Aryan's A-Z

  Emerald Bay 7 days. No civilization. Just the ocean breeze, a couple bags of packed belongings, and a district full of young studs with the lives of hundreds of impressionable scouts in their unwashed hands. Welcome to Camp Emerald Bay, where I was warped from my comforting manor of summer idleness into the harsh reality of the world outside our comfortable borders. Day 1: The day starts on a compact boat with wooden ramparts reeking of salty seawater and its confines as bijou as a 2 person tent. I had joked to my friend earlier that the boat was meant to fit all 500 of us, which he laughed off with as we knew that was impossible. 5 minutes later, and our faces went aghast as the ship's captain sent troop after troop to join us as we were all compacted into the upper deck. And off we were, with the apparent entitlement of the boat, The Barf Barge , soon coming to fruition as puke was launched out of every garnished digestive system and dodging pellets of blow chunks revealed itse...

Unity Aryan Mukherjee If one man alone could rule the world, the Earth would be in crumbles. People have always thought that if they alone, push themselves to their very core striving after an outcome, that outcome, one way or another, will be beckoned towards them. However, while their excruciating efforts are at work trying to lift mountains, the rest of society has already finished the task, one hill at a time. Isolation and self-reliance are two concepts drawn close by their borders to us humans, yet crossing the line self sacrifices one of the most crucial concepts people pick up along the way: unity. To me, unity simply means the comfort and expansion of another’s company, and the more expendability you can have with others while still working in unison, the greater and more harmonious the results of such unity will be. Simply put, unity means being perched there alone, in the rain, your own reflection taunting you in a puddle of your own tears, while your friends, your co...

A Helping Hand   Bleak puffs of smoke pumped the air like a gas chamber, as the tumultuous blares and horns of sirens blew up from every direction and the air was made putrid from tufts of vape and cigars. Yep, this is L.A alright , I thought, as I pushed my way through flocks of middle-aged, burly men with more hair on their chins than teeth in their mouths. Suddenly, I was stopped by an aged white man on the sidewalk, his legs scraggly and decrepit from misuse, and a small top hat flipped upside down next to him. As countless tripped to avoid him, I halted, a flash in my eyes as I contemplated what it was like back when I was in this man’s very same shoes, hardly a few rupees to my name on the streets of India, before we worked our ways around some fortune and made it down here to America. In a flash, I fished from spare change from my back pocket, and flung it into the man’s hat before scurrying away with my comrades, who had long abandoned me since. Yet as I departed, I caugh...