Skip to main content

Unravelling a Journey...

My experiences in Grade 6...

The school swarmed with bustle as thousands of fish dived into its waters. We were first grunting and purring, then we quietened down as tiny boats approached us, driven by competent fishermen with dexterous hands that picked us up and threatened us to put an end to the hullaballoo.  There were thirty seven of us- all in one boat.

With Swaroop Ma’am as our head fisherman, an opportunity to know each other better and to become a part of each others’ lives presented itself to us. As we glided through the waters, an array of fishermen stepped on board, one at each port. They had different skills, different experiences and a horde of things to impart with us and preach to us about. 

We learnt how to count the worms we caught, add them up, compare our finds; we explored what exactly was in the worms we devoured (x% carbohydrates, y% proteins and so on and so forth!!) , we were told of the different species of ourselves we would find around the world-  in Africa (as we swept through the Nile) and in Australia (as we trudged through the Murray) ; we were also hoarded with an encyclopaedia of the origin of our species of fish; we explored two languages- English and French- so as to improve our understanding of the human world.

We encountered two important events on our way. One was our Sports’ Day, in December, when we raced, played and competed, and the other was our Grandparents’ Day, in which we showcased our drama, dance, guitar and percussion skills to our parents. That ‘pounding gill’ feeling of seeing someone so close to the finish line, but then overtaken, that ‘bone crippling’ feeling of being on stage- I will treasure them forever. 

This voyage showed me every aspect of how life must be- but its concluding with a smashing finale doesn’t put me off from greeting another wonderful year!

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Still

A landscape of feathers The smoothest natural canvas, For Nature's painter- Alighting while parading its beauty Before retreating  Into a well-worn easel. Soot-black, rust-grey, brown like tinsel, Folding up and pulling down the covers Over grace, beauty and space, Compounded with distance, Rendering known unknowns, beautiful art. Now mingled with unknown knowns, Streaks of color paint the marauded canvas Differently. Camouflage seems eminent, Unimportance, inadvertent. The marvels Of the aerial world, beget stupor as  They transform into the pedestrian In the realm which is terrestrial. The miracle of flight now a bane, As for food they must forage  With feet, not fly with feathers. I don't want to startle them. It is silence that beckons them to the ground. Startlement stirs them upwards, into the skies, Simpering, whimpering, not soaring and diving- Trespassers on a land where they are weak, Vulnerable- they know they can't win. Aviation is a weapon futile against...

The Tree Says 'Hi'

  The tree says Hi! My balcony was briefly an arboretum. Windswept leaves splayed over the floor  Like champion specimens -parts of a fine species- Careening into a welcoming sanctum That is otherwise empty- save for clothes on stands Or people on feet. When this tree paid its timely visit Luckily, there was nothing, no-one. It probably seized A rare chance- when it was out of anchor, fit and fine, In form- and the tiled floor bare. No sign of occupation. It bore its way past the metal rails that serve to Prevent our falls, but here cushioned the tree's. It rested its somber branches easily on the rail, Which is mighty strong and sturdy, as I can now discern. It snooped its slender branches threateningly over A cauldron of leaves. Green cauldron, green sorcerer. When I woke, there it was, unshakeable, unmovable. Oh, it was mobile alright. It'd have moved of its own will. It was merely enjoying its soiree in a forbidden land, Like we all do. But it just stared at me, with compo...

Clandestine

Sometimes we wait too long, To speak our minds. We let lingering truths linger, We let sporadic clocks, chime.. We allow patient seams to fritter away Like a sparrow does with the timber of the tune That she was shrouded by; shrill words tearing  Ears, each word she utters, careful, today. While the first day it was a free reign, until Some unctuous winds carried to her, criticism. Just the same way as copper utensils in a house Of steel, are anyone's delight, until bronzed,  With wear and use, both are the victims Of sundry needs and glances. Just the same way, some things, Are stowed away in careful pockets Because they have borne a lot of perusing When kept in the open.  Like love. Like hurt. Like envy. Like silence. Trust and truth are two things I can list, That are given, that are l'habitude. I tell the truth because it is, it exists, It is what I perceive, it is what I've lived.. And I keep your trust, because I've learnt That it'll help you keep mine, it wil...