Why this blog?

The nascent and fresh minds of students are so creatively inclined that they have the ability to bring into being a universe of their own. They are little tyros who would, with time, unfold into verves, momentum or sensations of various creative dimensions. A chalk sculptor, a clay artist, an amateur painter of Madhubani, Warli, a dabbler of still life, a budding poet, a tenderfoot writer or a fledgling lyricist – one gets all varieties of creatively-aligned students covered in a seemingly dilettantish peel. We at Shishukunj aspire to provide a humble platform to all such potentials to smatter around and mature into the perfection that they are seeking to epitomize or become! This blog is thus an endeavor that would allow all Shishyans to just play around with their latent artistic caliber and enjoy the bliss of a “BRAVO” from known and unknown quarters.

Saturday, May 13, 2017

And A New Story Began...

Vasudha Gupta, Class X D

With a flowery face
And cheeks ablaze
Looked on by all sires
She set the stage on fire.

With ribbon in hand
The bridesmaids all
Made sure the beauty
Never did fall.

Dressed all in white
Her tiara quite right
To the stage so grand
She was escorted by her dad.

In satin and studded pearls
She, more elegant than most girls
Disarming was her smile
For she was the royal bride.

And so at the final step
The old man handed her pet
To the charming young man
And a new story began.

Friday, May 12, 2017

The Stone That Remains Unturned

Asmi Chelawat, Class X A

Amongst the trees that rose so high,
Among the animals that are so wild,
A flowery bush that stands a bit low,
With the beauty that is ready to be explored.

‘Does beauty have some requirement,
Or does it lie beneath oneself,
Willing to be explored and to be felt?’
Thinks the bush to itself.

It does not know what comes ahead,
It waits to see what happens next,
To see if it dies out of pain,
Or if its beauty gets some words of fame.

It wishes that it gets a name,
Poets who are willing to frame,
Poems on its beauty and grace,
Time, oh it wants to rush its pace.

This is what the bush feels,
Some leaves so green and others uncurled,
Out of all rocks that were so huge,
This is the stone that remains unturned.

Thursday, May 11, 2017

Who Am I?

Arushi Jain, Class X A

I am the letters of the beautiful words that compose me,
I am found in the souls of the talented singers.
My sole job is to reach the people
And make them calm
And relaxed.
I am, I’ll be and I’ll remain
As my feel remains in the heart of the people
And my words echo in their mind.
By now, you must have understood
That I am a song.

Wednesday, May 10, 2017

The Hideous Nightmare

Simran Dewani, Class X F

It was just a hideous nightmare,
And yet, I was left in despair.
A dream haunted by a deadly ghost,
Which scared me the most.

Marking time to sleep in the dark,
Ignoring those whining dogs bark.
Then outside it started to rain,
Those noises which made me insane.

My dream was full of dead meat,
Which me skip a heartbeat.
While noises of trees and storms were terrifying me,
‘End the dream! End the dream!’ I kept crying.

Imagining in garments, black as pitch,
The wild and wicked witch.
And finally, I covered myself in my bed,
With a pillow on my head.

Friday, May 05, 2017

If I Were Rain

Rishita Neema, Class VIII A

If I would be a part of the cloud,
I would be mighty and proud.
Stand above all,
Without any hurdles or wall.

But I’d definitely miss,
My allies and the snake’s hiss.
Even the thoughts of ruling seem sour,
Without companions, what a bore!

And when the cloud burst,
It was the end of my thirst,
That moment, that bliss,
When I could come rumbling, tumbling for Mother Earth to kiss.

But when from my dream destination, yards away I flew,
I saw a sight – strange and new,
People running away from me,
Shielding themselves under an umbrella or a tree.

Children sailing paper boats – fun that would’ve been,
That was the scene when,
We were friends, they and me,
Those children are now drinking tea.

But it seems that some of my companions could not forget me so soon,
So they let me trickle down their cheeks,
Some sacred, consoling joy, they have not known,
For a hundred days and million weeks.

Thursday, May 04, 2017

I Am A River

Riddhi Singhania, Class X D

I am a river
Ready to explore
The fields and valleys
And lots more.

I am a river
Strong enough
To be able to cut through
Rocks so tough.

I am a river
Eternal forever
No matter what obstructs me
I won’t give up, no, never.

Wednesday, May 03, 2017

A Hurried Goodbye

Kartik Chopra, Class IX F

Andrew took a large gasp of breath. He was quick for a man of 6’2’’. Even his six year old son Noah was fast enough to catch up with him. ‘I know a cave around here where they won’t be able to find us,’ said the little boy, ‘I used to come here with my friends.’ He led them there.
It was a disturbingly creepy place but owing to how tired they were, they instantly fell into a trance of sleep. This day had been too much for Noah to assimilate. His mother had been cooking his favourite lasagna when two burly ‘tromokrates’ or terrorists in Greek, had barged into the house and asked for his dad.

Noah knew about his father’s controversial speech at the district elections the other day. He had quickly called his parents and they had used the trap door in the kitchen to escape. In his heart Noah had said a silent goodbye to Abdera.