Shishukunj

A small incident

By Vartika Saraswat, Class IX E

Pooja was coming out of her history class. She saw Ms. Mary in the corridor. Suddenly, two boys rushed in and asked Ms. Mary to come to the playground as fast as she could, something had gone wrong. Pooja also followed them to find out what had happened.

When Pooja reached the playground, she noticed Ms. Mary and some other students looking very upset. One of the students had tears in her eyes. Pooja asked one of the boys standing there what had happened. But he was also as clueless as Pooja.

Soon, the principal Mr. Shankar also arrived at the scene. The boys who had called Ms. Mary told Mr. Shankar that a squirrel had been hit by the ball while the boys were playing football and it had died. Mr. Shankar scolded the boys saying that it was just a small incident and that there was no need to create such confusion over a silly matter.

When Pooja heard Mr. Shankar saying this, she couldn’t help speaking up. She said, “Sir, aren’t we all a part of nature? If a speechless animal has been harmed, why shouldn’t we feel sad? Should we be sympathetic only towards human beings and not towards animals who have as much right to live as any of us?”

Mr. Shankar replied, “You are right my dear. It was a mistake. Sometimes even we adults need these reminders. Thank you.”

Pooja got some of her friends together and with the school’s support, they installed a small fountain near the playground for birds and squirrels. She decided to become an animal activist when she grows up.

Catnip

By Zahabiya Ali, Class XI C

I reached home at 2 ‘O Clock. I couldn’t contain my joy thinking that my wait of two months had ended. I got ready and went downstairs when Hussain and Fatema called me, “It’s all set, the basket is decorated and stuffed with cushions. A cup of milk is ready. We’ll be waiting,” they said. I grinned and left for my drawing class.

My art teacher is the kindest soul and an animal lover. About six months ago, a cat took shelter in her house. Though a street cat, she soon became a pet.

We sit in the workshop, behind her porch, amidst hundreds of paintings, murals, sketches, colours, brushes. The cat would each day survey the class. She would sniff every student’s chair and finally, she’d rest beside my chair.

I have a long and deep love for cats. When I was in Class III, I had bagged the second position in a bookmark making competition and I was awarded a book titled ‘Why cats do that’. That’s when I fell in love with them.

I loved her honey and black fur, I loved her greenish grey, keen, big and dark eyes, I loved the way she’d purr, I loved her steady and measured steps. Somehow I felt that she too loved me.

Once, for a few days she didn’t turn up in the class. When I inquired, my teacher told me, ‘She is a mother now. She gave birth to three kittens’ and added, ‘I won’t be able to take care of all of them. I would be happy if someone adopts them’. I jumped off the chair in excitement. I would certainly give anything to adopt one of them.

But the kittens needed to be fed by their mother. So, I had to wait for two months. I spent this time mostly in convincing my family members. To tell them how much I loved cats was to try and explain them what water tasted like. My dad did agree to an extent. He was okay if I kept the kitten for a day or two. But mom wasn’t so easy to convince.

‘Zahabiya, can you live without me?’

‘No mom. Never. Not at all.’

‘You need me all the time, don’t you?’

‘Yes, mom. You are my mother.’

‘Then how do you expect that little animal to live without its mother?’

‘I’ll be her mother’, I said. End of conversation. Everyone was against me even on the day she was supposed to be brought home. Except of course, my brother and sister, Hussain and Fatema. They too were waiting in earnest to welcome to kitten.

It was 3:50 pm. 10 minutes and the class would be over. But a problem arose. How would I take her home all by myself on a two-wheeler? This problem was solved in no time. My teacher put the kitten in a rattrap, placed it in a bag, handed it to me and offered to come home with me carrying the package in her hand.

At home, my grandma, my aunt and my mom glared at me. But when they saw the kitten, even they couldn’t help but sigh and admire her. I felt relieved. We named her Oreo. Oreo was very scared and kept searching for places to hide. She would not even sit in her basket. We made a tent for her on our balcony.

Everyone was gone, but I stayed there the whole evening to look after her. When she had had a little milk and a biscuit, I was relieved and thought that she was beginning to accept me. She fell asleep and I left with my friends. I returned home at 8 ‘O clock. As I rushed upstairs to meet Oreo, my mother stopped me, ‘Return her back, right now.’

I ran to my room, locked myself in and cried. Tears rolled down my cheeks. My face was red. It was dreadful. They banged at my door. I don’t remember what they were saying, I did not pay heed to any of it. Meanwhile, my dad found the kitten and put her in a tub. He called me and spoke to me. He asked me to accompany him to my teacher’s house with the kitten.

Oreo rushed over to its mother and they both started licking each other. Immense love. They looked at me in despair. Finally, she picked Oreo in her mouth and soon was gone. I felt helpless, shameful, guilty and lonely at the same time.

I know in my heart that if Oreo had been at my home for a few days, it might have worked. On the other hand, I felt that it wasn’t right to separate the kitten from its mother. Today, I only have memories and a photograph of her. I wish I was a catnip, so that she loved me and would have stayed with me forever.

Created by man to destroy man

By Palash Hassanandani, Class X A

What effect do nuclear weapons and bio-weapons have on the world? Yes, they can decimate millions and millions of people.They can destroy cities, states, countries, continents…. the entire world. And yet, every country seems to be proud to possess these.

Man indeed is a selfish creature. Nature has given us so much to relish and what do we give in return? Innocent children, mute animals, life-giving plants, all vulnerable to the whim of man. Even at a small scale, look at all the chemicals that are tested on harmless animals. I say, these chemicals should be tested on those who insult women and kill children.

If we have to take a stand about something, let this be the one. Legends tell us that if something can kill billions, it can also unite billions. Things which divide us can unite us.

Wabi Sabi

By Prachi Palod, Class XI C

There was something about photographs that had fascinated her. She’d go through her collection of photographs, reminiscing her childhood and teenage quite often. Maybe that was why it didn’t come off as a surprise when she finally pursued photography and became a closet photographer, shying away from sharing her work. Being labeled as her best friend, almost everyone wondered and voiced if I had seen her work. I had, of course. It came under the perks of being her best friend. She’d show me pictures of people mourning in seclusion, girls with zits and freckles, men gazing into the void. The pictures screamed for themselves, depicting emotions, a wide range of emotions.

With time, curiosity had gained the best of me. On a particularly cloudy day, we decided to go to a nearby café. It wasn’t easy, still isn’t, for me to go through a day, enduring the lousy human kind without a cup of coffee.

The manager directed us towards the table near the window. Making ourselves comfortable, I placed my order after she had, to the young waiter.

Soaking in the vintage environment that the café had wanted to create, I asked her, “Why is it that you never showcase your talents? You must already know that your photography will earn you fame and money. People are curious to know what hides inside that fancy camera of yours.” I had not meant to sound shallow and worldly, but I had never been the think-before-you-speak person. She looked out of the window, observing people and replied, “You know, back when I was a kid, my mother had written this article on Wabi Sabi.”

I gave her a blank look.

She continued, “It’s a Japanese word understood as ‘a way of living that focuses on finding beauty within the imperfections of life and accepting peacefully the natural cycle of growth and decay.’ She had gotten hold on to this word through some book. I never bothered to know which. But, I swear I tried to unravel the mystery that the word held for me, you can bet, to no avail. I never wanted to be the girl with that ugly pimple or the girl with no parents. I wanted to attain perfection, never realizing that my criteria of perfection just included people’s perspectives and judgments about me. Does that make sense?” She frowned, looking at the window intensely, as if it had all the answers to her questions.

Never bothering for a reply or confirmation, she carried on. “But people like to hang out with pretty people. One can’t ignore the fact that they’ll always befriend beautiful people. That’s the thing, yeah? Marks on a test, likes on your Facebook profile picture, brand tags in your wardrobe, these things don’t define you; what you do does. The books you read, the people you meet, the music you listen to, the goals you have, these things define you as a person. And you aren’t always going to associate with people who love the same popular song that you do. There are always going to be a handful of people who detest it. To them, your choice will be categorized as flawed. And at the same time, these people will find belongingness and peace when with each other because their choices match.

I am yet to fully comprehend this theory of mine and that’s why I click pictures, to capture the imperfect yet flawless moments, to freeze time, to hold on to love and to restore my faith in humanity. And till the time these photographs don’t convince me, how can I convince the world that imperfection is after all beautiful? That it’s okay to stand out, to be different? I want my photography to make people shed off their masks and be who they are. I want them to take receipt of mortality, to adapt to changes and I want the abstract ideas to leave an imprint on their souls.

But I am afraid if I can’t do that for myself, people won’t be able to either. We’re all cowards, aren’t we? Scared of being judged too harshly, battling loneliness and experiencing the feeling of not being pretty enough, smart enough, witty enough. I want my pictures to make people wear their flaws and opinions on their sleeves. And I don’t want to be led down.”

Her voice held passion and eyes, a glint.

It started to rain, the pellets slapping themselves against the window and gradually sliding down. It was then and there that I realized why I was friends with her. Her imperfections blended well with mine. And sometimes that’s just what someone wants to realize. To know that they are not as alone as they might think they are.

A solemn dusk

Art by Aaratrika Chakravorty, Class XI F

Every Cloud Has a Silver lining

By Sanjana Bhachawat, Class XI C

Mr Lawrence, a stout young man was walking down the footpath with hands in his pocket and tears streaming down his cheek which no one could notice because it was night time and pouring cats and dogs. It was that situation when even the weather seems to empathize with the agonized person. He had two oxymoronic features in his life, he was an educated broke.

He had received his third consecutive rejection letter this morning, which apparently was the reason for his sombreness. Rejection after rejection! He could not take it anymore. He cursed god for making him inefficient or rather his bad luck. He had a degree but his personality didn’t seem to please the interviewers. He was like gold without lustre. To top it all up it was the time of recession.

He kept walking aimlessly as he was rendered homeless for not paying his rent for three months.

“You’re all drenched young man”, said a female voice from behind.

Lawrence, startled by the voice, quickly wiped his tears and turned around. It was a middle aged woman with a rubicund visage. He could see her because of the porch light.

“Do you want to share my umbrella?” she questioned.

“No, thank you” replied Mr Lawrence politely.

“Alright then” said the middle aged lady but no sooner had she started walking than he stopped her. “Hang on, can you walk me to the nearby park?” he asked and the lady nodded. “I’m Raven by the way” she introduced herself and further added “Why would you want to visit the park at this hour? I mean shouldn’t you be going home?”

“I would if I had one” Mr. Lawrence replied as if it was no big a deal to not have a home.

“Oh boy! I am so sorry”, sympathized Raven.

“Don’t be! Recession has taken a toll.”

“So you don’t have a job as well?” enquired Raven timidly.

“Of course I don’t.”

“So, what are you going to do now?” Raven questioned.

“Well as of now I just received my third letter of job rejection and I do not have a single penny so…”

“So what? Are you going to steal?” snapped Raven.

“I didn’t say that, it’s just that desperate means cause for desperate measures” argued Mr. Lawrence. “And anyway, at least in prison I will have food and shelter, unlike right now”.

“So? If today you adopt wrong means and tomorrow supposedly you get caught and are sent to prison for a year or so but in the meantime the recession ends and there are ample opportunities in the market, no one will accept you because of your criminal history.” explained Raven in one breath.

“Okay, I agree with you, but what about now? I shall die of starvation and won’t even be alive to see the recession end. Do you have any idea why most of the people steal? Well, not for fun but because of desperate times, they can’t help it.” Mr. Lawrence further argued.

“Okay then, go steal, do it! I won’t tell a soul, but just remember, what is life without salt in it? Only if you can walk from failure to failure with the same enthusiasm will it be called success. Today in the heat of the moment you will go steal but when you regain your senses you will realize what a blunder you have done. Anyway, it’s your life, do what you feel like. I am no one but a mere stranger” Raven concluded the argument.

By that time they had reached the park and it was Raven’s turn to leave. “Alright then, this is it. We part ways now.” Raven said handing him over her umbrella.

Mr. Lawrence astounded by this kind act of Raven asked “won’t you get wet then?”

“I will manage” Raven said and was ready to leave but then Mr. Lawrence started “Ma’am, maybe you are right and I must not give up like this. Who knows what god has planned for me next? I will not steal but strive.” Hearing this Raven turned around to smile at him and started walking away.

The next morning when Mr. Lawrence woke up, he found an ID card lying on the grass. It had Raven’s photo on it and it read “The chief police inpector.”

A Salute

By Aarushi Tulsiyan, Class IX B

A big salute, a loud applause
to the soldiers who are
the pupils of god
For any sacrifice to their beloved country,
Without a moment’s hesitation, they would simply nod.
If there was any war,
these martyrs would run along with their swords.
A big salute, a loud applause.

The soldiers who guard our boundaries
free us from all worry
of the enemies who come to destroy
the fraternity of the country.
Respect the soldiers
They have so many responsibilities on their shoulders
They lay their lives on the border
could anyone be more bolder?

Experience Is Better Than Youth

by Aditya Prakash, Class VIII F

“Old is Gold”. The Youth can never take the place of the old and the experienced. The young generation, though may have knowledge of advanced technology, lacks the experience which is one factor that can turn the tables.

This can also be shown by a simple story:-

There was a minister who went to the King with a proposal that all the old people should be executed because they have lived their life and they do not work anymore. They are using the resources of this country for no good. The King who was also young at the time, agreed to this proposal. All the elderly people were killed. In a small village of that country, lived a young man named Bhoja. He did not kill his old father because he loved him and hid him in his house. He took care of all his needs. After a few years, a terrible famine struck the country. Many died because of starvation. Bhoja and all other young men were helpless. Seeds were also not coming into the town and the land was covered in snow. Bhoja pondered upon the issue for a very long time and finally thought to consult his father for the same. His father advised that he should plough the soil along the road side and heat the snow every day. As his father was experienced, he decided to obey his advice. After about four to five months, the crops of various varieties were covering the roadside. The King learned about this man who succeeded in growing the crops and saving them from starvation and sent for him. Bhoja was produced before the king and he told him everything truthfully about his father. King then asked Bhoja’s father why he advised to plough the land and heat the snow, the reply was that when merchants came to sell the seeds some fell on the roadside. Ploughing would cause the seeds to get inside the land and heating the snow would cause it to melt and the seeds will get water. This way crops will be able to grow. The King was highly impressed and decided that no elderly would be killed.

This story is shows how experience is a mighty weapon. Experience can never be gained in a day. It grows on and always keeps on building till the day of our demise. Therefore, use this day for the best and gain maximum experience. Don’t forget, you have 86400 seconds in a day. So make the best of it and utilize each and every second of your life and always strive to make a difference.

The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho

Reviewed By

Anshul Shrivastava, Class XI F

The classic and the archetypal of Paulo Coelho’s best seller ‘The Alchemist’ opens the doors of your dreams. The erudite author explains four major reasons why a man doesn’t follow his desires.

This book is about a boy who started his journey because he loved to travel. For travelling he became a shepherd, met a wise king, and travelled the whole of Africa in search of an extravagant treasure. In order to fulfil his destiny, he discovers the wonders of the world and learns the language of the soul.

The book depicts a thought; an idea of ‘Maktub’ an Arabic word meaning, ‘It’s written’ and shows that for a dream, valour and desire are the two most salient factors.

It enlightens that desert is not a barren land but the most beautiful place if aptly observed. Whether it be a boy or a man, all can learn things in their own manner; They just need to follow the ‘omens’ set by the almighty for them.

Lastly, we are all part of a soul, the world’s soul, and all beings are the same. The language is simple with a deeper meaning. It’s a heavy book, not if you weigh it by a machine but by your perception. After this you feel untameable and this inception pervades.