Literary Soirée Experience and Pieces

Literary SoirĂŠe Experience And Pieces

By Shreya A.V

Between Hello and Goodbye I was selected recently to participate at my school’s literary soirée event. It was a wonderful evening where students across the ages were picked to recite poetry, short stories and other literary pieces that they had submitted for consideration.

Two pieces I had submitted were chosen for recital at the soirée. The first, ‘Between Hello and Goodbye’ was a descriptive piece talking about my experience enjoying my summer holidays in India surrounded by nature and family. The second was a narrative poem titled ‘Wonderland’ inspired by the broad theme of a ‘wonderland’ tale.

The event was attended by writer Rachel Hamilton. It was incredibly inspiring to hear her speak about her writing journey and how and why writing was such an integral part of her life. It was great not only getting to listen to her but also to my peers who read out a variety of pieces ranging from poetry about cars to touching stories about the complexities of human relationships.

Ms Hamilton was so kind as to recount the experience attending this evening on her website and generously spoke many kind words about my piece: http://rachel-hamilton.com/raffles-literary-soiree/ In the following pages I have included both pieces that I was given a chance to recite at the event. I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I did writing them.

My summers in India are very relaxing. I wake up every morning to the sweet song of sparrows and the rough, loud voice of the vegetable seller, pulling his cart along the footpath. Stacks of big, juicy tomatoes, thick green beans, leafy spinach, huge potatoes and bright orange carrots are all piled up beside each other in his cart. He slowly approaches our window, shouting out the day’s specials. My aunt rushes to draw the pink, floral curtains with an empty silver bowl in her hand. She passes it out through the window, gives her order and gets back a bowlful of fresh vegetables.

The sounds of cars and auto-rickshaws grow louder and louder as I lie curled up in my soft, cottony blanket. The warm morning sunlight enters the room and caresses my sleepy face. The salty aromas of my aunt’s tangy rice cakes, sweet coconut chutneys and spicy sauces cooked with onions, and mustard seeds creep into my room, and beckon me to get up.

I drag myself out of bed, and my feet feel the cold chill of the white marble tiling. I freshen up and head to the living room, where I plop down on the brown, velvety cushions of the wooden-framed sofa. I switch on the T.V for some lively music, accompanied by the sound of my uncle flipping the pages of the morning’s paper. No doubt he is reading about cricket.

When afternoon approaches, I stroll to the garden, which is full of vivacious colors and sweet smells. I sit on the hard, grey bench of stone and take in the air, which smells strongly of the smooth, milky - white jasmine flowers.

Hibiscuses of deep reds, fluffy orange bottle brushes, bright purple bougainvillea and fiery yellow peacock flowers line either side of the garden. A few delicate, blue butterflies swoop down and linger on the pretty yellow roses, moving their tiny, tender wings gently back and forth, before fluttering on down towards the other houses. I sit still, appreciating all of the vivid nature around me, until some cold drops of water fall onto my head.

Soon, the flowers and leaves are dotted with tiny water droplets too. I realise that it has begun to rain, but before I can run back to the house, the drizzle of rain turns into a ferocious shower, and I am drenched from head toe. It is the peak of the monsoon season, and such showers are very frequent.

Quite often in the evenings when the rain has died down, I walk to the lake nearby, which is dotted with dainty, pink lotuses. Standing by the still water, I

can see my reflection, and that of the tall, slender, brownish-grey eucalyptus trees, branching out mostly at the top. The air is heavy with the scent of the eucalyptus trees, and the fragrance of flowers. The sounds of children laughing and playing and the wind swishing through the dark green leaves are very pleasant to my ears. The smell of salted peanuts suddenly fills the air as the vendor comes by, and soon a hoard of excited children and adults alike gather around him.

It is midnight, and I can hear the crickets in the garden which is now enveloped in darkness, chirping in the dead silence of the night. I listen intently, as now and then I am still able to hear the low rumble of a rickshaw or a car passing by. As usual, the cats begin to meow and screech and fight their seemingly endless fights, and the dog joins in too, until they are all chased away by the watchman. In a while though, these sounds gradually fade away and a complete silence settles in on the black night.

Sometimes, my mind wanders off to Dubai, and I both enjoy and dread the fact that I will have to return there soon after the summer vacation ends. Dubai and India, two different worlds, two different lifestyles, two different cultures.

Each is almost as homely to me as the other, although do wonder where I really belong at times. One thing I do look forward to in going back to the Dubai is returning to school and being with my friends.

I wake up every morning to the bright, hot sun, and get ready for another day of school. I freshen up, eat a quick breakfast of cereal, grab my bag and get into the car. We drive past towering skyscrapers, malls, massive bridges and huge billboards with loud colors. They showcase various products from the latest cosmetics and gadgets to the fanciest restaurants and cafes. As we enter the highway, a number of different four-wheel drives, buses and taxis zoom ahead. Every so often I can catch sight of the sleek, blue metro zipping past.

When I reach school, I head straight to the form room to see my best friends.

Although I’m always excited about catching up with my friends in Dubai, I can’t help missing all of my family back in India, which makes the first few days of school quite hard. As time passes though, I do settle back down to life in Dubai, which is, in fact my home away from home. So my life falls between hello and goodbye.

Wonderland

As man and horse gallop forth, The trees around tower higher, And the vehemence of the whispers of the vines Vanquishes all sound, As though it were fire.

The landscape ahead Is veiled in a mist, As deep a blue As midnight on new moon.

Rider and horse, Fade into the light, To enter a void.

Nothing above, nor nothing below.

As they stand, out of nowhere Appears the brush That paints the sky red With quick strokes of flair.

It conjures mammoth black trees

That reach for them with their branches, And bloodshot eyes That seem could kill with mere glances.

It conjures an army of headless bats and beasts, Relentless in their pursuit of the rider, The horse gallops at full speed, Trotting on air as smooth as a glider.

And for years they have run, The horse and the rider, And the army of beasts Do not seem to tire.

When time takes the brush, All will fade away, And the horse and the rider Shall see the light of day.