NEWSLETTER 2019 Junior College Volume 02
Students Editorial Board Syed Huda Anaum Pandit M o h a m m a d Ta z e e m
Patron: Ms. Saira Raza
“Another May new buds and flowers shall bring: Ah! why has happiness no second Spring?”. - Charlotte Smith. S. Eliot
Designed By: Musheer ul Islam
Delhi Public School, Srinagar
CAMPUS ROUNDUP....... May started off with the annual CC- Run of plus two department. It was 6pm run from Hazratbal to Nishat. 6 in the morning all laced up, full of enthusiasm students alongside teachers began the run. All through the way mesmerized by the spectacular beauty of the Dal Lake, students tried their level best, tested their stamina, will and character. The run was not only beneficial for their physical strength but for their mental strength as well. Rubab Punjabi and Muntaha emerged as the winners. On the 6th of May the school bagged the Burn Hall’s winner’s trophy and the best speaker award. The school team that participated in the debate on the topic “Should Violent Video Games be Banned” consisted of Asma Shakeel, Sadiq Ali, Aazima Basharat and Eshan Amjid. On the 8th of May; the most anticipated and important day of the year, The Prefects Investiture Ceremony was held. The ceremony began with The Duke of Yorkshire March. The prefectorial body firmly holding the flags in their hands and the promise to serve their school in their hearts took their respective positions. The audience of this special event included the parents of the prefects, the members of Parent Teacher Association and the junior college. The ceremony was telecasted live on the school Facebook page as well as the smart boards of all school classrooms. One after the other prefects took their oath and swore to uphold the integrity and sanity of this glorious institution. The event came to an end with the Vice Principal leading the audience into prayer and delivering the vote of thanks. The school MUN team consisting of Asma Shakeel, Sadiq Ali, Nimrah Ashraf Baba, Maryam Mir, Nabeel Akhtar, Syed Huda, Aazima Basharat, Mudasir Dar and Mohammad Tazeem participated in the LMGMUN 2019, held from 10th to 12th of May. The delegation won various individual awards and to top it all won the Best Delegation Trophy and Sadiq Ali was declared the best speaker. This achievement appeared in The Hindustan Times and various newspapers of the state. The holy month of Ramadan is near its end and the students as well as teachers are looking forward to the Idd-ul-Fitr celebrations. Idd Mubarak to all.
- Syed Huda, Mohammad Tazeem & Hameem Mushtaq
Reminiscent I spread open the prayer mat and start my namaz The usual two favourite surahs And a minute long sajdah A salaam for the angels on my right Another for the ones on my left ... Still. Motionless. I stay. Staring down. No wishes, or requests, or hope. No sound, or glitch, Silence at it's silent best As if the world stopped for these few minutes And thenThe rooted tears, Flowed open, From the cage of my control Never stopping. Never ending. Blurry vision I look up Hands spread And all I could murmur was All I could beg God was All I could pray for was "Give me back my old days.... Please, Give me back my old days..."
As I got out of my bed, with the bitter sweet taste of the life of yesterday, I aimed to be free, free of the prejudice of time, free of the tormenting emptiness I felt. My days as usual were predominated by idleness, expectations of an adventure, hope of a possibility that only poets dream off. My only reason to live was that there was no reason to die for, everything seemed self contradicting. The only time I felt at peace was when I went out for a walk in the streets. It seemed that everyone there was playing their part, completing the puzzle of life; it seemed like everybody was where they were supposed to be. As I walked through the streets with the autumn leaves clattering to my strides I observed the people I saw every day. An old lady sitting in the corner of the bench with an undistinguishable face, she seemed to be one of those people who have an expressionless face, a face worn out by the troubles of life, a face which ceases to hope, to express. The street narrowed down as I moved further, puddles of water reflecting the grey of the merciless sky, lovers finding refuge in the corners of uncertainty, I walked on. It tormented me that life was moving on, the sense of self pity at the onset of this curse were nowhere to be seen. I felt a sense of restricted rebellion in me. I felt that it was stalking me and waiting for the right opportunity that it would grab me by the throat and drag me to the well of madness, where it would drown me until the demons come out. I looked at the men who prophesize of love, with the books in their hands and the crosses around their necks, And one might Wonder What there was in love that had to be so watched over what a love could be worth that needed such strenuous guarding. It felt more like that man was never meant to be free, that freedom was for the rogues, freedom brought confusions, misery and nihilism. I clenched the fur of my coat as a cold shrill of horror passed through my spine. The street was as poor as it was narrow; a mother with a child in her lap sang the hymns of a long forgotten poet Jab Teri samundar ankhon mein is sham ka suraj doobega Sukh soenge sab ghar dar wale Aur rahi apni raah lega I grunted at the possibility of this truth, this faith that could never be detached, questioned, the vagueness of such simplicity seemed too dull to contradict, the idea seemed powerful and tender at the same time, I couldnâ€™t accept the kiss of life for the problems of my mind and I walked on. - Taif Altaf (X1-D3)
“Money, not morality, is the principle commerce of a civilized nation.” Our system is such a draconian system, where-by the only thing that matters in a college admission or a job application is a sheet of paper- how authoritative the sheet of paper is, anyone can guess now. Today, we perceive marks as just some numbers written on a paper but for a person who has had to slog for it, it is his visa to an unexposed dream world. In a world so competitive like ours a single mark can easily decide our future, our way of living, and the amount of instant respect we are going to gain. Let’s be honest for minute here, if we give a job examination and we are not selected, not because of our marks being low but because someone else has a reservation from the SCST’s categories, the amount of anger generated will leave no space for our morals to function at that time. If morality was objective there would be at least one rule throughout every society that has ever existed that was believed as this is not the case, therefore morality no doubt is subjective. Morality we all know is an easy prey to disillusionment, anger and disappointment, over generations humans have compromised on their values to accomplish their dreams Do you really think that our morals will ever be rated higher, than our marks? Marks don’t determine our knowledge, true. But they do determine our lives, the college we will study in, the job we will get, almost every comfort of our life directly or indirectly depends on them. Marks reflect our hard work, sincerity, talent and that is why a university will always check your marks before giving you an admission because those are the kind of traits they would like to see in their students. We all see these talented and lucky people who are celebrities and have barely passed their 10th grade and you read their silver screen quotations saying marks don’t matter but I can guarantee you that there are people whose lives have been a total failure by believing the same ideology and the celebs you look at are just a few exceptions, but unfortunately for these exception the marks scale is present for them too, even they have to impress the critics and score high on their marks scale to be classified as a success or a failure. Getting good marks has become an important race for survival in the society .We all aspire to study in good colleges and morals don’t get us there you see they don’t even interview us to check our knowledge. So what will get us there, definitely marks will, Cut off in different colleges goes like 98.75% for BA in LSR, Delhi college of arts and commerce for BA 98.5%, the Hindi college for economics 98% and so on, people miss out on NEET due to a difference of 0.001 mark, yes you heard me right a triple digit difference after the decimal point. For a 12th grade students his final board exams represent his only chance, in which he is given a do or die situation, in a utopian world the amount of hard work, dedication, he will put behind will be appreciated in any case but in the realistic world if those traits don’t represent an A grade on his paper he will be considered as a failure and he will never be appreciated by everyone. Given the failure of our government to produce new jobs, establish new institutions, there is no doubt that marks matter a lot. I hope at the end of this you agree with me that marks matter more than morality.
- Farman (XI-A1)
Fine Ar t Ac t iv it y - May (2019)
Moazzam X IID
Me hre e n XIIB
A n o o sh - Cl a s s X II
Se hrish XIID
A Blessing I am a girl “A blessing” and I own my body I am faultless so I won’t either be sorry Why am I told to lock myself in a room? Why am I not given a chance to bloom? Why should I let them be ruthless with me? I demand to be free, I seek justice for me This world was created for both Adam and Eve So let this be equal as it was meant to be Don’t think you can buy me on a low cash price Before blaming my clothes, look into your evil eyes Rather teaching me my limits, teach your son to respect a girl Don’t tell me I am inferior cause I am no way less to rule this world - Haiqa
PERFECTION What sunlight is to the flowers, you are to me. THE HAND THAT PICKS them UP What a single penny is to a beggar, you are to me. TOO VALUABLE What the silver lining is to the clouds, you are to me. A HOPE What poetry is to a poet, you are to me. SURVIVAL What you are to me, cannot be defined. PERFECTION -Aisha
The Fallen Chinar Like a crown it stands, A piece of art by the very best hands Protected by mountains that only boast dignity It is the paradise on the Earth, it is sheer beauty Empowered by forests that run too deep Carried by peaks with valleys that weep A village full of orchards a city full of dreams A place people visit and admire but in reality full of fights Look once and you never stop gazing Everyday is a struggle, but it survived and it always will They say it was beautiful, an attraction, a possession highly valued Little did I know it had a conflict to its name, firmly forever glued Its not philosophy Its not an ethical question Happiness and satisfaction is rare Every family has their story of separation This land is Kashmir This right here, paradise But there sure are consequences Its not existence without cries Our men have lost their spirits Our women have lost their joy Our children have lost their laughter Broken hearts like fragile toys But this is Kashmir An angelic beauty And we are its people Strong, united Kashmiris Our scars shine like blood spilled on the snow A paradise for visitors, but for me itâ€™s my home A home once safe, a home they froze This is the ruthless death of a budding rose
Ac t iv it i e s - May (2019)
B e st D el e gate Trophy at Mod el United Nat i on s
Inv e stiture C e re mony 2019
Cro ss C ountr y R un of Cl a ss 11th & 12th
We change From the sky get dim to the sun getting dimmer From the breeze to the winds From all the moments to all the cries From all the chanting to the silence From all the flowers to all the nettles From all the peace to all the pain From the brain to the heart By and by from all the pressure to all the diamonds
- Badraqa Kawoosa
Our curiosity- simple, yet sempiternal
You talk about future? We don’t even know if we’ll be alive the next second. You talk about career? We don’t even know if we’ll get another school day. You talk about piercing your ears, lips, brows and all sorts of body parts? We don’t even know if we’ll have skin left other than bullets piercing. You talk about your father’s uncle’s neighbour’s son? We don’t even know if our own uncles are alive. You talk about having long holidays with just your friends? We don’t even know if it’s safe enough to step out of our houses alone. You talk about your sore throat after a long night of partying? We don’t even know if we’ll ever feel safe enough to let out our voices. You talk about having fun during a match? We don’t even know if we’ll ever get to support a team of our own choice. You talk about #SIBLINGGOALS? We don’t even know if own brothers will return home safely. You talk about the colours blue, green and yellow? We don’t even know if we’ll ever get to see a colour other than red. You talk about death? We don’t even know if we’ll ever get to talk about life.
Shattered Was I wrong to trust someone again? Was I a fool to love truly, only to get pain? Was I dumb not to get your lies when you said you loved me? Was I obsessed to ignore your every fault, too tired to weep? Was I innocent enough to get carried away by you? Was I crazy to overlook every wrong thing you do? Was I blinded by your sweet vows of unending love, trusting that nothing shall be in vain? Were you ruthless enough to make me alive, only to kill me, all over again?