WRITER’S AFFAIR
AUGUST 2024
Foreword
Welcome to the exciting August Edition of the Writer’s Affair Magazine: an initiative aiming to provide a platform for the contributions and commentaries of TISB’s very own students.
This time around, it is not only the brilliant works of poetry, prose, and analysis of our fellow students been celebrated. This issue also includes a collection of Haikus penned by the primary year students of Links Educational Centre, after a workshop held by the Writer’s Affair editorial team.
In these little steps, we hope to ensure that the pursuit of literature is an avenue democratised for all. It is our greatest pleasure to be part of such an initiative, and we hope that you shall be equally pleased to peruse the results.
Remain eager for our next issue! We continue to strive to share the writing of our talented student body with the rest of the world. Let us hope to spread the joys of literature even wider!
“The purpose of literature is to turn blood into ink.”
-T.S. Elliot
Poetry
August 2024
Featuring:
Poetic Pets - Shreeya Phukan 1. I Once Knew A Girl - Vedika Sengupta 2. Free Spirit- Sarah Dsouza
3. Scorpion Grass - Ruchi Singhal 4.
Poetic Pets
Feline Felicitations!
I love cats, cats with hats, A fancy hat to rat-a-tat-tat. It wakes me each morning, Sleepy me moaning and groaning, Woken up in style, With a kitty rat-tat at my bedside.
My Dream Pet
I wanted a dog, That is what I have always said Almost ever since I could talk, I’ve fallen for dogs That seem to provide more emotional Satisfaction
Than the classmates from whom I feel a partition.
But, when I laid eyes on those guppies, More supple and scintillating than puppies, Their frisky tails, Graceful frills, Nifty and swifter than any puppy, I seemed to have found my heart
Among those whose art Flourished
In the watery world I cherished.
Shreeya
I once knew a girl, Extraordinarily different, She lived beyond reality’s confines, When she wrote.
I once knew a girl, Who had ink in place of her blood, Whose soul bore the weight of her words unspoken, And as she wrote, A release.
I once knew a girl, Whose thoughts were entangled with an ethereal power, Whose heart raced and fingers trembled, As her words spilled out onto the page.
I once knew a girl, Who had the power of creation flowing through her veins, Universes stirred, the gods awoke, And time itself hesitated, distracted, As she wrote.
I once knew this girl, For she was once me, And if I search deep within, I may still set her free.
VediikaSengupta
FreeSpirit
Cracking ground beneath her feet, Galloping across the misty unknown
Never truly feeling beat
Her courage is gathered up together, As she runs across the grassy moss, Her back not feeling the falling feather.
Hope and resilience create a dream never seen before, A goal lies ahead with no barriers to stop her
The skies are free, she takes flight and soars.
Quicker than a speeding bullet
Passing as if in a blur
Each passing hour feels like a second
Boldness and courage have built up during the day, Her strength not daring to fail her, Flooding down on her is the mighty sun ’ s rays.
The journey used to seem beyond her reach
Something like trying the impossible
But her goal held on to her like a leech
Shadows first hesitating, have grown, Nothing trying to step in her way. The fear created last night has flown.
She is a horse, And her heart makes her a fearless force
scorpion grass
RuchiSinghal
Writer’s Affair Presents
PROSE OF TISB
August 2024
A Comparison - Aditi
Madhukar Dhakappa
AComparison AComparison AComparison
Wecouldsayitstartedwiththemangotree
Freshliquidoozedthrougheverylastporeofitssoft,pulpyconsistency.Thesmellof purejoywaftedthroughdoorsandwindowsaschildrenswarmedaroundinglee, waitinginanticipationtotastethefresh,creamyexcellenceofthesummerseason Brightorangeliketheraysofthedawningsun,everybeastflockedtorevereits existence.Theyboweddowntoitsregality,itspurposeanditssweetness.Their excitementtrickledasplashofcolourintothequintessentialfoliageofthegarden. Themangotreestood,bearingfruit,revellinginitsnewfoundacclaim
Wecouldsayitstartedwiththeappletree.
Ithadtriedeverythinginitscapacitytorivalthegrandeurofthemangoitself Its lustrousredcoatauguredroyalty,yettoanempiresoinconsequentialthatitnever waswitnessed.Itstood,upheavingfruitallyearlong,yetthefruitsofitsdrudgery wereslimtozero Peopletreateditlikeamerecommoditythataddednoreal significancetotheirlives Itwaslefthapless,standingtherethroughtheforbidding winters,andtheloftysun,holdingontoeverylastfruitwitheverylastdropof vitalityitpossessed,hopingandprayingthatsomeday,itsexertionswouldfinally shinethrough
Standingshouldertoshoulderinagardenfulloftrees,bothtreesglistenedwith suchresplendence,eachbearingfruit;aswastheirobligation Yet,despiteitall,the appletreestoodtheredespondently,itsbranchessagging,languishingand slumpingwiththeweightofitsfruit,anditsfailureatbeingaskinglyasthemango tree Itsleavesteetereddepressedlyinthebreezeasitdebauchedinitsinabilitytobe thebearerofaseasonalfruitthatfilledpeoplewithjoy Itslavedawayallyearlong withoutacquiringevenanounceofcredit,whilethemangotreehadtosagwiththe weightofmangoesforameretwomonths,andwaspraisedtotheskies.Itcursed theheavensforitsfate,knowingthatitcouldhavebeensomuchmorecontentifthe mangotreehadneverexisted
Thetwosaplingshadgrownsidebyside,yetasthemangotreegrew,itsshadow grewwithit,untiltheappletreewasshroudedinitentirelywithnomeansof pullback
Andtheappletreewouldkillitselffromwithin.Everyday,itpusheditselftogrowas tallandstatelyasthemangotree.Everyday,itpusheditselftobearfruitassweet andsucculentasthemangoesthatmaturedinthesummer Everydayittriedto provideshadeandsweet-smellingfruit,butitallwasinvain Thepoortreewas nevermetwiththefestive,enthusiasticreactionsthemangotreewelcomedwith ease Bewildermentoverwhelmedthetreeasitwonderedwhatithaddonewrong It hadtrieditshardesttotickeverybox,trieditshardesttogiveitsall Yet,nothing everseemedtowork.Nooneeverwasreadytogiveitthetimeofday.
Theywerethesame Theappletreeknewthatbothofthemwerethesame Theyhad growninthesamegarden,plantedatthesametime,receivedthesameamountof water,caredforthesameamountbythegardener,andwereexposedtothesame amountofinsectsandbirds.Whathaditpossiblydonewrongtobeshovedtothe back-burnerdespiteworkingsix-timesashardasthemangotree?
Farawayinthedistance,alittlegirlstood,watchingbothtreesintently.Theapples fromthisverytreehadremediedhersinglefatherfromalethalcardiovascular disease Wedgedinbetweenherlittlefingerswasapagefromhernotebookthathad anillustrationoftheappletree,andscrawledunderhersketchwasthecaption“An appleadaykeepsthedoctoraway.”Herdelightatherfather’srecoveryfar transcendedtheephemeraljoyevenahundredmangoescouldpurvey Thetearsof joythatflowedfromhereyesclamouredgratitudethatnoothertreecouldcallits own.Shewasjustoneofthem.Thereweresomanyotherswhostoodthere,life slippingbetweentheirfingers.Suchwasthebeautifulnatureofitspurpose,the abilitytobreathelifeintoanother Thetimeitspentonitsfruitassistedsomany people Peoplerevereditfromafar Theylookeduponitwithutterrespect People consumedappleseverydaytokeeptheirhealthintact,andlookedfavourablyupon thetreewhosaggedwiththeweightofitsfruitjusttomakethemhappy.Itwas neverasmeaninglessasitthoughtitselftobe
Wecantrythatagainandstartwiththeappletree.
Standingintheshadowofanothertreeinitsowngarden,itcouldneverobserveits trueworth,whichgleamedthrougheverybarrier.Itslife-savinggracespreadjoy thatwaseverlasting Itadmonishedanddisparageditself,deemingitsexistenceto besoemptyandmeaningless,yetunbeknownsttoit,itsradiancetouchedthelivesof millionsofpeople.Itsconstantcomparisonblindeditfromnoticingitstruecapacity. Itwasatreethatprovidedlonglastinghappiness,yetitbeatitselfupforbeing unabletoprovideanimmediatesurgeofshort-livedhappiness.Itssuccesswas rightthereinfrontofit,yetitneverhadtheeyestoseeit,whichisthesaddestpart ofitsstory
Aditi Madhukar
Dhakappa
EDITORS’ CORNER
lunar sovereign
I wish to be as beautiful as the moon for the moon glows in luminous glory a face flooded with fortune to behold nights cascaded in a ceaseless story.
With power bestowed to keep night light of such nuance that coats selectively the town below in incandescent white while the rest waits in shadow patiently.
For the moon’s shift of a twenty-seventh when ’tis time to avail its munity, has shaded slivers of the night before now take opulent opportunity.
Caressing the vicinity fondly giving life to its very property the car tops and house roofs gleam gratefully spectacled by residents pridefully.
Oh but moon, you’re not as sweet as you seem capturing hearts so carelessly for while the town beholds you as theirs you betray it with your promiscuity the full globe usurps your shine not just town, not just city but we are blinded by the disloyal for you are ours, are mine, so pretty.
PORCHLIGHT
Iremembersoclearly, Rockingforthonthegroundingfloor, ThosethingsIthoughtofsodearly, Thosepromisesmade,thoughIswore, Now,eyeingapebbleddropofdew Isay,“Iamlongover-due” AtthismomentIamthelinebetweenangerandgrief.
RicketyClackitybonesthatwon’tdowhatthey’retold Myhandscutwithglassfromthemaskthatyouwore Ican’tfindthatlittlegirl,themebeforeatlasfelltheskies Iguessthereisn’tasirencallforwhenyoumeetyourdemise Ihopeshe’salright. Yousee-Shewasn’tmeantforfight Sowhenchaosensued, Ihadnochoicebuttoberenewed Shepromisedanever, Shealsopromisedtobeclever Still,herpromisesremaindue, Itriedtofulfilafew
Ican’tquite-quietmymind, “Ihopeshe’salright” Love,Ilefttheporchlightbright
~Ananya Ravishankar
Antcounter
As my eyes caught sight of a fellow passenger, it came to my notice that this was to be a shared ride
My vile companion for the next hour, traversing the long and crude roads home, braving legions of fellow automobiles utterly indifferent to my plight: was a monstrous creature Larger than it had any right to be Bullet-shaped and of the same menacing lineage. Brightly coloured like a garish flame seeking to consume me: it was impossible to take my eyes off its near-luminous horror.
The cruel ant stalked its path along the window, multi-limbed and self-assured. I moved swiftly, with that innate drive to escape predators instinctual to all humanity, scooting to the side. The sum knowledge of my species was in a little box snug in my hand, utterly useless What could it have done?
The ant hunted behind the seat. My opportune chauffeur glanced at me, likely having noticed my activities. From the look in his eyes, it would scarcely have surprised me if he had made the decision to switch our destination from home to a mental hospital.
I was far from barmy! Just as far as I was from the sweet release of arriving at my abode, and likely much farther than I was from the cruel clasp of the Grim Reaper. The abominable being proudly strutted before my eyes, flaunting its infinite malice and invulnerability. It inched ever closer to the window. Here was my chance! To flick it beyond the veil that separated car-inside and caroutside Turning the lever an arduous task under the best of circumstances and utterly vexing under dangers like these I pulled back the clear curtain. At last! Poised to be free of my captor.
As if he heard the joy of my thoughts, my hope was swiftly snuffed out as the driver with a dismissive wave of the hand betraying his sheer disdain for my helpless plight flicked the ant into the car rather than outside. Foiled! I unleashed every curse I could conjure for that traitor (silently, of course, for he was still the driver)! Where had it gone now? Where was my tormentor, aided by my sole hope for salvation? Its fiery orange had disappeared from sight, though its flames only spread further in mind.
My eyes scoured and searched and scanned. More than once over the remainder of the trip, I yearned to have eyes at the sides as befitted prey of my ilk. It was nowhere to be found. Perhaps it hid in the carpet beneath my shoes.
Perhaps it hid within my shoes.
Perhaps, I wondered, as I stepped out of the car, it hid in my thoughts.
HAIKUS Now presenting
From the children of LINKS EDUCATIONAL CENTRE, BANGALORE.
Haikus are a form of poetry originating in 17th century Japan. They consist of a three-line structure following 5 syllables, 7 syllables, then 5 syllables again.
Credits
Chief Editors:
Aanika Krishnan
Ananya Ravishankar
Aditya Sankar
Contributors:
Shreeya Phukan
Vedika Sengupta
Sarah Dsouza
Ruchi Singhal
Aditi Madhukar Dhakappa
Students of Grade 5, Links
Educational Centre
Special Thanks to Ms.
Velina Murari, our Teacher Advisor
