Scrawls and Scribbles.

REVATHY MENON
XII A

You look at my words,
And seeing them in verse,
You ask me why I write, why
I must fill the world with more
Emotion than it can process, and
Burden  it with yet more cryptic
Words and metaphors that
(Maybe) no one understands. Why,
Oh why, must I put out my fickle beliefs
And whimsical thoughts, using my
Freedom of expression, just for
Others to ignore, or misunderstand,
Or worse- misquote? You think
I have a wound to heal, and cuts
That bleed, and that's why I turn
To paper and ink.
But how do I explain that writing
Is not just cathartic? How do I
Explain to you that writing, to me,
Is not about the echoes of my words
In unknown minds and distant
Hearts? That it is more about
The subtle echoes of my random
Expressions in the scrawl of
My hand, and the scribbles in ink?
And that I have an unexplainable
Belief that the paper I
Scribble on, and the ink I
Scrawl with, somehow, just
Somehow, understand and
Comprehend my incoherent
Words and hidden emotions
That I myself fail
To understand.
 

Innocent Faces, Twisted Minds

SREYASHI DEY
CLASS 12 SECTION C


In Russia lives a nine-year-old girl called Kristina Pimenova who has been
labelled 'the youngest supermodel' and 'the most beautiful girl in the
world'. She is the daughter of model Glikeriya Pimenova and Russian
footballer Ruslan Pimenov. With long honey-blonde hair, sparkling blue eyes
and a pretty face, Kristina’s appearance is indeed stunning.

Having inherited almost-perfect genes which make her so pretty,
she has been modelling since the age of three. She has already been the
face of major companies like Armani, Benetton, Roberto Cavalli, Vogue, and
many more. Kristina is also a rhythmic gymnast.

Kristina’s mother regularly posts pictures of Kristina on various social
networking sites – Facebook, Instagram and Twitter. Most of these snaps are candid pictures, taken all throughout the day, displaying her various moods and her various attires. Now, some of these photos have become the source of immense criticism, with people accusing her of exposing her sexuality
and describing her poses as ‘adult’. Her pictures have been subject to
comments such as ‘babe’ and ‘long legs’.

Yes, she has pictures with her legs exposed, but what is so wrong in that?
This is what the world has become now where a little girl is being subject
to such crude criticism. She does not even post her pictures herself.
Mentalities of people have become so crooked these days that they accuse a
girl, who is not even pubescent, of sexualising herself.

Paedophilia is a psychiatric disorder in which an adult or older adolescent
is attracted to prepubescent children, generally of eleven years of age, or
younger. However, the percentage of occurrence of this disorder is quite
low. Yet, now it seems that the whole world is being induced with
paedophilia, otherwise, why would a little girl be subject to such remarks?

Thankfully, Kristina does not get to see these remarks as her mother manages
her social networking accounts. Her mother defends her and has remarked: “I
think any criticism about it is the fruit of a sick imagination. I think
people who post something like this have serious psychological problems.”
Kristina’s mother is right, of course.

When Kristina is blessed with such beauty, it is normal that her mother
would want to showcase it. The world is full of paedophiles. People cannot
stand beauty in others. As soon as these paedophiles see Kristina’s pictures
they start ogling them. Ogling a nine-year-old’s photograph! Twisted human
psychology knows no bounds.

Now, imagine Kristina reading these comments. Will she ever want to wear
shorts again? Would she ever want to take photographs of herself? She will
want to stop showcasing her beauty, maybe even stop modelling. As a result,
her life will be torn down. Hence we can imagine how this criticism can
destroy her. Why would one want to destroy a little girl? The answer –
people are jealous of beauty in others. They are paedophiles and haters.

Some have also criticised Kristina’s life saying that being enrolled in the
glam world from a very young age, she does not get to lead a normal, down
to earth life. This accusation is false though since she leads a very
normal life, having only three to four photo sessions a month. Those days
are like a holiday for her and she really enjoys herself.  Some have
commented that maybe her mother got her into modelling simply to make money
for herself. At this Kristina’s mother said, “I am here to tell you that we
have enough money, that Kristina has a happy childhood - and that I have an
honours degree from a university, so I don't think these accusations stick.'

This criticism has to stop, and now. Kristina is a very young, beautiful
little girl doing something she enjoys. There are always haters who do
nothing better than try and tear down other people's lives. However, this is just
wrong. This little girl does not deserve the criticism that she gets simply
for being extremely pretty, getting her photographs clicked and having a career in modelling at such a young age. These paedophiles should wipe their brains clean so that
all these all these spots of meanness and crudeness are washed away.

The Summer Breeze

HARSHITA SRIVASTAVA

CLASS 12 SECTION A

The summer breeze blows as she stands,
On the sea shore.
Light blue waters,
Meeting the golden horizon.
A magenta piece of cloth,
Adorning her beautiful body,
Dancing with the wind,
On that midsummer evening.
A magical lash of the waves,
Just kisses her bare feet.
Bowing down before her,
As her magnificence speaks.
An enchanting look spreads across,
When a summer evening,
Could be so beautiful,
Capable of being everything.
Lost in a whirlpool of thoughts,
She stands staring,
At the mystery of the horizon,
Where meets the sea and sky.
Realities of life come alive,
As the wind kills the heat,
She breathes a trickle of air,
Fading it into that endless breeze.
The sun has now disappeared,
Night sets its foot,
A beautiful evening indded,
With summer and no heat.
Only thoughts play their parts,
Moulding the place and time,
Into an everlasting wonderland,
Where only beauty speaks....

An Obituary To Two Angels

It is with utmost sadness and grief that I pen down this post- knowing fully well that the two darling women in my life, my mother Greta Noronha and my best friend Suzette Jordan are up there in the heavens and smiling down us all- but the grief of separation is certainly inescapable, especially in a span of 20 days almost.

My mother

Most here would know my mother- Greta Noronha, a jovial, fun-loving and yet a stern-blunt woman. She didn’t care about what the world had to speak of her; she knew what she wanted and got it come what may. Growing up I never understood why she was a rebel, and didn’t believe in the superficial societal and religious norms laid forth- she had a mind of her own, which certainly explains why I am the same. Most would point fingers and talk about her; she stopped socialising for the fact that the society we live in was nothing but hogwash and gibberish. Being a lady who sacrificed her career and gave up her aspirations for our family; she knew how to make a platform strong and supportive enough to manage us all, should she go someday.

Ladies and gentlemen, my darling mother- now an angel is in the arms of her mother and father. Mummy was a patient of dementia for 5 years, and it all began in 2010 but the diagnosis came much late; too late for us to do anything at all. We did our best to give her the most wonderful moments, and even while in the ICU i sang into her ears, I held her hand and told her it was okay for her to cross over, for we will be fine.

Maybe I lied to her then, because no one can even match up to the love of a mother- life has to go on, and that’s why I took charge at home after she was laid to rest. Mummy never expected anything from anyone; she rather gave more than what she could afford. I salute her noble ways of life- little did the hear sayers know she was always someone who would walk up to the poorest around or the animals on the road, sit with them and communicate in her own ways.

No one knows but a very few and for those of you who did meet my mom (friends and teachers alike) would know best- my mum was a very welcoming lady. Her expressions told it all; if she liked you or not, she wouldn’t judge you though. She left you to understand your words, actions and ways in life- never would she impose her ways on you.

Regardless of who you are, where you came from or the kind of money you made, your orientation or beliefs; mummy loved everyone alike. I can only hope and aspire to be a percentage of her in my whole lifetime, or maybe not.

Eternal rest Mom,

I am happy you now are in a better place.

My darling Suzette,

I remember the first time we met, it was in 2014 and that was when I called you and invited you for the civil rights movement at Jadavpur University, Kolkata- Slutwalk Kolkata chapter 2.

The moment I reached your home and it was a bloody scorching day, your warm hug gave me the respite from the elements around!

Over cups of tea we bonded and finally marched that evening, with friends and supporters alike. Suzy as I fondly called you, you gave me the strength to be the individual I chose to be- you told me very clearly – LOVE IS LOVE AND IT TRANSCENDS ALL MAN-MADE BOUNDS. I realise those words ever more now, more than what I could have back then.

Every moment spent with you, at your place with Aunty Karen, with Nicqui and with Rhea and Jade, and yes your lovely cats and the cousins who would drop by- never was I made to feel as though I was an outsider; I was at home.

Shocked and despaired as the world is; I wonder where were all the ‘activists’ who wrote to you and promised help or support, I wonder where were they- but again, a noble lady such as you who judged no one or expected nothing from the world, always told me to be grateful. I am grateful having an angel like you, for supporting me when mums health when bad- when my own didn’t come visiting, you were there.

I am highly obliged for the little things you did for me and I admire your courage of fighting against the political honchos too. I wonder why there was no CBI investigation in your case; Oh I forgot- you were termed a ‘prostitute’ and a ‘woman with fast ways’; so you basically were not human-enough to be thought off as a case- but you fought them all my girl, you did.

People pointed fingers at you and cooked stories about you, made you part of their gangs only because they wanted ‘limelight’- you cared nothing about the same. There were many who wrote obituaries when you passed away – I wonder how noted activists could use RAPE as a joke as an ICEBREAKER.

I am happy that you too are in the arms of your loved ones and are in a better place now. Suzy my mad girl, you are missed terribly; the fun we had, the soul-to-soul talks, the silent music listening sessions, the shopping for dry fish and walks to Behala church every Sunday. Even at church people would snare and glare, but we would laugh them all off!

I hope you are rocking the scene up there darling? 

Miss you my madness

Rohan AH Noronha

Image stylist and social activist

Batch 1996