Why this blog?

The nascent and fresh minds of students are so creatively inclined that they have the ability to bring into being a universe of their own. They are little tyros who would, with time, unfold into verves, momentum or sensations of various creative dimensions. A chalk sculptor, a clay artist, an amateur painter of Madhubani, Warli, a dabbler of still life, a budding poet, a tenderfoot writer or a fledgling lyricist – one gets all varieties of creatively-aligned students covered in a seemingly dilettantish peel. We at Shishukunj aspire to provide a humble platform to all such potentials to smatter around and mature into the perfection that they are seeking to epitomize or become! This blog is thus an endeavor that would allow all Shishyans to just play around with their latent artistic caliber and enjoy the bliss of a “BRAVO” from known and unknown quarters.

Wednesday, July 18, 2018

The Lost Child

(Inspired by Mulk Raj Anand’s short story)
Tamanna Chhabra, Class IX C
The man moved about among the people in the fair looking for the child’s parents. Just then the ground started shaking. Everyone started to run helter-skelter. The severe earthquake left only death and destruction in its wake.
In the commotion, the child got injured and the man thought it better to take him home. He thought there was little chance of the parents surviving the earthquake.
The child’s parents, who had taken shelter near a sweet shop, kept searching for their child and eventually returned home having given up any hope of finding him.
When the child’s condition improved, the man explained everything to him and calmed him. He decided to bring that child up. Years went by and the child grew up to be a police officer.
One night some thievers broke into the old parents’ house and stole everything they had. They went to the police station to file a complaint. The young man, the newly appointed police officer, recognized his parents. The parents hugged their lost child and thanked the man for taking care of him. In the form of their son, they had got everything back.

Sneha Sanotia, Class IX C
The man moved about among the people in the fair looking for the child’s parents. Together, they spent three hours under the scorching sun but could not locate the child’s parents. It was evening and the man was exhausted. He decided to take the child to his house. He gave him milk and cookies and switched the radio on, hoping there would be some mention of the child’s parents.
The next morning, the man woke up with a start to hear loud sounds coming from the room next door. He was relieved to see the boy in a good mood and playing in front of the mirror. Suddenly, something struck him as very odd. He could not see the boy’s reflection in the mirror!
He shook the boy and asked him what was happening. The boy said nothing, there was just a grin on his face. Five years ago, in the same village fair, the child had died after getting separated from his parents.

Sanjana Goyal, Class IX C
Rahul got ready quickly. He put on his black suit and cap and read the details of the mission once again. He came out of his apartment and got into his yellow car and looked at a photograph of his younger self. It brought painful memories of the past, getting lost in the fair, failing to find his parents… What he had become today, he owed completely to the man, who was also his boss now.
He reached the destination, parked his car and got out of it. He went to the back of the house. He waited till the lights inside the house went off.
Years of training had given him the skill to open doors and move about without making a sound. He entered the bedroom and saw his targets. He had never failed in any mission. This time was not going to be any different.
As he turned to leave with yet another success under his belt, a photo frame caught his eye. His legs gave away and he broke down, unable to hold back his tears, ‘What have I done! Mother, father, what have I done!”

Monday, July 16, 2018

Realising the Ridiculing Reality

Adi Dantre, Class XI C

Suddenly I realize the ridiculing reality,
Not childhood, nor adulthood, nor complete maturity,
When the greed for more is sunk in simplicity,
When the fiber of morality is dipped in insanity,
That is realizing the ridiculing reality.

You reach a place, you don’t know where,
The life you love is in despair,
A breeze of sudden care,
Warns, you that you must prepare,
To gain you must risk,
To love you must care and to step you must dare.

After showing all this unworthy care,
You roll down like a snare,
Yet you see a helping hand,
In this treacherous land,
A voice inside you demands reason,
Why this sudden mist of treason?
Catching hold would save my life,
Or would it put me on the edge of a knife?

Two hands meet to save one another,
What is felt, is a soft cover,
A cover, a cloud of blistering insanity,
Garnished with disemboweled morality,
Only to reveal the ridiculing reality. 

Friday, July 06, 2018

Fire

Mahika Khandelwal, Class IX C

Orange and yellow
Flames, they flicker.
Casting an orange glow all around.
While man warms his feet sitting beside it on the ground.
Sometimes it provides light,
So that we can see in the night.
Sometimes it protects,
From the creatures of the night.
But somewhere it unleashes its rage,
Trapping beings in a fiery cage,
Burning down all in its way.
One must wonder how can fire,
At the same time build yet burn.
But my dear, I must say,
This is mother nature’s way.

Poojal Singhai, Class IX C

Fire, the most feared element of life.
Don’t kill the good old man’s wife!
She is trapped in her ignited house,
And the thing which is on fire,
Is the the good old man’s spouse.

She runs without thinking,
Her eyes are not even blinking.
Now her life is at stake,
Only because of a careless mistake.

Wednesday, July 04, 2018

My School Promise

Parina Jain, Class VIII A
Each day I’ll do my best,
I won’t do any less.
I will get good marks in my test,
And won’t do any mess.
My writing will be neat,
And my work will always be complete.
My school promise I’ll never forget, I bet.


School
Parina Jain, Class VIII A
School is a place where we learn 
So that in future we can earn 
Many friends have you make 
And then invite them on the day you cut your cake. 
Sometimes you get scolded by the teachers 
It sometimes makes you feel bad 
But it is give you a lesson or make you realize your mistake
And not to make you sad.
Exams are like horrors!
It’s like the question paper is your enemy,
And you are the warriors.
Anyway, learning in school makes you wise,
School days are so fun and nice.

Monday, July 02, 2018

And Then We Talk About Equality

Kashika Jain, Class XI
Is it sensible to segregate people on the basis of their looks – I mean, ‘ugly’ looking people from the mainstream? I believe we can’t justify calling ourselves civilized while we gradually ignore, insult, hurt, punish and seclude people from the mainstream. It pains me to see how people humiliate those who are fat, short, suffering from leukoderma or even those with acne.
Recently, in the bus, I came across an incident where a girl, who was very fat, sat alone on her seat, crying. Apparently, the other girls and boys in the bus had teased her about her weight and were laughing at her. She grabbed her bag tightly upon her lap and tried to ignore while looking out of the window.
It’s not just that her eyes dropped tears, but somewhere inside her, her heart had bled. For it was stabbed for no reason. For it was trampled upon for no cause. She felt as if she was all alone. Her heart had suffered an injury, a damage without repair. She was lost somewhere, or probably we had lost her forever.
Have you ever thought what we do to their self-esteem when we laugh at them? They start questioning themselves, their own abilities. They start feeling that it is their mistake that they have leukoderma or an acne problem or are short. But do you know what, it is not their mistake. It is natural or genetic. But people do not sit with them, talk to them or work with them.
Don’t cut them off or set them apart. Try to connect with them, see their qualities and their beauty. I assure you that even once if you talk to these people, you will start developing a kinship and will soon realize that they are no different from you.

Friday, June 29, 2018

The Path of Life

Lakshya Somani, Class X A

At the advent of spring,
in adherence to him,
I committed a sin,
in hopes I could win.
I realise my fault, left in anguish.
I’ve broken the wall, forgotten every wish.
My greed I couldn’t appease,
instead I was deceived,
thought  I could achieve it all,
I wasn’t ready for the fall.
And now the pile of failures is tall.
This life is arcane, I’m trying to decipher,
instead of dawdling, I’m trying to clear.
Obscure secrets, invisible to the eye,
cryptic in nature, full of surprise.
As I walk on this enigmatic path,
my destination is one to exalt.
Doubtful fidelity in my heart,
coming together or falling apart?
Impeccable, my vision,
steers clear through the skies,
While god tests my mettle and my temerity,
confused, am I succeeding or leading to my own demise.

Wednesday, June 27, 2018

Monsoon

Naqiya Barnagarwala, Class VIII B

I love the monsoon showers
In the daily hours 
In them I love to play
May they never end, I pray.

In the monsoon I love to dance
And the city looks lovely
When to it we glance
It starts with the light and sound show
Noisy thundering and lightnings glow.

In the monsoon I love to see the rainbow
As it comes and goes 
It is very beautiful to view 
God's precious gift
And has many more to give you!