Pooja Mukandan

THIS IS THE FIRST TIME IVE WRITTEN ANYTHING....SO ITS FAR FROM THE REST OF THE ARTICLES, POEMS ETC. THAT HAVE BEEN PUT UP!!! 
PLEASE BEAR WID ME!!! MY VOCAB ISNT AS HIGH!!!


HUMPTY DUMPTY (version of 2010)


HUMPTY DUMPTY SAT ON THE WALL..
HUMPTY DUMPTY HAD A GREAT FALL..


HE FELL ON HIS PAUNCH
BOUNCED UP AND DOWN
FLEW UP ABOVE
AND FELL BACK ON THE GROUND!!!


HE WAS HURT REAL BAD
HE WAS IN ALOT OF PAIN
BUT, HE KNOW NO MATTER WHAT
HE HAD TO GET UP AGAIN!!!


HE BATTLED AND FOUGHT
TRIED WID A HUFF
THE JOURNEY SEEMED ENDLESS,VERY TOUGH!!!


SLOWLY AND STEADILY
HE WAS GETTIN THERE
NOW HE WAS SURE HE COULD DO IT
WITHOUT A SCARE!!!


HE WENT ON AND ON
AND NEVER GAVE UP
GETTING CLOSER AND CLOSER
STILL GOING STRONG!!!


FINALLY!! HUMPTY WAS BACK ON HIS FEET
STANDING UPRIGHT, IN VICTORY!!!


HUMPTY DUMPTY JUMPED BACK ON THE WALL
FEELING PROUD OF HIMSELF,HAPPY AND TALL!!!


THE MORAL OF THE STORY
IS VERY SIMPLE, SOMETIMES
LIFE CAN BE HARSH
A NEVER ENDING STRUGGLE!!!


REMEMBER,YOU WILL ALWAYS
FIND A WAY
DO WHATEVER IT TAKES
TO MAKE IT THERE!!!


KEEP TRYING YOUR BEST
UNTIL THE VERY END.....
ALL YOU NEED.... IS THE WILL!!!!

Riccu Varghese

Pain, agony, melancholy and suffering,

Are what my bare heart echoes.

The sun shines all over, except in me,

I’m all alone, living an uncared life.

Touch your gentle heart just the once,

You would know what I go through.

Sometimes I wonder why not end it all,

But only for the three divine virtues.

You are not cruel, neither are you cold.

If only you open those benign eyes,

And be witness to the desolation I live.

Will you realize I have only cared.

Neha Malhotra

Following is the reproduction of an assignment we were given in one of the creative writing sessions. We were asked to list 5 things we’ve learnt.

I’ve learnt:

1.     I’ve learnt to eat out if my Dad volunteers to cook.

2.     I’ve learnt that an overdose of American soaps, Hollywood films and chick-literature can completely mess up an Indian woman’s idea of a man.

3.     I’ve learnt that individuals are far more fascinating than mindless groups with herd mentalities.

4.     I’ve learnt that the most predictable thing about Bombay rains is its unpredictability.

5.     I’ve learnt that sometimes it is important for things to end, people to go and for goodbyes to happen. 

Zoha Mahdi

Actually...
Somehow nothing is inspiring me at the moment  to pen down thoughts upon. One fact which did repulse me was that the beggars here don't put in any efforts to look needy in order to gain sympathy of the crowd passing by. You find fatsos, perfectly fine fellows asking for monetary help; wish I could tell them that "look miserable" or put in the efforts to have a shocking or a ghastly facad and perhaps you might see change ringing in!! The second thing is my concern for the kids selling trinkets in the locals, hope there is some organization backing or facilitating them with their basic requirements, they really go about earning the tenners very sincerely. Bomland (Bombay/ Mumbai for me) is a great experience which gets to you in an averse way at times as well.

Amal Shah

Inevitability…

At times I wonder what could have been,

Pondering over the sheer futility,

The sheer amazement over things I’ve seen,

Never cease to question my credibility…

Sometimes I ponder, is it worth the pain,

Pain and confusion, abundance galore,

My heart keeps bleeding again and again,

Continues to cause a constant furore…

My beliefs are changed, my faith does totter,

Chipping away at my pride and prestige,

Things continue to crumble and cause me a bother,

Until there’s nothing but a mere vestige…

I question myself, if it will ever change,

Then reiterate that my life is in vain,

Difficulties continue to hover in the range,

Proving to me, that I have nothing to gain…

Depression prevails, I’m disconsolate,

Overcoming it is a vague probability,

Until then, my life I commemorate,

Knowing what awaits me is inevitability…

Akshant Dhruvraj

At the End of Infinity

Remember me, I am what you left behind

I am the one that was waiting along the way

Screaming silently my name, and saying I am fine.

Questioning myself in the name of your faulty religion

Finding your follies and making them mine

I am that which you cannot contend with, and yours to fool

Stupid and ignorant, I am what you will bend and twist to your rules

Me, a demigod whose power is terrible but always misguided

I am who you promise utopia in the name of sacrifice

The face of your spears, who preaches a vice

I am the bastard child of anger and apathy

Who was standing within your ranks, waiting to be used

The one you taught only the religion of hate, the final weapon that you loosed

Surrounded by my mind, and your tainted ideas in which I was suffused.

I have come back to claim my much procrastinated revenge

I am the face of the misguided youth

The cannon fodder that was your muse

Your murderer, the one that killed with indifference

Do you remember me now, you so called vassals of a greater god?

Do you fear me my words and my many weapons?

Quake in your boots holy man, pray to your lord

And now read my thoughts and hear my voice

Preach your anger, hate and malice

Your gibberish that is nothing but a grating noise

Know this from now and to infinity your ideas will live on

Destroying the world like an everlasting song

You will baptize yourself in the vice that you find satiating

But at the end of it all, at the end of infinity, I‘ll be waiting.

  

Vaishnavi Lakshman

9,952 years of solitude

You ever noticed how a tree never seems to make mistakes, except probably when one of its branches falls on some poor souls head , who was walking under its shade blissfully unaware of the tragedy falling from up above. This mistake however, is debatable you see. A tragedy such as this could have occurred due to several circumstances none of which being the trees fault, perhaps the wind god up above blew his nose too hard , thus , caused a rushing wind to knock off the tree’s branch. Perhaps, Termites living on the tree woke up one day and found out that shifting from a tree bark to a tree branch diet would make them look a lot less uglier/creepier/gross-ier .Whatever the strange case maybe, point being ‘Trees do not make mistakes’. Everything about a tree seems to function perfectly, from bearing fruits to flowers, to shedding its green leaves in the appropriate season. This perfect tree is utilized by nature’s most wondrous creations, from a single celled protozoan to a complex primate such as you and me. However, the death of this life giver tree is not really a “big deal” for me or most of the 6.6 billion humans living on the face of this earth.  I don’t remember anyone mourn for a dead tree. Heck! I don’t remember myself even remembering a tree up till this moment of course. There is this strange perfection of a tree which makes it seem so solitary. Whether it’s a tree growing in an orchard, by the road, or beside a house, there is a sense of silent solitude that surrounds it. I am not really a Joyce Kilmer fan make no mistake, but as this devout catholic poet once wrote “Only God can make a tree”. A tree so flawless, that it has nothing to say to the lesser mortal world around it. A tree which is so inconsequential, yet important. So perfect, yet so alone. That tree in silence gives. That one single tree on a vast empty plain grows.