Shishukunj

Who Am I?

Arushi Jain, Class X A

I am the letters of the beautiful words that compose me,

I am found in the souls of the talented singers.

My sole job is to reach the people

And make them calm

And relaxed.

I am, I’ll be and I’ll remain

As my feel remains in the heart of the people

And my words echo in their mind.

By now, you must have understood

That I am a song.

The Hideous Nightmare

Simran Dewani, Class X F

It was just a hideous nightmare,

And yet, I was left in despair.

A dream haunted by a deadly ghost,

Which scared me the most.

Marking time to sleep in the dark,

Ignoring those whining dogs bark.

Then outside it started to rain,

Those noises which made me insane.

My dream was full of dead meat,

Which me skip a heartbeat.

While noises of trees and storms were terrifying me,

‘End the dream! End the dream!’ I kept crying.

Imagining in garments, black as pitch,

The wild and wicked witch.

And finally, I covered myself in my bed,

With a pillow on my head.

If I Were Rain

Rishita Neema, Class VIII A

If I would be a part of the cloud,

I would be mighty and proud.

Stand above all,

Without any hurdles or wall.

But I’d definitely miss,

My allies and the snake’s hiss.

Even the thoughts of ruling seem sour,

Without companions, what a bore!

And when the cloud burst,

It was the end of my thirst,

That moment, that bliss,

When I could come rumbling, tumbling for Mother Earth to kiss.

But when from my dream destination, yards away I flew,

I saw a sight – strange and new,

People running away from me,

Shielding themselves under an umbrella or a tree.

Children sailing paper boats – fun that would’ve been,

That was the scene when,

We were friends, they and me,

Those children are now drinking tea.

But it seems that some of my companions could not forget me so soon,

So they let me trickle down their cheeks,

Some sacred, consoling joy, they have not known,

For a hundred days and million weeks.

I Am A River

Riddhi Singhania, Class X D

I am a river

Ready to explore

The fields and valleys

And lots more.

I am a river

Strong enough

To be able to cut through

Rocks so tough.

I am a river

Eternal forever

No matter what obstructs me

I won’t give up, no, never.

Andrew took a large gasp of breath. He was quick for a man of 6’2’’. Even his six year old son Noah was fast enough to catch up with him. ‘I know a cave around here where they won’t be able to find us,’ said the little boy, ‘I used to come here with my friends.’ He led them there.

It was a disturbingly creepy place but owing to how tired they were, they instantly fell into a trance of sleep. This day had been too much for Noah to assimilate. His mother had been cooking his favourite lasagna when two burly ‘tromokrates’ or terrorists in Greek, had barged into the house and asked for his dad.

Noah knew about his father’s controversial speech at the district elections the other day. He had quickly called his parents and they had used the trap door in the kitchen to escape. In his heart Noah had said a silent goodbye to Abdera.

Village House

Art by Akansha Naneria, X D

Summer Holidays

Vasudha Gupta, Class X D

With a cartload of work for each day,

A ton of assignments,

We bid goodbye for the holiday,

Saying, ‘Have your enjoyment.’

Do you really think we’ll savour this time,

When, for fun, we’re barely left any time?

If we have to work harder, how’s this a break?

These projects after all aren’t a piece of cake!

We get worksheets even on the last day,

‘It’s just one sheet’, they say.

But it’s one for each subject, plus assignments.

At least spare our holidays from this torment!

Dear teachers and parents who worry about our life’s goal,

Remember, all work and no play is not good for the soul.

Please let us, for a while, our childhood savour,

After all, we learn a lot, even from leisure.

Beauty

Kratika Bulani, Class VIII A

Beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder.

Is beautiful Lara,

Or is it Indira?

Is beautiful Mother Teresa,

Or is it Lisa?

Is beautiful Kiran Bedi,

Or Monica Bedi?

Beauty lies in deed,

Which appears in each woman

In the times of need.

Let Me Sprinkle Love

Rishita Neema, Class VIII A

Let me sprinkle love,

On the fierce lands of hate,

Let me bring good luck,

In the dry moments of fate.

Let me nurture those,

Who have a hopeless, gloomy heart,

Let me bring them close,

The ones who have gone far apart.

Let me sow the seeds of diligence,

On the barren, unploughed land,

Let me become the mascot of peace,

Of the war-raging sand.

Let me become happiness,

The smile of every face,

Let me become the unspoken joy of laughter,

That reflects inner beauty and grace.

The Last Route Taken

Mihika Panjwani, Class IX A

Ever thought that the route you take today to your tuition could be the last route you would take in your life? Or, driving to your dance class could cost you an arm or a leg? This isn’t just an imagination but a warning, to all young readers.

The frequency of road accidents has been on a steady rise. And many of these accidents involve students, like you and me. I’ve seen many youngsters showing off stunts on their bikes, on busy roads. safety measures have to be taken. It is time we start abiding by the traffic rules.

In case you have to drive a two-wheeler, be extremely cautious. The next time you start your Scooty with earplugs on, remember this article. Then you’ll choose the route that won’t be your last one!

Author: shish_admin

Who Am I?

Arushi Jain, Class X A

The Hideous Nightmare

Simran Dewani, Class X F

If I Were Rain

Rishita Neema, Class VIII A

I Am A River

Riddhi Singhania, Class X D

A Hurried Goodbye

Kartik Chopra, Class IX F

Village House

Art by Akansha Naneria, X D

Summer Holidays

Vasudha Gupta, Class X D

Beauty

Kratika Bulani, Class VIII A

Let Me Sprinkle Love

Rishita Neema, Class VIII A

The Last Route Taken

Mihika Panjwani, Class IX A

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