we cherish each one of them. Happiness is a pursuit; it has to be found, to be happy is to find excitement in little things– from discovering that your dress has pockets or finding cute stickers in your kinder joy or having a good hair day brings joy like no other. You were getting bored and the next thing you know your room is all messy because you decided to have your own fashion show.
The small things matter so much to me. I overthink a lot, I might get overly emotional– to the point where it drives me crazy and I end up crying. But I am finally calmed by a phone call with a long distant friend, she sure lives distance away but she’ll exactly know what to say, never letting the distance stopping me from confronting everything to her. Therapy is expensive, so I turn off the lights of my room switch on the fairy lights instead, blasting music and having late-night gossip sessions with my girls. We laugh and we cry and before we know it, it’s 3 a.m.
To be a woman is to be empowered. The strongest beings— our strength goes beyond physicality and speaks to resilience and endurance. There must be a divine force within us, because to experience what feels like a near-death experience every month is not ordinary. The daily challenges and the societal pressures, the breaking of societal norms and taboos to be able to prove our worth, from juggling work while carrying a life in your womb to protecting yourself from evil eyes out there— this sure is beyond human.

Credits:
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22/09/2024

A candle burns atop my head,
Thoughts drip heavy, slow, and dull.
Losing ideas, with a greyish colour
Fading embers, doused by the blur.

The pen that wrote on has come to a halt
Perspective is stolen, just a broken vault
A sense of comfort though accompanies the burning
As I leave behind all those tragedies unlearning

My head hung low, in the endless night,
Chasing shadows, longing for the light.
The tombstone of my memories, I can’t find a testament
Searching through the ruins of what once was a monument

Like a sunflower facing west in the morning,
I’ll wither away with no one mourning
Heh… My time seems up, next is the final verse
My long-awaited liberation from this curse

Wasn’t it just year 1999? It went away so soon
No gold, no silver, “Neo there’s no spoon.”
Staring in the void, hoping something returns
The candle however, no longer burns

Credits:
Writeup:.regular.nerd
Illustration:

17/09/2024

I still remember the first time I met her. It was during those awkward first weeks of college, when everything was new and a bit overwhelming. She seemed so calm, so put together, as if she had everything already figured out. She was the kind of person who wouldn't go anywhere without holding a cup of coffee in her hand.

I didn't even like coffee back then. To me, it was just a bitter brown liquid people used to stay awake. But, she made coffee sound like magic.

One afternoon, while walking around the campus, she handed me her cup and said, "Try it." I hesitated, but she insisted. I took a sip and honestly, my life changed right there. "I was missing out on this?", I screamed with excitement.

That day onwards, coffee became 'our thing'. Morning classes? Coffee. Late night studying? Coffee. Walks around the campus? Coffee. This drink was responsible for such a beautiful, or may I say, brew-tiful bond between us.

Four years of college passed, and we eventually went our separate ways. Life happened, as it always does - new cities, new jobs, new routines. We drifted apart. But in all this chaos and confusion, coffee stayed.

Every time I take a sip, I’m reminded of those days. It’s funny, really. Coffee became this invisible thread connecting us, even when we were no longer sharing the same table.

Now, when I’m working late or just need a moment to myself, I still reach for a cup. It doesn’t just wake me up, it takes me back and makes me relive all the time I spent on campus.

In a way, coffee is my way of staying connected with my college days. As long as I have my cup, I know a bit of that magic will always be with me.

Credits:
Writeup:
Illustration:

13/09/2024

What is Love? Easily one of the most perplexing and unanswerable questions through time.
The sheer amount of perspectives one can find to it are unimaginable. The subject of
countless debates, literature, philosophical discussion, and yet its essence remains elusive
to date. In the end, everyone has an opinion about love, everyone desires it, and everyone
who doesn’t often ends up being viewed as broken or flawed by others.
People “fall in” love and they can “fall out” just as quickly. Unguided by logic, running purely
on emotions. But after all, logic never had a place in this game in the first place. For what
logic can you ascribe to a churning in your stomach, or the unconscious urge to smile at
someone’s sight. It’s powerful. It shapes our lives, molds our behavior and influences us to
make decisions we would never even consider otherwise. It can make us kinder, more
patient, more understanding. It can make us irrational, delusional and push us to our
emotional extremes. It can be a source of both strength and vulnerability. It simply exists,
capable of transforming us in ways even we may not realize.
Love is a gamble, a leap of faith into the vast unknown. No guarantees, no promises. It’s
opening yourself to someone else, it’s vulnerability, it’s the risk of a heartbreak, it’s the
courage of letting someone else hold your heart, having no way to prevent them from simply
mincing it to pieces one day, knowing that they may not always continue to hold it with care.
And yet we dive right in, with no safeguards to fall back to. It is the uncertainty after all, the
thin line between fear and hope that ends up making love so intoxicating,
And so even when it fails us, leaves us bruised and battered, stuck in our own minds,
haunted by our very own dreams that we cherished at some point, we cannot help but hope
that maybe, just maybe, the next time, it won’t be the same. That despite the scars, the
pieces of our heart will be back in one piece someday.
[Continued in comments...]

07/09/2024

Rihaan paced, his face flushed with frustration. “Dude! My car got towed today—of all days! I had a date. It’s like the UNIVERSE hates me!” He groaned, tossing his bag. “Why me, God?!” He scratched his head, stressing over the fees and paperwork.

Kartikey, calmly on the couch, glanced up. “C’mon, bro! Just chill out. You’ll get the car back tomorrow,” he said with annoying calmness. “Dude, I got the latest FIFA game; let’s just chill out and play.”

Two days later, Rihaan stormed in, angry. “Can you believe it? Someone stole my wallet! My IDs, cards—everything!” He pressed his hands against his face. “It’s like I can’t catch a break. This world hates me!”

Kartikey, unbothered, said, “Chill out, bro. Just, reissue the IDs. There’s nothing you can do right now.” He glanced at his phone. “Ordering food; want some?”

Anxiety crawled over Rihaan. The thought of blocking cards and filling out forms weighed on him. Kartikey’s carefree attitude made it only worse. Rihaan wondered how someone could be so relaxed.

A week later, Rihaan burst in, pale and worried. “I just got fired!” His voice cracked. “They let me go because of the recession. I’m left with nothing!” He looked up. (looking at the ceiling, “BAPPA!”). “What now? What will I do?”

Kartikey sighed, pausing the TV game. “Okay, dude, it’s a big problem. But stressing won’t help. You hated that job anyway. Maybe it’s for the best. Chill out and take a break.”

Rihaan stared in disbelief. “A break? Chill out?!” His voice rose. “You can say that because it’s not happening to you! How am I supposed to chill when everything is falling apart? Will YOU solve my problems?” His anger boiled over. “Who do you think you are, God?”

Without waiting for an answer, Rihaan stormed out, slamming the door behind him. He came down the stairs and walked aimlessly, the weight of all the problems pressing on his chest. As he walked, he stumbled upon the brightly lit Ganpati mandap. It was the middle of Ganesh Chaturthi, and the sounds of celebration filled the air. People were laughing, dancing, and praying.
(... continued)

05/09/2024

In a school not long ago,
A teacher’s son faced a cruel blow.
Beaten black and blue,
He sobbed as he screamed “bhaiya what did I do?”

The bully’s anger fierce and wild.
A sixth grader’s rage unkind,
All because the teacher had scolded him,
For disturbing the class, his patience slim.

The teacher’s child is found in a stall,
Bruised and frightened, pressed against the wall.
Fury ignites within the mother’s gaze;
A part of the teacher’s soul is set ablaze.

Her faith in kindness seemed to fade,
Was this the tribute Teachers’ Day had made?

Across the land, such tales appear,
Where teachers’ struggles are severe.

In a distant state, the story’s told,
Of a teacher faced with fate so cold.
She urged a student to focus and strive,
For better grades, to truly thrive.

Yet when his father heard her plea,
His anger roared uncontrollably.
In rage, he struck, a judgment swift,
Attacking her, her efforts adrift.

Was this the tribute Teachers’ Day had made?
A world where their worth seems to fade?

Across the land, such tales tear hearts,
Weakening morale, tearing us apart.

In a realm where teachers shine one day,
With gratitude and praise ,on display,
Yet year-round, they face disdain,
A cycle of scorn and silent pain.

What future blooms in such a land,
Where fleeting praise and harsh rebuke stand?
Aren’t there steps we as a society could undertake?
Is this the tribute Teachers’ Day aims to make?

Credits:
Writeup:mansii_dwivedi
Illustration:stoictam

29/08/2024

The childhood summers

Under the blazing sun,
Where shadows ran long and thin,
We'd grab our bats and race to the field,
As the day’s first game would begin.

The crack of willow on the worn-out ball,
Echoed through the dusty street,
Barefoot, laughing, chasing dreams,
With victory's taste so sweet.

Sweat dripped down our brows like rain,
Yet we played on without a care,
And when the noon heat grew too strong,
We'd pause for a cold, sweet affair.

The ice-cold kiss of a 1 rupee pop,
Red, orange, green in our grasp,
Melting faster than we could lick,
Summer’s joy in every gasp.

As the evening sun began to dip,
We’d gather round, cards in hand,
Battling friends with Pokémon’s might,
In our own enchanted land.

And when the skies turned shades of pink,
We’d rush inside, hearts alight,
To watch our favorite TV show,
A daily ritual, pure delight.

At night, beneath the open sky,
We’d lay on cots, stars so high,
Listening to grandma’s tales so wise,
As dreams danced in every eye.

The cool breeze whispered through the trees,
Crickets sang their lullaby,
And we drifted off to sleep with ease,
Underneath that endless sky.

Oh, those summers of endless fun,
In a world so pure, so free,
They stay alive, within our hearts,
A golden memory.

Credits:
Writeup:.a.u.r.a.v__
Illustration:

Hashtags:

26/08/2024

In the land where the Yamuna flows,
A story of love and courage grows.
In Mathura’s shadows, dark and deep,
A child was born while the world was asleep.

Vasudeva braved the stormy night,
Carrying Krishna, the world’s new light.
Through the river’s wild, rushing tide,
To Gokul’s shore, he did safely glide.

In Vrindavan, he grew with charm,
His flute’s sweet notes brought peace and calm.
Gopis smiled, and the cows would sway,
To Krishna’s tune at the break of day.

But behind the laughter, in his eyes,
Was a strength that could move the skies.
He lifted Govardhan with just one hand,
And saved his people, took a stand.

He danced on Kaliya, the serpent fierce,
And brought back peace, so pure and clear.
In Mathura, he faced Kansa’s wrath,
But ended the tyrant’s dark path.

Yet Krishna’s tale didn’t end there,
He showed the world how much he cared.
In the Gita’s words, so wise and true,
He taught us all what we should do.

Krishna, the mighty, the guiding star,
In every heart, no matter how far.
His story, timeless, still unfolds,
In every soul, his love still holds.

Credits:
Writeup:
Illustration: .regular.nerd

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24/08/2024

Saw her standing there, and my heart took flight,
"She's an angel," I thought, "this feels so right."
She glanced my way with a look full of gross,
She muttered, "Ew, Adios Amigos!"

With time, my feelings hurled,
She became the color of this black-and-white world.
Her ears perked up when she heard my name,
"He's a great buddy, but that’s all the same."

Two different yarns, We were a perfect knit,
But the burden of my heart was so heavy, that I said it.
She sighed, then nodded with a smile so thin,
"I like you but as friends, that’s how it’s been."

My heart stopped, my smile went down,
"But this felt so right", I said and became a clown.
She patted my back, gave a playful shove,
"Don't worry, pal, you’ll find real love!"

Thus, my hopes shattered, yet again alone,
I was thrown into a dark place called the Friendzone.
This is my story, where hope met regret,
How I became Wifi with no Internet.

Credits:
Writeup:
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19/08/2024

Dear Sister,

Remember when it was just the two of us at home and the lights went out? I was terrified of the darkness and started crying. You found dad’s flashlight and saved the day. I thought of you as a superhero that day and if I’m being completely honest, I still do.

It’s not just because you’re brave or quick on your feet—though you are both of those things. It’s because you’ve always been there to turn my worries into something manageable, even if it’s just with a flashlight or a few reassuring words. You have this way of making things better, no matter how small or big the problem is.

Now that we’re apart, I miss the days when we didn’t need to plan to see each other. Those were easier times, and they’ve become memories I hold onto tightly.

Even though we’re in different places now, I want you to know that you’re still my superhero. No distance can change that.

I can’t wait to see you.

With love,
Your Sister

Credits:
Writeup:
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17/08/2024

Welcome to the Eunoia family! 🌟
Excited to see the magic you'll bring to the magazine. Let's create something beautiful together! ✨

16/08/2024

“There is a need to create fear in the minds of criminals”

That is the go-to statement of most men in positions of power after something horrifying happens to a woman, like it did in Kolkata. It’s an easy statement; no one can deny that criminality must be curbed by fear of law. Yet these statements will never translate into something tangible, because the purpose of this statement is to avoid a very difficult conversation about society in general. You can make men fear the prospect of criminality because criminals are “rare”, but you can’t make them fear depravity because we are surrounded by depravity. And depravity can turn anyone into a criminal. This country needs reprogramming more than stricter law enforcement, and this element of depravity needs to go away: the thought process behind considering women as slaves to your comfort, your pleasure, and your mental and physical well being needs to go away. This thought process has consumed a very considerable portion of our society - from local law enforcement to khaps to a hoard of moral police who are ready to pin it all down on elements that had no control over the circumstances. And every institution and every individual who subscribes to this thought process consciously or subconsciously needs to be reprogrammed or needs to go away. There’s a need to raise a generation of people who don’t want power over someone, who don’t consider s*x as something that has to be achieved or taken, who value the virtue of compassion and don’t find aspects strength or masculinity in depravity. Or these “rare” criminals will keep coming after another sister, another healer, or maybe another friend, and subject her to this very same depravity. And subsequently you’d have some man in a position of power reiterating “There is a need to create fear in the minds of criminals”.

Credits:
Writeup:
Illustration:

Hashtags:
# kolkatadoctordeath

15/08/2024

Kabir slammed the door behind him, his frustration echoing through the tiny apartment. “Another one,” he muttered, shaking his head as he stared at the rejection email on his phone. “Kids are earning money dancing on social media apps and a qualified post graduate can’t land a job... what a country” He tossed his bag aside, not caring where it landed. The sound of it hitting something hard was followed by the clatter of old boxes spilling their contents across the floor.
“Great..” he sighed, kneeling to pick up the mess. As he shuffled through the scattered items, his hand brushed against something smooth and cool. He pulled out a leather-bound diary, the cover worn with age. Intrigued, he dusted it off and saw his grandfather’s name, “Amar Singh,” written on the front.
Kabir sat back on his heels, flipping open the diary. The first entry was dated August 1942. His grandfather had been just a few years older than he was now, yet the words on the page spoke of a fierce resolve.
“Today, we march to the heart of the city. They say it will be dangerous, that the British troops won’t hesitate to open fire. But we have no choice. If we do not fight, we will never be free.”
Kabir’s eyes widened as he continued reading. His grandfather had been part of the Quit India Movement, a time when the country was on the brink of breaking free from colonial rule. The entries painted a vivid picture of those unstable days.
“They took Sohan today. We were just standing in a circle and singing our anthem. They came with their batons and guns but Sohan didn’t flinch. They beat him until he fell, but he only sang louder. I can still hear the sound of his voice as they dragged him away: ‘Don’t stop, Amar. Don’t ever stop.
‘I won’t. I swear it on his blood, I will see this country free.”

… stay tuned! continued in the top comment

12/08/2024

What is life
But the memories we hold
The reality we faced
The tales we were told
The world is ending
As foretold

The sky darkens now
as silence takes its place,
We search for comfort
in each familiar face.

But time slips away
like sand through a mold,
As the shadows grow long
and the nights grow cold.

For what is life
In this ending so bold
Everything loses meaning
As the world turns cold
Credits:
Writeup:
Illustration:

01/08/2024

Arjun heard a loud siren in the neighbourhood when he was completing his homework. He stepped out onto the balcony and spotted an ambulance with its lights flashing. It turned out there’d been an accident down the street, and paramedics were busy helping someone onto a stretcher.

This incident put Arjun in a lot of thought. He realized just how unpredictable life can be—how everything can change in the blink of an eye, and how none of us really know what’s coming next.

He started to think, “What if today’s my last day?” The idea scared him, and he tried to push it aside, but the thought kept creeping back into his mind. The thought gnawed at him, making him question everything he took for granted. As he lay in bed that night, the idea of his own mortality lingered, and he found himself staring at the ceiling, deep in thought.

The next morning, he decided to do things a little differently. Instead of rushing through his routine, he took time to enjoy the sunrise, marvelling at the changing colours of the sky. At school, he appreciated the time he spent with his friends and joined in more eagerly. He sincerely thanked his teachers and respected their efforts.

After school, he connected with his family, helping his sister with homework, playing a board game with his parents, and chatting over dinner. He found joy in these simple moments that had once felt routine.

Arjun began to appreciate the small things he used to overlook. He savoured his favourite snacks, delved into his beloved books, and truly listened to the music he played. Each moment felt special and worth savouring.

As the day came to an end, Arjun felt a sense of calm he hadn’t experienced before. He realized that while he couldn’t control the future, he could make the most of the present. The thought of “What if today’s my last day?” became a reminder to enjoy and be grateful for every moment.

When he finally went to bed, he felt content. He had spent his day fully engaged with the people he cared about and the things he enjoyed. And as he drifted off to sleep, he felt a quiet happiness, knowing he had made the most of the day he had.

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Do you have what it takes to "Think Beautiful"? Eunoia is now inducting and you are welcome to join the best. See you all at OAT today and tomorrow. • • #eunoia #magazine

Writers, Illustrators and Designers! If you have what it takes to be in the best college magazine around, buckle up because we are bringing the party to you. See you all virtually on 10th, 11th and 12th March after 4:30 pm to write, draw and design!! Like our page and follow us on Instagram @eunoia.magazine for more updates. See you soon :) • • • #eunoia #magazine #art #illustration #drawing #draw #picture #artist #pencil #instaart #beautiful #instagood #creative #photooftheday #instaartist #graphic #graphics #writing #poetry #writersofinstagram #writer #love #poetrycommunity #quotes #poem #writingcommunity #writerscommunity #poetsofinstagram

Hey there, juniors! The time has finally come, Eunoia is inducting! Come show off your creativity by filling the form below by the 17th of September. And till then, remember to keep thinking beautiful! See you on 18-19th September ✨ https://bit.ly/EunoiaInduction For those who want to take part in the Induction process please fill the form and join the what's app group linked below : https://chat.whatsapp.com/I2hukrBte2yIeusrYVXAXe PS: You can be part of Eunoia even if you are already in a cultural club.

What began as an eleven year old venting out her feelings in the form of poetry on scraps of notebook paper soon blossomed into something more beautiful altogether for Helly Shah, eminent poet, writer and storyteller. Weaving together bewitching words and her eloquent voice, Helly rapidly gained recognition across various platforms for her work. Her stories, "Dosti ka breakup" and "Pyaar woh nahi" have reached millions of hearts on YouTube. Catch Helly voice her own story, as Eunoia. 9 brings you an exclusive interview of the female phenom! #Eunoia9ComingSoon #Eunoia.