Author: rawwhispers

Am I me or you?

Written by Harsahej Mann.


Are you you or them? Am I me or you? What am I, but the experiences I had through you? Am I just another extension cord, leading to you? Is there a me at all? Am I “I” or am I just an artificially induced you?
We do not often realise it, even as it happens. Every second, the edges of our “ self” are grated off by the abrasive gaze of the other . Even as I write this, the grated edges of my “self” may be falling like snowflakes , on the cold hard marble flooring of my room . Whether they are actually falling, I cannot say for as I said we often do not realise it, even while our self is disintegrating into mere dust.

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Green vale and the White Conch shell

Written by Rinchen.


Skalzang’s story chapter 2.


“Oh, but she has no problems… She can’t take things because she’s always had it so easy…always got everything…didn’t expect this from her………she won’t understand…..she thinks she knows everything, when she doesn’t……why’s she so sad…..she doesn’t have problems…..she’s acting crazy…….she just makes things up………… she has no real problems….she has very extreme opinions”
Skalzang just had one question in response, “How do you know?”

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Spiti Valley Project and Iridescence in solitude.

By Aditya.

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By Rinchen.

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Raw Whispers Magazine, edition 2.

View the entire magazine at https://rawwhispers.in

Instagram –https://www.instagram.com/rawwhispers/?hl=en

email written and art submission at rawwhispers@gmail.com

The Brain Wave

-Robert Lianzathang Hangzo

We had just immigrated into our computer. The environment encircling the vicinity starts to lag because of the sloppy Intel processor, which was rather ancient. Inevitably, we managed to realise that we were in a virtual world rather than the ever-
chic reality.

A compressed fog encircled the lawn which was foliated with a dense verdure. Thomas sits right in front of the Common Room’s main door; holding a guitar and hums to the vibrations of the six-stringed instrument.


Lucy, oblivious to her surroundings, lights a cigarette in the heart of the lawns; notwithstanding the brisk wind, she could not feel cold. No sooner did she realize that it was midnight than the fog grew thicker. Three radiant lights complemented the vicinity with their alluring charm. Red, cherry lights in the middle, just adjacent to a tree with the shape of a heart
glittering amidst the lights’ reflection on the heart — the Heart of College.

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