The Old Me

Apologies for staying back..!

We were all busy with our own stuffs. Well it’s nice Runaisa came up with something new.. 🙂

Go through it and tell us how you felt.


       THE OLD ME


Peeping into the days to come,

My heart beats for that day.

It was years, I have been waiting.

Yet I feel that hold from my back!


When life hides my future behind a veil,

And I turn to a warrior

On life’s chess board ,

I feel the wind blowing fast

The skies turning dark

And the waves raising high !


I knew my journey was to the land of rains,

Where freedom renove my shattered heart!

When dreams turn real,

And the veil slowly moves….

I will miss being that old me!

God’s own country

We’re back..!

Now it’s Hana P.S.’s turn. She was a good speaker and took part in a press conference held in our school. Results were amazing..! But this time, she is to show you another of her many talents-Photography.Image 





Wasn’t that great?! How did you feel..? Tell us.. 🙂

When the Clock Struck Five

        Story by Thasneem A.

 (Thasneem is blessed with excellent creative skills. Her writing tasks have been unique due to the brilliant use of imagination in them. She was the Head Girl during the academic year.)       

                       Anne was really busy with the project she had to complete within that period, when her Arts teacher came in. ‘May I have your attention please’, said the teacher. ‘Ha… you may have it’, said Anne as she was searching for her pencil. ‘There is an inter-school drawing competition’, the teacher said, ‘to be held at the Esebelia Art Gallery tomorrow evening at 5:30pm. Each school can be represented by two of its students. From our school too, we need two. Those interested may raise their hands’. Almost ten hands went up.  When the teacher noticed Anne’s hand missing, she asked, ‘Why Anne? Aren’t you interested? You draw really well, right?’

           ‘Well, you see Ma’am, am really busy these days. I don’t think I would be able to participate’, she prevaricated. ‘Oh Anne, you need not practise anything. All you have to do is go there on time and draw the kind of picture they ask you to.’ ‘But Ma’am…’, she cried. ‘Please Anne, if you win, and I’m sure you will, it won’t just be a matter of pride for yourself, but for the school too’, said the teacher in a polite manner. She was not ready to accept anything all of a sudden. That was her conduct. She wanted others to press her and ask her on and on. ‘Just think about it’, said the teacher and went.

           If none were there, Anne would have jumped up high, for such were her feelings then. Inter-school competitions were not bad after all. You get a bunch of certificates and trophies if you win. And she was sure to win.

           She reached home earlier than usual, for she was running all the way with joy. ‘Mummy! Mummy! This is the luckiest day in my life..!’, she said throwing her bag away. ‘Oh.. Is it?’ asked her mother, without paying much attention. ‘Yes Mom’. And she narrated the whole thing exaggerating now and then. ‘And you know Mom, the teacher almost touched my feet, requesting. Well, she was lucky because I was wearing my new shoes. Or else her hand would have turned muddy’, she snickered.

          That night was a restless one for Anne. She drew and drew until all her pink papers were over. She had neither her lunch nor her dinner that day. ‘They would be amazed to see my drawing. And they would be stunned to know that am just 10 years old. And…’, she murmured to herself. What would I draw? What would be the topic? Will there be enough place for me to keep my things? – these were all thoughts that came to her mind. Anyway, she had to go to bed early, or else she would not be able to get up on time.

        Her mother was shocked to see Anne awake when she got up at 6:00am the next day. That was Anne’s passionate sleeping time and her mother used to struggle to wake her up. ‘Why so early Anne?’, asked her mother. ‘You don’t seem to know more about this competition, Mom. It needs practice. And that’s what I am doing here’, she said huffily.

         When she was having her breakfast she asked her father, ‘Do you have any idea where the Esebelia Art Gallery is? You won’t, am sure. After all, you only know to reprimand your boss and to cook pasta, which Mom taught you yesterday. Nothing else…!’ She swallowed a big piece of bread and said,’ You ought to learn it anyhow, for you have to drop me there today evening. I have things to do’. Her father could barely control his temper. The first time in his life to be humiliated in front of a small girl! ‘And why on earth should I drop you there, huh?’, he grunted. ‘I have my competition there’, she explained briefly and got up.

           That day till afternoon she was drawing, for she felt she was running out of practice, which according to her was of no use though. And at last she got up when the clock struck four. She started dressing then. She chose her second best frock and had it on.

            But she was crestfallen for she did not get any call from her teacher or her friends. That was strange. She was one of those representing their school and they don’t even care to call and inquire about her. Ha… I will make them pay for this once I win, she swore.

            She rushed to her father’s room and told him to drop her. She ran out of her house and got into the car and started playing her favourite song ‘Bobby smile’s baby cries’. Her father too got in and off they went.

            When they reached Esebelia Art Gallery she could hardly hold her breath. It was just… fantastic…! She saw the trophies too. They were colossal. Even Uncle Jack would not be able to lift it up, she thought. She got out of the car and slammed the door, leaving her poor father almost ready to explode.

            She straightaway went into the Gallery and saw an invigilator guiding the participants. Little did she know.  She ran to her and asked almost politely, ‘Er… Do you know where I should go?’. ‘Your name please’, the woman asked. ‘Oh sorry… I’m Anne. Anne Jones. Well at home they call me Anne and at school they…’, ‘Well that’s all I need’, the woman interrupted. ‘Now let me see… Hmm… Well… But… I don’t see your name here. Are you sure you are a participant?’, asked the woman, mystified. ‘Yea of course am there. My teacher implored with all her might yesterday’, said Anne, who turned a bit nervous. Her heart throbbed.

         The wall clock struck five and she saw Laurie, her classmate, running towards her, calling out, ‘Hey Nanny…’. Anne turned to the woman and said, ‘Well, that’s what they call me at school’. Laurie was panting when she reached Anne. ‘See, you are not participating Nanny… Ma’am said that you weren’t interested and she chose me and Liza for this. You can go back. Bye’, said Laurie and sped off. ‘You see dear, this place today is just open for participants. Methinks you should have to go back. Sorry’, said the woman and guided Anne to where she really had to go.

The Spring in Their Hearts

It’s Linshidas turn. Know more about her through her own words:

Experiences have taught me many lessons. And it is the power of experiences that makes my pen move.
Childishness is a quality I haven’t yet lost and I am greatly interested to play with kids. I love someone praising me because it is the only way for me to feel taller 😉
Also I love humour and so, Charlie Chaplin is my hero – 
As a Little God,
I knew their hearts.
Words tied them closer.
Their words, feelings and
what their hearts meant….
I knew them all.
He loved her and
She loved him.
But I wonder why 
they weren’t opening 
the doors of their 
hearts for each other!
They might have been afraid, so
One didn’t want to lose
the other with the shocking, 
tragic surprise!
So, hiding all the uncontrollable Love, 
They remained mere FRIENDS.
My Love Birds
chatted and chatted 
day in, day out,
No food, no studies
No wonder
their grades came down
like the World Trade Center.
Waiting for her was his drug,
dreaming about him was her hobby.
For me, they became 
the Friends in Love!
Days passed
Seconds ran fast,
Minutes walked, and,
Hours crawled behind them.
Both of them sacrificed much
to have a peaceful future.
At last my little girl
knocked at the door of his heart…
And found that it was 
automatically opening for her!
She entered and the doors closed..{forever 😉 }
He was well ready and fully prepared
to welcome her.
She happily enjoyed floating
in the river of his love.
Fights, misunderstandings, joy,
sharing hearts, secrets
(and of course) a bit of romance
Love is both sweet and bitter!
I know they shall be 
thankful to me,
as I’m the one who
*made them meet each other,
*made them closer
*made them fall in love
And… in future…
Shall make them a loving man and wife!! 😉
тнє ρєσρℓє ωнσ ℓαυgн тнє мσѕт, нανє єχρєяιєη¢є∂ тнє мσѕт ραιη..
.♥. ┼┴•• L¡ñ§h¡då Shîrìñ ••┼┴♥.

Just a Girl

I don’t think any preface is required for this piece of poetry. Deeply moved by the Delhi incident, Runaisa has expressed her feelings thus…

She is a girl,
whom you call the weakest.
You torture, abuse and disrespect her
Still she rarely complains.
She is the one who cries to God
For leaving her in your hands.

You are none other than
The unsympathetic, cruel brutal society.
You never think that she herself
Is your daughter, sister, wife, and mother!

I call you the most cursed society that ever existed
Because we have never seen
Such savagery and malice.

Let a new generation come up
where the paths of women
are paved with rose petals
and let not a single man
lustfully stare at her.

The world has not ended
So I am going to fight back
Because I am one among them
whom you call

That’s me…

P1180138Shibila Nargees says, “Silver is my favourite colour, and ice-cream, my favourite food. To me there is nothing more gratifying than dancing and listening to songs. I believe in myself and aspire to be a doctor one day.

Here is a poem my Shibila.

P1100192I am unpredictable
And may surprise and hurt you
With my shades, twists
And the various stages.

Without them I am plain, boring.
So let it all be there.
They make me ‘me’,
Without them I am lifeless.

Though you may feel I am rude
I am so simple.
Do love me
In both grief and gaiety.

Little Wishes

This time we will go for a poem by Runaisa. She likes to express herself through thoughtful verses. Even routine class discussions and activities get reflected in her poems. Hope you enjoy this one.

Sitting in the crowded classroom
Near my silent friends,
I feel the world so big
Without anyone to talk to me.

People come and go
Without telling me a word.
I wish God created someone
For me to talk!

I gaze up the ceiling
Of the world of studies,
Hoping they would know me.
Minutes pass like hours,
And seconds, like minutes
Sadly smiling at me.

Now I feel God understands
What I said –
All I need from you is
Just a smile!


Art by Asna

This  inaugural post is by one of the budding artists of the class, Aysha Asna B.V. who is very passionate about drawing, painting and crafts. She has conducted art exhibitions in the school and has participated in several drawing competitions. The illustrations in her literature notebook are apt proofs to her artistic skills.

Here we feature two of her works using crayons.