The Confection

My last post before I disappear into the web of books. Owing to my exams (starting from 10th of September, i.e. tomorrow) I'll be back with another creation on 21st...not before that. So till then here's wishing you all the best of days as I sign off with a poem on a mosque in Aligarh, U.P, India.

I turned around and I could see

The sublime beauty

Of the minarets, of the white dome

Perhaps, carved from limestone

Hiding behind the trees

It seemed to cease

Revealing its wondrous beauty

Like a shy bride, doing her duty

Veiling itself from the passers- by

Crouching down yet reaching high

The mosque was majestic and so grand

It really made me stand

For hours watching it in awe

I marveled at the sight and to God I bowed

When the call for prayer from it was heard

Everything went still...nothing stirred...

The mosque in AMU Campus.

A Tribute to my teachers

It's that time of the year when students all over India gear up to pay tribute to their teachers...It's 5th of September which means teachers' day. With beautiful cards, flowers and gifts students really manage to make their teachers happy. Various schools all over India hold functions to commemorate the day which happens to be the birth anniversary of Dr. S. Radhakrishnan, a great teacher. Our school too celebrated the day with great gusto. Being in 11th standard I was given the charge of class 9th- F (I was supposed to teach). I wish to share my experiences later on.  As of now, here's a poem that I wrote long back(in 7th or 8th std)....I would like to dedicate this one to all of my wonderful teachers.

TEACHERS

Created for inspirations, molded from wisdom,

They play the most important part in God’s great kingdom.

They took the initiative to teach the world,

And so the concept of schooling was unfurled.

The art of sharing embedded in them,

The example of the examples, a sparkling gem.

I bow to them, to my teachers.

Since ages, they have quenched the thirst of knowledge seekers.

Patience is what they have in abundance.

After years and years hence,

From them, I may be far away,

But their teachings will forever stay.

Had it not been for the teachers, how the world would have been

What’s right and what’s wrong, we wouldn’t have seen.

If you want to thank them, make them feel proud of you.

Follow their instructions in every work you do.

A teacher is really God’s greatest creation,

Up to them I look, I look with admiration.

Seen here in the picture are some of my teachers

The World in a Raindrop

Dangling from the rim of a leaf

Was a raindrop with a sublime sheen

Resplendently radiating a thousand rays

Midst the thick mist and haze

I gazed at it and I could see

A face which could surely be me

And then I saw the leaves and the walls

Though they were big, they looked so small

The speeding cyclist, the open windows

The shining sun, the splendid rainbow

The tilted roofs, the towering chimney

The blooming flowers, the buzzing honey bee

The floating clouds, the wet benches

The little birds, the broken fences

The grazing cattle, the vast meadows

The merry children, the lonely rose

The sleeping dogs, the billowing skirts

The honking vehicles, the trail of dust

I could see all things short and tall

All the world, contained in a raindrop so very small!

An Expanse of Sand

As far as the eyes could see

Lay a vast expanse of glittering sand

Which would remain so till eternity

Trod upon by a thousand.

Not a drop of water, no sign of life

A mirage in the distance, tricking the eyes

To survive in this ‘furnace’, one has to strive

With the sun blazing low, not up high.

Billowing the sand like a woman’s skirt

The sand storm blows, hot n harsh

No creature creeps from the bowels of the earth

Lying below the sand in the damp, cool marsh

As the last visible drop evaporates

And the white ball lowers itself all the more

With no vestiges of the wrinkled dry dates

The place glows red and temperatures soar... 

The School Bell Is Never Heard

Trrring...And the school bell rings piercing through the gossips and giggles of the girls and the howls of the boys of the school. Yet...yet for a reason (still being researched), it seems to penetrate just the ears of the teachers and well...the hard concrete walls, the lush green trees, the blooming flowers and anything else in the world except for the students. Perhaps, their minds are preoccupied with thoughts of better significance. Oh! And who can deny, the brittle minds are so busy. Who takes care of the friends being hurt if you leave them abruptly sans a warm farewell? Who takes care of that lonely, helpless ball that dribbles off to a corner, if not placed gingerly back on its stand? Who takes care of the trailing hot gossip dripping with sweet syrup of excitement which if not fully heard haunts the students in all the rest of the classes? Ah! It’s that small mind which cramps all of this and much more in its limited realms. Then well...how can anyone expect that brain to register the harsh ringing of that dreaded school bell? How very cruel of anyone to expect the ever busy mind to pay heed to those irritating summons of the school bell. While walking down the hallowed corridors of the school, or while taking a stroll round the school garden, or even while gossiping endlessly with the girls, or maybe while enjoying a stolen bite from the lunch box...the school bell is never heard!!