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, February 07, 2018

You Don’t Know My Story

Lakshya Somani, Class IX A

I am a soldier but you don’t know my story,
All your eyes can see is my glory.
I have seen days worse than you could have,
I have been there even when you should have.
I am brave, I am bold,
My hands do not open in front of gold.
To money and power, your souls you’ve sold,
But deep in my heart, my integrity I hold.
I have fought wars and seen a lot of blood,
You’ve seen parties and a lot of pubs.
I have witnessed sorrow and felt the pain,
You have danced and enjoyed in the rain.
Don’t think I live my life in vain,
Everything to lose, nothing to gain.
But my heart is dedicated and so is my brain,
Not to just one person but the entire human race,
I fight on the ground, not in space.
I am humble, I am bold,
I am a soldier and my story, now you know.

The Lion

I saw a lion in the woods,
It looked all fierce and crooked.
I thought of running away as soon as I could,
But I don’t know why, long there I stood.
I wondered what was the real story?
Is the lion what it really shows?
Is it just the King of the Jungle, as the world knows?
Then I gazed to the other end,
There lay a hunter in the bend.
He sat there with a shotgun,
His aim was at the little one.
The lion aware of this situation,
Had already lost its patience.
It was angry because as a father,
Someone dared to hurt its world.
Maybe that’s why the lion is fierce,
It just can’t see its family in tears.
That is how I want to be,
Who, in pain his friends, can’t see.
I may not be liked by everyone,
But that’s fine by me as long as my friends are hurt by none.