The Mundane Artist

The house was booming, With the screams of one and the cries of another,  On an auspicious day.  A ruffle of the hair,  A slap on the back,  A push from the side.  A woman and a man stood in a corner,  Shouting something cryptic, In vain everything went.  A few minutes later,  The celebrations commenced.  The screamer and the crier entered.  The crier was forced to stand in front of the screamer ,  The last thing she wanted Was to see his abhorrent face.  She picked up a thread,  From the decorative plate, And tied it hard, for it to pinch.  They reluctantly looked at each other,  A sarcastic smile on the crier ,  A glorifying smile on the screamer .  The crier turned to put the plate down,  The screamer held a box wrapped in colourful paper,  She turned and, a smile crept up.  They hugged and everything was merry,...

We stood face-to-face, And I could read her, see her,  But she couldn't.  She jumped in puddles, and wore torn clothes.  When asked her what she wanted, she asked for her parents.  I jumped away from the puddles, and wore the finest clothes.  When asked what I wanted, I am sure my parents weren't part of my wish.  But this doesn't mean, that she didn't want the glitz and glamour and comfort that I had.  But this doesn't mean, that I didn't love my parents.  Then, what does it mean?  She walked around bare feet, and slept on cold stone.  I walked around in my Stilettos, and slept with red duvets.  But this doesn't mean, that she wasn't comfortable.  But this doesn't mean, that I am comfortable.  Then, what does it mean?  She played with twigs and stones.  I played with Barbie Dolls, and pink everything.  But this doesn't mean, that she never enjoyed it.  ...

School trips are something that are looked forward to. After the monotonous way of life, you suddenly get an opportunity to visit a place with your friends. All the hotel gossips, the fights, the places, the pictures, every single thing stays with you till the day you die. My trip was just the same, yet different. I joined the German-Oman Exchange Program 2016-2017 with only the thought of meeting new people and getting to know another culture. None of my close friends were going for it, but yet, I was determined to go. Which, let me be honest, wasn’t a bad thing at all. I got introduced to so many new and wonderful souls, all with different talents and backgrounds, and got closer to the known. The country, of course, was beautiful, and the people, just as beautiful. Warm, hospitable, and understanding, is how anyone who has been a part of this Exchange Program through the years, will describe them. Their curiosity about our culture, and our curiosity about their cultur...

I left home at midnight. I walked alone in the cool, dark night.  A rustle of leaves here; A step on twigs there,  I stopped and turned around to see if anyone was there.  You would imagine I would be afraid.  For the night was dark, and I was a lonesome girl without a destination.  They showed themselves after a few seconds, The ghosts of the night. "Where are you headed?" asked one ghost to my surprise,  "Nowhere in particular." said I.  "How do you think you'll get through this night? Aren't you afraid of the dark?"  I smiled, looked up, and said, "The stars." Before the dumbfounded ghosts could say anything,  I turned and continued my journey to somewhere.  *** "Don't go in there," a whisper I heard.  "Why not?" I asked. "It's a snarl!" urgency noted.  I smiled, and I entered. Oh so dark! I was blind with eyes.  I walked; I knew something...

"What is it you want?" she cried in despair.  No reply.  "Is it me that you want?"  No reply. "Say something!"  "I already have you," it said.  It had her for years.  And she lived.  Now, it had become stronger, fiercer. And she survived.  She let it wash her over, the wave of pain, Burning and aching her body, it reigned.  She didn't want to survive,  She wanted to live.  Alas, it didn't give her a chance. SHE didn't give herself a chance.  It was thirsty for power, and she let it quench it.  She fell, and one thought.  "Is this the end?"  She came back, and one thought,  "Why isn't it the end?"  But she was strong.  The gale of the disease stronger.  But she was strong,  Just weakened by the reign.  But she was strong,  She fought it with smiles, bruises and pain.  But she was strong,  ...

In the light of recent elections for the Student Council, Prefects, Vice Captains and Captains, I want to throw some light on Leadership. Many of you would have stood for the elections with big dreams. Some of you may have succeeded, whereas some of you may have not. Last year, I stood for the Student Council Elections, and I didn't get in. At this time last year, I was saddened and angry. For someone who wants to nurture their leadership qualities and wants to learn how to properly lead people, such things mean a lot. Then I was pushed to the post of a Prefect. I always heard people talk and ask, and I did the same too,"Why are they throwing me a Prefect Badge? Is it because my fate was bad and they were pitiful?" But later I made myself contemplate the matter. How long was I going to feel bad about the fact that I wasn't part of the student council? Then I understood. If you truly want to be a leader, any post that gives you an opportunity to be a leader, you t...

I was in grade 3 when I joined Indian School Muscat. I remember setting foot in the school for the first time ever for an entrance exam accompanied by my mother. Entering from one way and exiting from another, confused us greatly. I was 8 years old and yet on the first day of school, I was late. Perhaps, I wasn't used to getting up that early in the morning for school (And I still am not, to be very honest!) I was so fascinated by the ACs in my classroom more than anything else. The welcome was warm and the teachers wonderful. It's been 8 years since that day. Now here I am in Grade 12, the last year of schooling. It's fascinating to know how time flew so fast. Just yesterday I was a small girl of 8 and now I am an adolescent aged 17, in the last year of her school! I still can't believe the fact that in another one year I will be done with school. I had never even thought about this, till I bought my books for grade 12.  Even though I still cuss every morning ...