Students During Exam Time

Complaining about exams has
become a recurring theme.
Honestly, it’s not as big a deal
As kids sometimes make it seem.

“Easy for you to say!”
the senior students scoff
“Seventh graders have it easy-
You have nothing to complain of!”

Here’s the thing about exams:
They merely test our memory
Not much goes into our heads
When it’s all crammed in a hurry.

There’s that one poor bloke
Who toils through the pain
Receives the fruits of labour
In form of topping once again.

They leave the class aghast
In lieu of getting applauded
The jealous ones cry “Betrayer!”
In envious tones quite morbid.

But the most infuriating
Is the one who exlaims
They never bothered to study
Yet, the most marks they gain.

There’s the confusing lot
Who really couldn’t care less
sleeping through the school year
Exams? A load of pointless stress.

And when the hellish days cease
The kids all jump for ages
Until the scores return to haunt us
We all turn into praying sages.

Whatever the grade turns out to be
We vow to next time excel
But the cycle always repeats
Shall be the same next year as well.


Middle School Drama

To most school going children

Their lives are just the worst

Adults just have it so easy

While their lives are simply cursed!

No doubt a silly notion

But it’s true that its hard

We’re little bombs of indignation

So you’d best be on your guard.

What with lessons and exams

And that pressure to exceed-

Not to give ourselves satisfaction

But to make others pay us heed

There’s just too much competition

For the most trivial of matters

Our ‘reputation’ hanging on the line

We can’t possibly let it shatter.

There’s the middle school drama

From which we must try escape

What joy they get from spreading rumours

I haven’t understood till date.

The group forming is astounding

Kids gathering round in cliques

Eyeing others with such hatred

And other such antics.

Some teachers are odd creatures.

They have their own notions.

Our noses rubbed to the grindstone

There’s quite some unexpressed emotion.

A few good ones in the lot, sure

But it’s second nature to suspect them all

To the kids who insist despising

Each one they pass in the hall

School life can be a pain truly

The slogging makes me less than pleased

But some of the best moments reside here

I’ll smile back at these very memories.

Procrastination- Exam Problems


If you’re anything like me,

You might be facing a quandary

You’re someone who enjoys school

But exams merely induce worry.


Like me, however much you adore

And appreciate all education

When it comes to swotting it all-

You’re forced into frustration.


So any time I sit to study

I’ll concentrate with all my heart…

Hah! What a terrible joke-

I’ll hardly ever care to start.


I’ll procrastinate for all I care

Without truly intending to

But you never know you see,

When something distracts you.


Suddenly the most trivial of things

Seem a major issue to fix-

Whether it’s a picture frame gone wonky

Or unarranged paper grips.


It may be in the form of hunger-

Where rather than learning sums

You find the need to feast upon

A plate of tea and cocoa buns.


And all this seems fun and good

But you know it’s all in vain

Whatever you do to avoid it-

You can’t postpone the pain.


It might be twelve at midnight

When the sky is dim and dark

You get amply tensed to study

And you’ll regret it when you start.


So when you sit the test all groggy

You’ll vow to never procrastinate

But it’s really the student life

You’ll probably make the same mistake. 😀

I’m Back! An apology poem-


I apologise quite dearly for

The inconvenience I’ve caused.

Well to be honest it’s not much

But a lot of precious time lost.


It’s been about a month (or two)

Since I’ve neglected my blog

But halt! I do have an excuse

I’ve been working quite a slog.


Now you may be sceptical

And wonder suspiciously how

A twelve year old is kept so busy

To that I shall give the answer now.


Exams! Yes, those deadly things

Which upon my brain were hacking

Wish I had the acumen to balance both

But for me, common sense is lacking.


But now that I’ve been released!

From this shackled vortex of toil

No more swotting up (for now)

My head in lesser of a coil.


My heart and soul is back

Devoted back to my little site!

Stay tuned for more poetry

(unless I forget- which I might.) 😛

Making Diyas

Hi! Today we had a diya-making competition. Diyas are lighted on the day of Indian Festival Deepavali, the Festival Of Lights. Tradition says that the day Lord Ram returned to Ayodhya after fourteen years of exile, everybody lit Diyas, made of earthen material to light up the dark night to celebrate his return. We do various things on this festival and lighting Diyas is a big part. Today at school we had a diya-decorating activity. Here are the pictures of the diya…

The final Diya using red, black, yellow and white paint as well as some types of lentils.

The final Diya using red, black, yellow and white paint as well as some types of lentils.

Overall view!

Overall view!

From top view, red inner and yellow border

From top view, red inner and yellow border

Black outer with white pattern, chholar dal pasted at the bottom

Black outer with white pattern, chholar dal pasted at the bottom

Side view: Mussoor Dal (raw) stuck on yellow edges

Side view: Mussoor Dal (raw) stuck on yellow edges

So, I hope you liked this 🙂 lots of love!

The Bizarre Dream

bloggy pic 3
Two-three months ago, my school had sent a note to all students. It was about a competition organized by Scholastic India which involved story-writing. Basically, it meant that school children across the country were given a chance to hand in an original story written by them on any of the topics given below:


I knew, of course, that there must be more talented children my age who loved writing who were far better then me. But I still gave my best shot. I chose the first topic, A Bizarre Dream. All my classmates expected me to turn a story in anyways, because every one knows about my special writing hobby. I can assure that they were right! 😀 Now I’ll share my story with you guys… whether I win the prize or not. I hope you like it. Here goes….

I lay on my bed staring at the night sky. The peaceful stars ushered me to the world of sleep. I felt myself dissolving….going….down, down, down…..bloggy pic
I fell with a bump on a grassy path in bright daylight. I was in a place I had never been in before, yet there was an aura of familiarity which did not frighten me. I moved on, galloping along a jade lane.
As I walked around, I suddenly could hear some distant noises. I followed that noise, and in no time I reached a merry little market place. Shouts surrounded me.
“A hot cross bun for a penny!”
“Milk straight from the cowherd!”
Various shopkeepers yelled out their products while children and mothers and fathers rushed to and fro.
“Oh, mummy, do let’s buy those cakes!”
“Fred, what do you think about these potatoes?”
I smiled at all the hustle in the marketplace. I first wondered if I should have bought anything, but it dawned upon me that since I had no idea where on Earth I was, there wasn’t really any use for me to rush into shops and buying butter. I didn’t even know if I was on Earth. It all felt very supernatural. Moreover, I didn’t have any money! Or at least I thought I didn’t. I suddenly put my hand in my pocket and miraculously pulled out ten pounds.
“Whoa,” I said to myself in amazement. My first impulse was to spend all of it on an amazing chocolate displayed grandly in one shop. Children pressed against the window and poking their mothers to buy it. But I ignored my instinct and kept going. I believed that something better was out there. So I kept walking along the green lane until I reached a funny little house-shop.
In big, black capital letters, across the door of that house was written:
I entered and was welcomed to a sunny, many windowed cottage by a tall, old, old man. His snowy beard was tucked into his belt and black eyes stared at me behind a pair of cracked glasses. There was something odd about this man, as well as something mysterious with his shop. His desk was surrounded by huge shelves, and those shelves consisted of hundreds of glass jars, which I assumed contained dreams. Perhaps it was the fact that I was used to being in a strange place, but I wasn’t as astonished as I normally would have become.
“What kind of dream might you be looking for, milady?” The man politely asked.
I replied after a few seconds of thought: “Well, I was hoping for a dream which is really, really weird. A bizarre dream, basically. One that is so strange, that I can laugh at it. Not a scary one though, for fear is the last thing I like. Before cruelty and betrayal. But that’s out of context.”
The man suddenly chuckled at my words. I went slightly red. What had I said that was so funny? I felt foolish, a ten-year old child standing next to a chuckling old man. “Ahem,” I coughed purposely, to remind him that I still existed.
The man stopped laughing, but he still had a mysterious smile on his face as though he knew something I didn’t.
“Don’t you think fear is a choice and not fact? And oh, of course, a bizarre dream! The shelf which is directly right to you is full of them. You can read the labels on them to get an idea of what the dream will be like.” He said.
I had just started to look around when a small child of about four years came into the shop. He was wearing rags. I had a feeling that he was very poor.
“Sir?” he asked the old man. “Do you happen to have a dream that can make someone happy? My Ma and Pa are very poor, sir. We live just outside your cottage. We are the shoe-polishers. I want a dream so that they can forget about their hunger. I want them to be happy. Please, do you have one?”
I was extremely touched by the little boy’s consideration and love for his parents. He was poor, but he was filled with benevolence and innocence. I was much moved.
The old man looked around at his shelves. He picked out a jar himself. On it was a label saying:
“This dream is about how a family who is poor but very kind get blessed by God. They soon live in a nice hut where they live and have a happy family. God casts a spell over their lives to make sure that they never get hurt. The family lives happily ever after.”
He handed it to the boy. “I am afraid that this one will cost ten pounds. How much money do you have, son?”
The boy sadly opened his fist to display three one-penny coins. “I am sorry sir, I don’t have enough money. I should better go.”
I was in a dilemma. What would I spend my money on? My dream, for entertainment reasons, or the boy’s dream, for a change in his life? I glanced at the shelves of bizarre dreams. They all cost more than ten. So there was no point saving it for mine. I called out “Boy!” just as he was heading out the door. He turned his head and replied, “Yes, mam?”
I ushered him back in, handed him my ten pounds. He was overcome by joy.
“Thank you, ma’am! I do not know how to express my gratitude!” I patted him and said, “You don’t have to.”
He smiled at me. I smiled at him. When the boy left, I looked back at the old man. He grinned.
“Hold on! You…” I broke off. I spoke again. “I can’t believe this. Oh, Louie Grandpa! It is you!”
He smiled. You see, in my real neighborhood, there was a little cottage where Old Louie Grandpa lived. We all called him Grandpa. He was a mysterious old creature, but everyone always went to his home for advice. He nodded in agreement.
“But right now lassie, I am a dream merchant. I am Louie Grandpa, yes, but in another world. The real one.”
I was confused when Louie Grandpa said, ‘the real world’. What did he mean? He chuckled at my expression.
“What?” I said.
“Lassie, you wanted a bizarre dream, didn’t you?” I nodded. He laughed all the more.
“What?” I said again.
“Ah, do you not see?”
“Why ask for a weird dream, when you already are in one?”
I didn’t understand. But suddenly I got it. All of this was a dream! I smiled confusedly at the old man. He smiled back. He raised his bony hand and his long fingers clicked against each other. SNAP! His fingers went. Suddenly, I felt somebody shaking me. bloggy pic 2
“Wake up, Tapasmi, or you’ll be late for school!”
I was suddenly back in my normal bed, in my normal home, from the most extraordinary place in existence. Mamma was shaking me awake.
As I changed into my school uniform, memories splashed in my mind. The market-place…the little boy….and Louie Grandpa.
I learnt a lot from my dream. Kindness, quickness. But it was imagination which stretched across my mind the most. When I walked to school that day, I saw Louie Grandpa passing by for his morning walk. One special smile and a wink- and I knew that he knew. We were more than neighbors now! No, he was a dream merchant, and I was his customer. A very special one. A dream in consciousness, and different people from different worlds! Connected in network of dreams.
So friends, this is the story of the weirdest (however delighting) thing that happened to me. The oddest situation I had been in. The story of my most bizarre dream. Tell me friend, what’s yours?