Catching Time

A poem I wrote in grade 9, which doesn’t fully make sense to me anymore but it was just interesting to look back at it after so long:


Catching Time

Inflexible, Unstoppable, Imminent, Ungraspable

Every second steals a part of it

The most miniscule fragment runs away;

Even now as my laborious pen moves

And crawls on the white wall of paper,

It’s running

In every particle, with every word,

In every book, with every annotation,

Faster than the ant on the windowsill

Faster than the rapid beams of light.

In horizontal lines, and indefinite curves,

It treads through it all, crawling through my nerves.

Behold, it’s arriving

But it crawled through that hole.

Try again tomorrow,

Catching the time.

-Mehar Bhatia


The Room in Frame

An unfinished poem I wrote a while ago to accompany an art piece I did


If you touched your palm

to the floor, I wonder if it’ll be splintered

by the ground beading up and rounding

around your fingers.

Exuberant particles by the masses

leaving tarantula trails on your ring finger


If you pressed your ear

to the door, will your attentions be drawn

to the tinkling of an abstract orchestra

anchored to a distant solar system?

Or will the sound of silence deafen you


If you were fatigued and overwhelmed by a sudden spell of nausea and an instinct

to lean against the walls,

how much time will elapse before

the tree branches root your

feet to the ground they stand on?

How can you stand it?

– Tiffany Chu

It’s Passion, not Pretence

by Udita Bajaj

The Colosseum.

First day, first historical monument of Rome to visit. I stood there, motionless and at a loss of words. All I could do was stare. Stare at the architectural beauty which had a gaze several hundred years old and an aura even older. It had sustained the eye of many – more than one could ever count and I was just one of those myriad puny humans who came from around the world to admire it. My novels had come to life and for the first time, I was physically there, walking towards the entrance, ready to seep myself in a history book, dissolving into the first chapter.

I’d walked in with a positive attitude and a refreshed mind but naturally, as always, something unpleasant was bound to happen. Yes, we had to take a tour guide. Yes, Rome was one of my dream destinations. But why am I then supposed to know everything? I had always been interested in history and picked up bits of information wherever I stumbled upon them perchance – books, television, movies…everywhere! Be that as it may, I intentionally never went on the Internet and researched about the places I’ll be visiting in detail. Why? I want to learn. I want to learn while being there in person so that I could fully feel it all and absorb it all. But just because I had always been fascinated with Roman mythology and history didn’t mean I was a walking talking Roman encyclopedia!

“What is this sculpture, Udita? Which God, which king? What is it made of? Why is it like this?”

“You have an interest in Roman history, right? Tell us, then. Why is this monument built like this? Why is its structure like this?”

“You don’t know this? And you claim to be interested? What a disgrace!”

These were just a few repetitive taunts I had the privilege to hear from my family, especially my brother. A twelve year old freak – that is what he was, and with those tangled strands – mischief was written on his face, clearly shown in that evil triumphant grin he flashed at me from time to time. Since that day in the snow in Switzerland, his behavior had completely turned around. He was like a monkey out of its cage! Annoying me had become his favourite hobby and was being mastered by him to perfection in Rome. Apparently, my interest had slowly transformed into a subject of mockery.

It was discouraging but I tried not to let it overpower me and remove the reason why I was in this city. I was here to learn and immerse myself in what I loved. No matter what my obnoxious little brother said, I saw every part of this massive Roman amphitheater, listening, reading and learning.

“Are you done roaming around this monument? It’s time to go for shopping now, ” my parents had said to me from time to time, who were unconvinced of my desire to learn – they thought I was posturing it and their indifferent attitude towards the city I adored further strengthened their belief. I sighed to my myself in disgust.

“No,” I said.

I only had two days in my grasp. Tomorrow would be the Pantheon and the Trevi Fountain. Today, I took myself to one of the most famous Piazzas Piazza Venezia. And of course, my family had to come along, with their eyes open, buried in their phones. But I was determined to see not with the eye, but with the mind.

Tall and grand. Not massive, but grand. Pillars decorated the upper half, an evident symbol of ancient architecture. Below it were carved sculptures depicting…various scenes from battle, I believe? People filled the entire space beneath this magnificent monument, milling about like a swarm of bees, the mindless chatter getting lost amongst itself. However, the most special quality of this Piazza, which I got to learn, was what appealed to me the most – those sculptures weren’t scenes of battle. They were allegory, each with a hidden meaning, symbolizing something.The entire monument was an extended metaphor.

The blazing gleam of excitement in me could not be matched. I looked at my parents who overcome with exhaustion and heat. My little brother’s head rested in mum’s lap as she tried to calm the restlessness inside him because of the heat. Gradually, a slight smile took its place on my face and I shrugged my shoulders. I turned around and headed towards the flight of steps leading to the pale white emblem of grandeur, more ready than ever to plunge into the world of the past on my own.

Someday, I will return and see everything. Explore everything. Learn everything.

Someday, I will return.

Meet the E-Board: Senator

Hi Reviewers! 43063225_10156359540843301_1685651582802198528_nStarting today we will be posting the Fall 2018 The Wellesley Review E-Board introductions starting off with our wonderful senator, Alyssa 🙂

Hello! My name is Alyssa Robins, and I am the Senator for the Wellesley Review, as well as a general member on the prose and poetry boards. I am a first-year interested in studying English, creative writing, studio art, and astronomy, along with nearly everything else!

I first learned about the Wellesley Review while visiting campus in my sophomore year of high school, and it is a dream come true to be on the E-Board. I can’t wait to share our writers’ voices with the student body!

Outside of the Review, I am a copyeditor for the Wellesley News, a apprentice of the Guild of Carillonneurs, on the Dorm Crew, Elevator Elf for my dorm (McAfee!), involved with the Unitarian Universalist community on campus, and a member of the Student Organizations and Appointments Committee (SOAC).