Ankur 2014 - BASC - Bengali Association of Southern California

অঙ্কুর
Ankur 2014
ANKUR
Ankur 2013
2014
Ankur 2014
2
Volume XX
October 2014
Published by the
Bengali Association of Southern California
Editor-in-Chief:
Adrija Chakrabarty
Copy Editor:
Aurnov Chattopadhyay
Design Editor:
Shreya Chattopadhyay
Art Editor:
Shivangi Das
Secretary Editors:
Sohini Halder
Rupsha Chakraborty
Editors:
Adrika Chakraborty
Sujata Chowdhury
Roop Gupta
Roddur Dasgupta
Ashmita Deb
Sambodh Mitra
Junior Editor:
Abiral Ganguly
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Table of Contents
Editorial
Adrija Chakraborty
5
Freedom: Our Right and Responsibility
Aurnov Chattopadhyay
7
America: Land of the Free
Mimi Halder
9
Musician Tansen
Abiral Ganguly
11
4 Short Stories
Rohan Chakrabortygupta
13
আমাদের পাঠশালা
Aurnov Chattopadhyay
14
The One That Rose Above
Adrija Chakraborty
15
Ma Durga
Ankita Guha
16
Durga Puja
Anya Pramanick
17
Bengali Village
Riddhi Banerjee
18
How To: Gain Freedom
Roddur Dasgupta
19
One Lazy Summer Afternoon
Arin Sasmal
20
Heart
Ayush Sen
21
Space Aliens Meet Humans
Arin Sasmal
22
Maleficent
Shivangi Das
23
Bruno
Paroma Ganguly
24
Camp Bravo
Tinni Deb
25
ট্রেনে চড়া
Indranil Ganguly
26
Dear Mom and Dad
Adrika Chakraborty
27
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Rainbow Party
Shinjini Das
29
Vignettes
Devina Sen
30
My Family is an Element
Shounak Ghosh
31
My trip to Pico Blanco
Abheek Pradhan
32
পূজা 2014
Gaurav Karande
33
Friendship is Magic
Rajan Paul
34
Gatorland
Rishi Halder
37
Eye
Sujata Chowdhury
38
The Last Petal
Mimi Halder
39
Tails
Aritro Tribedi
40
Sonic
Aritro Tribedi
40
The Ankur Team
Roop Gupta
41
The Company of Myself
Sambodh Mitra
42
Flowers
Rupsha Chakraborty
45
In MY Genes
Tinni Deb
45
Life
Shinjini Das
46
A Late Hour
Shreya Chattopadhyay
47
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Dear All,
First off, Subho Bijaya to all my respected uncles and aunties and beloved
brothers and sisters. I hope all of you have had a wonderful weekend celebrating the
coming of Ma Durga to Earth. Puja is the one weekend where we devote all of ourselves to our culture and our religion, enriching the Indian heritage we all thought we
had left behind when we came to America.
But as I grow older and study more about the history of human civilization, I
realize how blessed we are to be living in America—the land of freedom—in the 21st
century. The fact that we have the right to practice our own religion and cultivate our
culture in a foreign land so far from our home is something I am eternally grateful
for. This freedom of belief, religion, and culture is the theme for this year’s Ankur. In
India this freedom was witnessed by the whole world when the election of the new
prime minister brought in a whooping total of 66% of the people, all of whom were
using democracy to change their world. In America we see this same freedom when
we come to Puja and celebrate our heritage without fear of persecution or hate. And
again in our community we see this freedom in Ankur, a publication devoted to showcase the beautiful works and free-flowing emotion that the children of the community
come up with in their creative minds.
I have a special love for Ankur. Allowing kids of all ages to show off their talents to others in the community, Ankur is a raw expression of emotion. When I was a
kid, the first thing I would do when I arrived at the Puja Mandap was run to the registration booth in search of an Ankur. And when I did find it, I would sit with my
friends for hours, looking at each of the works, commenting on someone’s writing or
gushing about another’s painting, and truly seeing the invaluable jewels of creativity
present everywhere in our community.
However, little did I know of the people behind scenes who worked so hard to compile Ankur; now that I see all of the work the staff does to make sure we preserve everyone’s right to creative expression here in our BASC family, I understand how hard
people must work to keep their community a forum of ideas, discussion, and
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creativity. Here I would like to thank the whole editorial staff—Mimi, Aurnov, Tinni,
Rupsha, Roop, Titas, Roddur, Shivangi, Shambodh, Abiral, Shreya, Sujata,and Shukla
Mash—for your tireless efforts in making this year’s publication a success. Also, thank
you to the BASC board for providing us with this opportunity and helping us preserve
our Bengali culture. And of course, I must extend my utmost gratitude to my wonderful
community. Thank you for your submissions; your uniquely beautiful works are evidence of the richness and diversity seen here at BASC.
Thank you everyone once again and may your Puja be full of happiness and good
fortune. May Ma Durga bring more peace to this turbulent world, so people can experience the priceless freedom we take for granted each day.
Subho Bijaya.
Love,
Neela Chakrabarty
“You cannot separate peace from freedom
because no one can be at peace unless he
has freedom.”
- Malcom X
“Freedom is never voluntarily given by
the oppressor; it must be demanded by
the oppressed”
- Martin Luther King Jr.
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Freedom: Our Right and Responsibility
By Aurnov Chattopadyay
Age 15
“For to be free is not merely to cast off one's chains, but to live in a way
that respects and enhances the freedom of others.” - Nelson Mandela
Freedom is not just a right, it is a state of living. To be free is not simply
to possess the rights to convey one’s voice or to follow one’s beliefs. Freedom is a state
of empowerment to achieve what one seeks to. As a group of free, aware, and privileged youth, too often our own short term goals are the dogmatic focus of our seemingly pedestrian life. Yet, there exists a world of economic slavery tied by the chains of
poverty as half of our population lives on less than 2 dollars a day. Yet, there exists a
world of violence and extremist terrorism that coerces individuals into forsaking their
ethical dogma in order to survive. As free, aware, and privileged individuals, we
must work to truly enhance the freedom of others to the best of our capability. Our
voice must persuade the needs of those too often forgotten: the poor, the victimized,
and the voiceless. As free individuals we must not only use our own rights, but help
others find them.
“Freedom is the right to tell people what they do not want to hear.” George Orwell
Constitutionally we are granted the freedom of speech, yet our words are limited
by the parochial viewpoint of society. In life there are many things that seem too rigid to protest or seem too rude to state, but these things must be said in order to truly
improve. It is easy to ignore problems, as ignorance is bliss. But ignorance is not improvement. To truly refine something, we must constructively criticize the flaws apparent to us. If a child is blatantly singing off key, to commend her will encourage a
similar poor performance. To tell her it was good, but the pitch needs
work, encourages her to improve her future performances of the same song. Similarly if a society is being presumptuous of certain beliefs, reticently acquiescing is consenting to the ethically dubious actions of the society. On the other hand, openly protesting it will bring awareness to and lead to the addressing of such issues.
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“Responsibility is the price of freedom.” - Elbert Hubbard
With the privilege of awareness and involvement in the rich Bengali culture, we are
more aware than ever of our roots. Thousands of miles away from West Bengal, we find
a deep rich freedom in knowing our language, performing our arts, and recognizing our
achievement. The freedom of cultural exposure and true understanding comes with the
responsibility of carrying on our culture to the future. As an aware generation it is our
responsibility to educate, enforce, and evolve the culture we have been exposed to. It is
our responsibility to not only memorize and recite, but to truly analyze and interpret
the deeper subtleties in the brilliant lines of Rabindranath Tagore’s poetry. We are free
to simply view the architectural elegance of the Dakshineswar and Belur Math, but it is
our responsibility to connect with the beliefs behind it. In the temple’s serene ambience, we may find an inner connection with spirituality as we peacefully gaze into the
ebb and flow of the Ganges onto the green shores. Our generation has the freedom of
cultural involvement, but the responsibility of truly discovering ourselves in our own
roots. Through such individual discovery, we can convey our cultural heritage to future
generations.
“Freedom is not worth having if it
does not include the freedom to
make mistakes.”
- Mahatma Gandhi
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America: Land of the Free
Sohini Halder
Age: 15
When you think about America, what comes to mind? Ask almost anyone
who was raised in this nation, and they will tell you that the great country of the
United States of America encompasses the word “freedom”. True patriots they are,
reciting all 27 amendments in our Constitution with an unshakeable conviction in
the American values of freedom and equality. It is not a fault within them. From
birth we have been raised to praise America and to glorify her virtues. We have
colored in our flags with red, white, and blue crayons and visited the olive green
statue to see tangible proof of our liberties. We proudly declare that “America is a
free country!” as if we are any different than Canada, England, or any other first
world country.
And yes, these patriots are not wrong. America is a free country. Every citizen, regardless of class, education, race, or gender, has the right to vote. Whether
you are from a privileged family living in Irvine or barely making it by on minimum wage, you have the right to free public education. You are free to practice
your religion openly, to speak your mind, to peacefully assemble, and to own firearms, among many other things. So, by all definitions of the word, we are indeed
free.
The problem with this mindset is that, more often than not, it functions only
in theory. True, we are entitled to these freedoms, but they are rarely upheld. We
are past the point of defining our freedom as the rights granted to us upon a piece
of paper.
America was founded by white, middle-class men, and recent history shows
that America continues to favor them today. Marginalized groups such as people of
color and women regularly face systematic oppression, including racism and sexism. It is disheartening to realize that white men are never called back for
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“random” security checks or scrutinized before applying for bank loans. The pay gap
between men and women working the same-level job is still evident today. These micro
-aggressions are common against people of color and women and reveal the privilege
that shapes this country.
Consider the events of this summer in Ferguson, Missouri. Michael Brown, an
unarmed 18 year-old black man, was shot dead after pleading with the police not to
shoot at him. His body was left on the street for hours in public view. The area above
the city was declared a no-fly zone, which effectively kept out news helicopters attempting to cover the story. Ferguson law enforcement was given military-grade weapons to
use against the public protesters, while colored campaigners were rounded up by the
dozens and arrested for exercising their 1st Amendment rights. The actions taken by
the city of Ferguson can only be explained by the racist attitude that still prevails in
America.
Tell me, are we truly free if we live in perpetual fear of our own law enforcement? Do we really have liberty if our government can militarize the police in order to
shut down peaceful protests? How are we guaranteed freedom if people of color cannot
walk down a street without the fear of being shot down?
“This isn’t freedom. We are holding guns to everyone’s heads and calling it security.”– Captain America
The definition of freedom has evolved. What constitutes being “free” today is not
identical to what it was fifty years ago. If we hold these liberties within our hands but
cannot exercise them, then we are not truly free. We condemn countries we consider
less free than our own but refuse to accept that there is a lot for us to improve upon
ourselves. However, I believe that we can use the same devotion we use to glorify
America to help better our country. We live a privileged life and enjoy our freedoms,
and it is our responsibility to make sure our fellow citizens enjoy them equally.
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Musician Tansen
Abiral Ganguly
Age 13
During my most recent trip to India, this story was told to me by one of my grandaunts. Mia Tansen was known as the mighty Mughal Emperor Akbar’s legendary courtmusician. As one of the nine gems of the royal court, he lived in Delhi and Agra, but his
early life began faraway in central India. Tansen was born as Ramtanu Pande in a Hindu
Brahmin family of Gwalior. From the age of ten, Swami Haridas, the acclaimed vocalist
and composer from Vrindavan taught Ramtanu classical music. This went on for eleven
years. Haridas was an ardent devotee of Lord Krishna and at one time part of the stellar
Gwalior court of Raja Man Singh Tomar (1486-1516 AD). Haridas specialized in the
Dhrupad style.
When Ramtanu grew into a young man, he decided to honor his deceased father’s last
wish. So, for the next two years he learnt music from Muhammad Gaus. The latter arranged his meeting with another great singer, Rani Mriganaini of Gwalior. Soon, the two
became mutual admirers and Ramtanu often stayed over at the palace and sang for the
queen. With time, he fell in love with Hussaini, a beautiful Muslim woman he met in the
palace every day. She was the Rani’s lady-in-waiting. In order to marry Hussaini, Ramtanu Pande changed his name to Ata Ali Khan and converted to Islam. Mohammad Gaus presided over the marriage. When his father figure Gaus died he
gave all his wealth and home to the Tansen and his beloved wife Hussaini. The couple
had four sons and a daughter named Saraswati. Every evening the entire family huddled in the family room and practiced for hours. Tansen and his youngest son Vilas
Khan’s reputation spread quickly and all over the land.
Few years later, the Raja of Rewas, a great patron of music, invited Tansen to be his
court-singer. Tansen accepted. One autumn, Emperor Akbar came to visit
the Rajput king who had sworn his allegiance to the Mughal Empire. Akbar became
equally charmed by Tansen’s compositions. To please the emperor and secure his life-
12
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long protection, the Raja of Tewas offered Tansen to become the court musician of
the Mughal Empire. Akbar was delighted and in 1556 AD, Tansen and his family moved
to the Mughal palaces. Tansen sang endlessly; he sang at dawn to awaken the emperor and his nobles and at night before they retired for the night. In the morning
he often sang the Raag Todi and Raag Bhairab. Often, Akbar visited Tansen’s residence and without interrupting him, listened to his singing
of Raag Darbari Kanada etc.
Some of the courtiers grew jealous of the musician. So, they stole an expensive necklace
Akbar had given Tansen and sold it to a conspiring jeweler in the capital. Then they accused Tansen of selling the royal gift in the city market. After all, selling any royal gift
to anyone was considered illegal in those days. Akbar angrily threatened to banish the
musician if he failed to find the necklace. Deeply worried, Tansen rushed to meet the
Raja of Rewas. The Raja asked him not to worry and requested the musician to sing unusual melodies. So, Tansen sang Raag Sukal Bilawal and Raag Megh. The performance
was so touching that as a gift the Raja gave his dear friend an extraordinarily pricy jeweled sandal.
After returning to the Mughal court, Tansen stated that he could not recover the necklace but offered to replace it with the hugely pricy jeweled sandal and gave it to the emperor. Noticing Tansen’s great effort and gesture, Akbar realized that the jeweled sandal Tansen was now offering him was far more special than the necklace he had given
the musician. The emperor asked to be forgiven. But Tansen’s foes in the
court secretly refused to give up and vowed again to ruin his reputation. The next day
in the court, their leader Shaukat Khan questioned the talent of the musician.
They urged Akbar to order Tansen to sing the Dipak Raag and light an oil lamp. It was
likely that the heat generated by this Raag could turn the singer’s body into ashes. But,
sure of Tansen’s success, Akbar ordered him to sing the very difficult Raag. The legend
nervously requested two weeks of preparation time. The emperor agreed. At
home, Tansen labored to figure out how best to handle the upcoming challenge. Finally
he decided to take the help of his daughter, Saraswati, and his teacher Haridas Goswami’s daughter, Rupavati. He advised them to perfect Raag Megh in
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yone in the palace began to sweat profusely. The lamp lit up. To prevent excessive
heat, he two girls began singing the Raag Megh at the perfect time and clouds quickly
covered the sky. The air began to cool sharply. Heavy rains followed. Tansen ran out to
greet the downpour. Though he overcame his life’s greatest challenge, he
fell gravely ill. Akbar prayed for Tansen’s recovery and promised the Almighty to feed
the poor for eleven days. A few days later, Tansen recovered. The entire city and empire
rejoiced after the return of Hindustan’s greatest singer to Emperor Akbar’s court.
4 Short Stories
Rohan Chakrabortygupta
Age: 4
Boy and the new house
One time there was a house. Inside the house there was a boy. He wanted to go outside. When he opened the patio door a cockroach came inside. Very soon from one
cockroach it became thousands of cockroaches. The boy could not go outside any
more. So the boy’s mama said that they should buy a new house and that would a good
idea. Then they bought a house. But that was a haunted house. In the house there were
lots of ghosts in the kitchen. And the ghosts bit everyone on their legs. So mama, daddy, boy and sister went to the doctor and the doctor fixed their legs. Then his mama
bought a new house and they all went to the new house.
Monkey and the Tree
There was a monkey. He lived in a banana tree and he ate lots of bananas. One day a
tree cutter came and cut down his tree and the monkey was very sad. So the monkey
went to the tree cutter and told him to plant a banana tree. Then the tree cutter did
that. When the trees became big he started living in the tree again.
Hippo and the toys
One time there was a Hippo. The hippo was playing with his toys. Then he became
tired and when he was sleeping a bad man came and took the toys. He threw the toys
in the fire. When the hippo woke up in the morning he went outside to look for his toys
but he did not see his toys. The hippo was very sad and then he told his mama and
daddy to buy him more toys. When he got new toys he was happy.
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Lion’s house
Once upon a time there was a baby lion. The lion was trying to make his house but he could not
make it. So he kept on trying but still he could not do it. The lion found a mail box and he
thought of making it his house. Next day the mail man came and put mails in the mail box and
he did not see the lion. The lion got hurt by the mails and he got small cuts. And then the mail
man closed the mail box and the lion was very scared because inside the mail box it was very
dark. Then a man came to take the mail and he saw the baby lion. He took out the baby lion and
kissed him. The man then built a small house for the baby lion and the baby lion stayed for ever
and ever.
আমাদের পাঠশালা
অর্ণব চট্টোপোধ্যোয়
Age 15
বোাংলো শিখট্বো বট্ল আশি ,
পোঠিোলোট্ে এট্ে শিলোি ,
বোাংলো পড়ো ?
নোটক করো ?
ককোনটো ভোলট্বট্েশিলোি ?
ববিোখ, বজযষ্ঠ, আষোঢ়, শ্রোবর্,
এক, দুই, শেন, একি কগোনো,
পোঠিোলোট্ে নো এট্ল কেো,
এেব আশি শিখেোিই নো ।
বোাংলো স্কুট্লর দোদো শদশদ ,
এট্ক এট্ক কট্লজ কগল ,
আিোর হলোি দোদো শদশদ ,
কিোটরো েব পড়ট্ে এল ।
দোদো আিোয় কখলোয় হোরোয় ,
জোট্ননো শকন্তু বোাংলো পড়ো ,
িক্ত বোনোন ভু ট্ল যোব ,
দোদুর িে বোাংলো শিট্খ ,
ভু লট্বো নো কেো বোাংলো পড়ো ,
বলব আশি বোাংলো িড়ো ।
শরহোেণোট্লর হই চই আর ,
‘অ’ এ অজগর শদট্য় শুরু,
েোরপট্রট্ে বোাংলো কলখো ,
আিোট্দর কিোট নদীর েট্ে ,
েহজপোট্ঠর বোাংলো কিখো ।
পুট্জোর েিয় নোটক করো ।
এে শদট্ন যো বুট্েশি ,
কেই কথোটোই বলট্ে আেো ,
“ কিোট্দর গরব , কিোট্দর আিো ,
আ িশর বোাংলো ভোষো ” ।
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The One That Rose Above
Adrija Chakraborty
Age: 16
It means one who is born in the mountains. The daughter of the Himalayas. Also another name for the Hindu goddess Parvati, deity of strength. But I am not one
for mountain climbing and I cannot think of one sport I am actually good at. But I like
my name. It is mine. My family had decided long before I was born that my name was
going to be one of a kind—unique, like they hoped their baby girl would be.
My name was the one that rose above. All of my family members had taken days
to decide what their firstborn would be called. A few wanted something religious; others wanted modern names. Some sought a pretty name, while another half
dissented and argued a name should have a meaning. Adrija was a compromise. It was
religious and modern; it had a meaning and a soothing sound. Like the mountains I
was named after, my name was one that rose above the others. My family members
filled all their hope in this name and prayed that I become someone different. I don’t
know if that will happen, because my name is not my destiny. It is only what I make
out of it.
However, I do feel that I would be different if my name was something else. I would
not be that girl with the strange name. So much would change. No more question
marks tacked at the end of Adrija or confused glances as a new friend or teacher calls
out my name. I feel like my name would just be another name, forgotten as time goes
by.
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Ma Durga
Ankita Guha
Age: 12
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Durga Puja
Anya Pramanick
Age 7
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Bengali Village
Riddhi Banerjee
Age: 1o
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How to: Gain Freedom
By: Roddur Dasgupta
Age: 14
When we think of the First World, we generally think of the word developed.
This could include a basic infrastructure that provides sustenance we often take
for granted; electricity, (heated) water, freeways, highways, roads, fire
departments, hospitals, bridges, and everything else that is the product of
industrialization. On top of this, most importantly, is the idea of
democracy. Every country we consider to be part of the First World upholds an
efficient form of government and puts the power in the hands of the people.
Looking back at how these nations came to be, we see one common theme:
skepticism. From questioning the Roman Catholic Church’s legitimacy to the
uprising against British rule in India, questioning authority played the biggest
role in the progression of democracy. By questioning the Roman Catholic
Church’s interpretation of the Bible, the common people were able to branch out
into new forms of Christianity by focusing on individualism and interpreting it
for themselves. By revisiting ancient Greek and Roman scriptures which
outlined the fundamental principles of democracy, philosophers were able to
spark the massive revival of classical culture, or the Renaissance, which lead
to questioning the values of the Church and the growth of humanitarianism.
By questioning Britain’s unjust hold over India and peacefully revolting,
Mahatma Gandhi and his followers were able to drive out the British.
India, along with all other First World countries, is definitely fortunate have a
developed democracy. However, it is far from perfect; from law enforcement to
the caste system, corruption is evidently a problem. No First World country is
perfect (although certain ideas are subjective or opinionated), the US is
currently having problems with racial segregation and gay rights, for example.
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One Lazy Summer Afternoon
Arin Sasmal
Age: 11
During the summer my family came over for a pool party at my house. All of
my uncles, aunts, and cousins came. They all brought something for the pool
party. When I saw them I was super excited and I felt like I was on cloud
nine.
I was the first one to jump into the pool. Everybody came into the pool and
started to play around with water guns, a ball, and some other toys. While
we were playing, something strange happened. I heard a queer noise and it
sounded like a low rumbling sound. One of my cousins said that he
was being sucked into something. He was scared to his wits, and I later realized that it was a water cleaner. We started to play a game of catch and
some of us would try to jump in the air and catch the ball, and sometimes
when we missed someone else that was playing tried to catch it. It was a lot
of fun. Some of us went under the water and swam across the whole entire
pool. My cousin thought that he saw something in in the shallow end of the
swimming pool and he said it was blue. I went over to check, and I told him
that it was a turtle made out of tiles. We were also seeing who
could breathe the longest in the water. When we were playing one of my
cousins jumped of the high part in my pool. One of my younger cousins was
scared to somersault into the pool from a high end and I taught her how to
do it. My other cousin asked me why he smacked into something when he
was swimming. I went to look at it and told him it was another step. When
everyone was finished we went inside.
We all went upstairs to play on the Wii and to watch a movie. We were all
playing different games. All of a sudden Landon was missing. We checked
everywhere, but we did not find him. We checked outside and informed our
parents. We thought we checked everywhere, when I thought of the toys that
they were playing with. I checked behind the stack of toys we found him.
When we were about to watch a movie the parents called us all for lunch. We
all went downstairs to have our lunch. After we had our lunch we went upstairs to watch a movie. After the movie my younger cousins were playing
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around and they trying to catch everybody. They were also playing with my toys and
seeing which one could go farther than the other one. Later we started to play with other toys and on my older cousin’s phone and playing on all his games that he had. They
were all sharing his phone. We were having a merry time. We were doing everything
we could.
We were going to watch a few more movies. We were also going to play a lot of more
games. We were also going to play some games of tag. My younger cousins started to
run around a lot and then making a lot of noise too. After they stopped we watched another movie. After that we all played some catch with my ball and then everyone had to
leave after a long day.
Heart
Ayush Sen
Age 10
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Space Aliens Meet Humans
Arin Sasmal
Age: 11
One beautiful summer evening, my scientist friends Ayush, Indranil, Shounak, and I
were out star gazing. We saw a big meteor shower come down on
Earth. Ayush said "Let’s go and see what it is." When we got to the site we saw a couple
of moving things. At first we were scared that they would come and attack us like in the
movies.
We got some courage, and started moving towards them. We started calling them an
extraterrestrial thing. When they sensed us, we thought we were in trouble.
They saw us, and we started to run but they caught up. We noticed that there were at
least a thousand of them and we stopped. They all looked like humans, so we started to
realize that they were survivors of a colony. They all knew English because the World
government had befriended them before. They told us they were attacked by rouge aliens led by an evil ruler. We promised to help them find shelter.
We told them if they followed us they could get help from the government. They said no
because their children were small and some were not ready to walk. We asked if they
knew how to drive and they said yes. So with all of our money we bought a big truck
with T.V. We bought a cart where the men would stay and a place for the women to
stay. We bought ten microwaves for them, a lot of food, and we got them a few mattresses and pillows. The ride to Washington D.C. was really long so for the whole trip it
took us 39hrs. We were tired when we got there.
After we got to the White House we emailed the president to come out and meet
us. The President greeted us and asked the reason of the visit. One of the human looking extraterrestrial thing said the rogue bad guy was back and took out our colony. So
the president reassured help for them and then he told them he would find out if they
can go back home soon.
Later the president was told that the army that attacked the colony was very tough and
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them. We said that we are scientists and if we can create a special type of laser gun
then we can fight to get their home back. We would need a lot of electricity and we
would need the whole world to help us. An emergency panel was set up; all the global
leaders were contacted. When the president got nod of cooperation from many allies, he called us back. We went back to our laboratory, and told the other scientists to
start making strong ships. It took us nearly a year to make it, but when we were done
we were ready to fight. Soon we got the lasers gun done and we got the troops
ready. All the scientists got on board and so did the engineers to make sure the ship
didn’t overheat.
When we were ready, the military made us take off really fast. Oh boy, they
were very strong. When we went up we noticed the ship was above and told everybody
that the Earth was the next target. The colony members heard this and went
to attack the ship with us. During the battle, guns were fired and many men and women died. When we won it felt like a loss as a lot of scientists, engineers, and military
personal had died. Thank God that my friends and I were safe.
After that the colony went back to their planet sad-hearted, but happy for the
win. Everyone was happy to be
safe. We had a great adventure.
Maleficient
Shivangi Das
Age: 16
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Bruno
Paroma Ganguly
Age: 8
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Camp Bravo
TInni Deb
Age: 13
Camp Bravo was a field trip to the San Bernardino National Forest where we improved our skills in theatre and dancing. This field trip was eligible to musical theatre
students only. We left for camp after sixth period on Monday, September 8, 2014. That
is when the journey of making new friends, learning, and fun started.
At Camp Bravo we had a total of five workshops. These five workshops were Improv, Comedia, Shakespeare, Dance, and Team Building. We only had to do four everyday though. In improv we learned how think on the spot. An activity that I participated
in improv was that you have a partner. Then your partner or you go outside the room.
When your partner comes back in you have to try to make them do activity. Accepting
another person’s ideas at all times is another skill I also learned in this workshop. Comedia was one of more active workshops that we endured. In Comedia I learned how to
become different characters through masks. My favorite character was Ardicino. The
Shakespeare workshop taught me to really look at the meaning of words and understand them so well that I can interpret the words in my own way. Dance was the most
active workshop. My partner and I had to jazz walk across the floor. Matt, the dance
teacher, taught us to do pirouette and head spot. That day I learned to do a double pirouette. Team building was the funniest out of all of the workshops. We worked together
to tie a knot around a tree but, your right hand cannot let go. Just to make this more
challenging we could only talk in gibberish. Team building taught us to communicate
better with your teamates.
My favorite activity during Camp Bravo was either free time or after lights out in
our cabin. Free time was so much fun. I got to become really close friends with most
7th graders. This makes me feel happy because I put a smile on their face. We were
playing on this playground and there was a tire swing. Owen, Noosha, and I all got on
the tire swing. So we are all squished together and good Sameera decides to push us.
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names of people in musical theatre and you choose who you would marry, kiss, and kill. We don’t ever offend anyone we do it just for fun. In
our cabin we were talking about how most 8th grade girls thought the
medic, Paul, was good looking. Sameera started doing parodies to songs
with an Indian accent. This made us laugh so much! I don’t have a
least favorite activity. I made a memory with someone no matter what
we were doing. Even when my friends and I hiked down for about 30
minutes, which was really tiring, we made so many jokes and tried
pushing a rock down a hill. Each activity is special in its own way.
Camp Bravo was one of the most spectacular experiences in my
life. I will forever remember the memories I made with everyone in musical theatre. I absolutely recommend this one week camp to all of my
fellow friends. A few things to remember while at Camp Bravo is to be
open to new ideas, try to get to know everyone, don’t be afraid of embarrassing yourself, and the most important thing is to have fun!
ট্রেনে চড়া
By Indranil Ganguly
Age: 10
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Dear Mom and Dad
Adrika Chakraborty
Age: 16
I meant to be a fighter,
to climb across every wall, to swim the seven
seas, all with every intention of reaching the
rainbow.
But at times the wall were just too high,
and I saw sharks in the outline of the waves.
I meant to love myself,
To acknowledge my imperfections with a
welcome smile
But my self consciousness felt like a dark,
ominous shadow looming over my life.
and I believed the instant I tripped, I would be
engulfed in its black cape.
I meant to never make mistakes,
To stroll through my life with swinging arms
and a skip in my step
But there were days where all I could do was
Limp,
I learned that this life will hit you, hard, in the
face, wait for you to get back up so it can kick
you in the stomach.
I meant to openly embrace anyone and
everyone
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But my eyes were just too big, their voice too
loud
compared to my naive, fragile heart,
whispering deep inside me.
I meant to be a savior,
To be like the shining beacon of hope, the one
who held her hands up to catch the broken
shards of suffering and pain,
But those shards were of glass, and they
scratched and cut my palms
I realized there is hurt, here, that cannot be
fixed by band-aids or poetry.
I meant to be the perfect daughter,
The text book definition of selflessness,
obedience, and love
But somewhere along the journey,
that dictionary was lost in a twister of
confusion and ignorance.
I have learned so much in this ever expanding
horizon of life,
and I thank you for always being there, with
words as soothing as warm honey
You have accepted me, never mind my faults,
and when I lose,
you are there in the sidelines, with a warm hug
and a box of chocolates,
telling me no matter how many land mines
erupt in a minute be sure your mind lands on
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Rainbow Party
Shinjini Das
Age: 12
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Vignettes
Devina Sen
Age: 16
ORGANIZATION IN MY BRAIN
There are three worlds that always swirl around me – the household, the school and
the most malleable of all, the stage. They all have one thing in common. Responsibilities. Sometimes, I don’t mind them, like when Ma asks me to set the table as she
sings. I see in her voice stars speckled across the night sky, with jasmine swaying softly with the breeze. But other times, I hate it. Like the carloads of calculus and calculator work accumulating on the corner of my desk. Crazy, I go crazy. But the stage…
The black wood beckoning, the purple walls so welcoming. I am responsible only for
myself here and when I close my eyes, I can smell the sound of salty waves crashing
under the moon.
So I make lists like cubbies, stuffing responsibilities and hopes in every nook and
cranny I find. Bagels. Read pages 132-146. Complete worksheet. Choreograph a dance
for extra credit in Spanish but make sure it doesn’t look stupid or too try hard-ish and
remember that she gave a hip hop sing so you probably shouldn’t try to learn Flamenco moves through You Tube videos unless you’re really committed and confident
enough to perform it in front of the other kids (maybe record it but then don’t watch it
or you’ll start criticizing it and retake it fifteen more times). Math homework. Ugh.
So I close my eyes. The salt on my food from the sea.
SONGS OF SUNDAY
Sundays, I stay at home with my family. It’s peaceful and lazy and time drags. It is the
time when there are many hours left in the day only they are running quickly out of
grasp because Monday morning always approaches, sly and discreetly, so before you
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coming week. No, that’s a lie, we dance a lot in my house. Sunday songs glide through
the hazy air as we jump around with our arms out and our voices overpower the stereo. Demons. Sultans of Swing, the Alchemy live version, of course. Icarus. Song after
song. Dance after dance. Sunday evening, the sweet guitar chords and deep drum beats
of instrumental music grace our home. We share moments of raw bliss as we bask in
the bright blue of every beat. Sunday night, all the homework I forgot rushes in like a
tide so (naturally) I push it aside for an hour to jump and twist to my party music. It’s
quite relaxing, really. I like the feeling of my heartbeat shaking through my chest, reminding me that I’m still alive, that life won’t wait for me to gather myself together so I
should make the best of what I can.
My Family is an Element
Shounak Ghosh
Age: 12
My family is an element.
My dad is an electron, separated from us while working in another state like the
electron rotates around the nucleus of an atom.
My mom is a molecule because she keeps my brother and me together just like molecules keep atoms together.
My brother is a neutron because he doesn’t get affected by what other people do just
like the neutron has no charge.
I am the proton because I say to my brother that he will be successful in life just like
the proton has positive charge.
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My trip to Pico Blanco
Abheek Pradhan
Age:10
(Background info.)
Around a month ago I went to a camp called Pico Blanco and stayed there for a week
with my Boy Scout Troop (127). The drive their was long and boring, over 6 hours! We
stopped to eat at IN-N-OUT 5 hours in to the trip and moved on. By the way, when boy
scouts travel long distances we have numerous parents transport their own kid and
some others to the destination.
(The actual story, )
When we Got to Pico Blanco, the first thing we did was unload and the staff gave us a
tour, It was basically a giant camp ground with little to none actual buildings. We were
there with about 9 other troops from California (250 or so kids). After the tour, we set
camp and set up our tents and went to the campfire with all the other troops. After the
camp fire we went to sleep.
Monday: When we woke up we went to the Mess Hall( where we eat every meal of the
day), pretty much the only building that wasn't completely dirty, and had breakfast. I
think it was a hash brown sandwich, with eggs. After that we filled in these cards that
gave proof that we were talking the right merit badge. After that obviously, we went to
merit badge classes. I took wood carving, movie making, first aid and swimming. After
merit badges we had a few hours of free time to do whatever we want. Then, we went
to dinner and went to sleep.
Tuesday: On the next day we did everything we did on Monday except different food
at lunch breakfast, etc:
Wednesday: We had no merit badges (break day) so we went on a 17.5 mile hike. An
unfortunate event happened during the hike, sadly.
As we were hiking one of the scouts stepped on a bee hive and triggered all the bees,
they chased us around and stung a few campers over 8 times! Luckily I only got stung
once. After we got back from the hike all of us were grumpy and mad at the stupid
camp so called Pico Blanco. Then We had dinner and went to sleep.
Thursday: We basically did the same thing we did on Monday and Tuesday but, while
I was wood carving something I cut myself with a chisel and had to go to the med lodge
( the in camp hospital) . At the Med they declared if had to go to the hospital to get
stitches.
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Hospital: It was a hour drive to the hospital and it was really boring. When we
finally got there it turns out that I didnt need stitches and had to get glue ( which
was better). So.. they poured glue on my hand and made me put a glove on. We
ate at R.G's and then went back to camp.
Friday: Same thing as Monday, Tuesday, etc: But we got our completed merit
badge forms. I passes woodcarving, moviemaking and first aid, but I failed swimming cause I couldn't swim cause of my cut.
Saturday: We ate breakfast, put away our tents, and drove the 8 hour traffic
drive back home.
Facts: Pico Blanco is a real place along the coast of California near Carmel, or
Big Sur ( if you don't know where any of these places are, let's just say its near
San Francisco). And I did go to Pico Blanco with my Boy Scout troop. It is a real
camp and it is fun. EVERYTHING I did/told in the story ARE ACTUALLY real.
For ex. I did cut my finger, and I DID go to the hospital cause of it. My TROOP
DID get chased my Bees, and 2 people did get stung over 8 times! Thank you for
reading my story.
_______________________________________________________
পূজা 2014
By Gaurav Karande
Age 7
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Friendship is Magic
Rajan Paul
Age:16
Recently, I came across a strange phenomenon that attracted my attention – the
brony. A brony is a term used to describe a mature male viewer of the show My Little
Pony: Friendship is Magic, often abbreviated as MLP. The word “brony” comes from
the combination of two words; a “bro” who loves “ponies.” A single male fan is referred to as a brony, but multiple male fans of the show are collectively referred to as
bronies. Lately, bronies have become somewhat of a hot topic, and they have had segments dedicated to them by popular radio shows such as NPR and think tanks like the
PBS Idea Channel. After coming across one of these segments, I decided to do a little
bit of research and find out what all the hype was about.
The first thing I did as part of my research was to perform a quick little background
check. I visited what is arguably the internet’s best source of information, Wikipedia,
and checked out the listing for MLP. After doing a quick scan, all I could gather was
that it looked like any old kid’s show, particularly a show aimed at very young girls.
However, this did not deter me as all. As an avid lover of cartoons, this peaked my interest even more. It led me to wonder how such a show could attract such a dedicated
mature male audience.
The second step was to watch the show itself. Luckily for me, the show’s first three
seasons are available to instantly stream on Netflix. So I sat down on my living room
couch, intending to only watch the first few episodes. Truthfully, although I generally
try to be a very open-minded person, I was skeptical. Going in to it, I thought MLP
was just going to be something I wouldn’t be able to like, and the best I could do was
try and understand why others enjoyed it.
While I was watching the first episode, discomfort plagued me. My mother had decid-
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and forth between me and the television. She inquired why I was watching
“a show like this,” and I responded that it was all part of a research project I
had been assigned at school. She left the matter alone, but after that, I
could not help but remain a little uncomfortable.
As I continued to watch MLP, something amazing occurred. All the embarrassment I had about watching this show in front of my mother faded away.
Now why did something like that happen? It is because I had nothing to be
embarrassed about. There is no shame in watching something that is absolutely spectacular, and that is exactly what I was doing. Although it may be
difficult to understand the attraction in watching magical talking ponies
learn the importance of friendship; that is exactly where the attraction lies.
I continued to watch the first season of the show, and a change transpired
within me. I started to fall in love with the heartwarming and sincere nature of the show. The themes that the show presented were fascinating, and
I encountered thought-provoking subjects such as morality and honesty.
Feeling the earnestness of the show bolstered a sense of satisfaction within
my heart, and I honestly could not stop watching. I stayed up until five in
the morning watching all the MLP that Netflix had to offer.
The show’s themes, characters, and ideas are all genuine and touching, and
it was much more enjoyable than most of the humor driven comedy shows
that one finds on TV nowadays, like Two and a Half Men or The Big Bang
Theory.
After completing the second step of my research, and taking a good long
nap, I followed up with the third step. I began to look up and immerse myself into the brony community. And I have to say, I was not disappointed.
The community celebrates the show using image macros, fanfiction, music,
costumes, radio shows, and a whole ton of amazing fan art. I have spent
enough time on Tumblr to know good fan art when I see it, and bronies have
made some of the best fan art I have seen in my life.
Now although the brony community is a wonderful and magical place, it faces challenges much like Twilight Sparkle and her friends do. Because the
main target audience of MLP is girls, ages two to eleven, many people feel
that all mature males who enjoy the show harbor some sort of deviant behavior. Now, although this is a complete misconception that is extremely incorrect, it does raise an interesting issue regarding stereotyped concepts of
masculinity.
36
Ankur 2014
I feel that masculinity is a very vague concept. It is defined as the
“possession of qualities traditionally associated with men.” However, this
brings up another interesting question. Who associates these certain qualities with men? I am led to believe that society develops these ideas of masculinity and femininity, and I find this to be a huge concern. I believe it is a
concern, because these misconceptions fuel hate towards a community that
supports a show whose main themes are centered around love and tolerance.
John Stuart Mill, an English philosopher, once said that “We tend to accept
whatever is usual as natural.” Bronies challenge this usual by going against
the preconceived nature of masculine media consumption. It is stereotypical
to assume that girls are supposed to watch beautiful princesses and that
boys are supposed to watch violent shows in which two enemies fight to the
death. But the point that I am trying to make is that no one should be assuming such things.
Although it may seem that such notions of masculinity or femininity are
fixed, in actuality, they are quite fluid. For example, within the last century,
it was unheard for women to be wearing pants. Also interestingly, within
the last century, pink was, at one point, considered to be more of a masculine color, and it was the ideal color for young boys’ clothing. However, in the
present day, women wear pants and pink is considered to be emasculating.
Gender roles are old and outdated for the ever-evolving society that we live
in today. I mean, having such large mature male audience only signifies that
My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is just as masculine as it is feminine.
Society must learn to look at the world from different perspectives and to
stop clutching so tightly to its stereotypes. I am proud to enjoy a show which
teaches the concepts of love, honesty, perseverance, and friendship.
Also, my favorite character from MLP is Princess Celestia. I feel she is
strong, beautiful, noble, and intelligent. I greatly admire these qualities in
her, and I feel that she serves to be a great mentor to Twilight Sparkle and
her friends.
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Gatorland
Rishi Halder
Age 9
This summer my family went to Florida. For a lot of our trip, we went to amusement
parks and rode the attractions. Afterwards, we went to a park named “Gatorland”. It is
a place full of alligators. Not one, not two, but hundreds of them.
When we checked into the park, my sister and I eagerly waited to go zip-lining. We had
to wait, so we watched alligators, snakes and birds. The alligator’s backs were thorny
and sharp. They swam under the water. The snakes were very frightening and they
slithered around a lot. The birds flew constantly from their bird houses. A special type
of alligator we saw was called the “leucisinistic alligator”. It was separated from the
other alligators because they were not friendly. The alligator glared at me when I
looked at it.
Next, we went on a train ride around the park. We saw deer, alligators, and snakes. After the train ride, we went to a funny alligator show. There were two angry alligators. Two people had chicken in their hands and they fed the alligators. The alligators
would jump out of the water and grab the chicken out of their hands and eat it. It was
hilarious!
After the alligator show, we went to the bird house. My dad bought some colorful birds
seeds so that my sister and I could feed the birds. When all the different colored birds
flew around, their colors blurred together like a rainbow. Most of the birds were small,
but only two of them were humongous! These birds crawled up our head and arms.
Their claws were very sharp though and it tickled me.
Finally, the time came for us to zip-line. We went inside a cramped shack and there
were two men who helped us put on the gear on. There was a neon orange belt
strapped to the upper portion of my body and a lime yellow belt fastened to the lower
portion. The harness was connected to a hook that held us. There were a total of nine
people in our group including the guides. My dad and sister and I were going but my
mom refused to go zip-lining because she was going to faint if she did.
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When we went outside, we were all scared and there were towers we had to zip-line
across. As I went from the first tower to the second tower, I saw all the alligators chopping their jaws at me. I was so frightened but it felt like I was superman flying across
the towers. When you jump of the towers then it feels like you are going to fall for a second but you don’t. In the middle of zip-lining you can see a beautiful view. You can see
the train, alligator shows, bird houses, and all the animals.
As we approached the last tower I looked over to my right and saw my sister challenge
me to a race to the finish. I scowled at my sister and accepted the challenge. When we
went my sister sped ahead and I lifted my knees to try and speed up. My sister was still
ahead of me and she reached the finish line first. Obviously, my sister won the race because she was heavier than me.
My experience with zip-lining was incredible. Zip-lining felt like flying like a free bird. I
will always remember zip-lining because it was the bravest thing I did. I suggest everyone try zip-lining at least once.
Eye
Sujata Chowdhury, Age: 14
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The Last Petal
Mimi Halder
Age:15
Fresh from the gardens, the winter rose came
Blissfully pure, its innocence to blame
Budding from the ground with its darkened red glow
The color of blood, pricking petals of its own
With thorns entwined around it, the piercing frost could not bite
The rose stood alone against the darkening light
Taller it grew, the strongest of them all
Then
Winter blizzards hit, causing winter’s wilted fall.
One by one, the petals hit the ground silently
Thorns, deadly daggers, ripped apart the blackened leaves
Chilly winds blew apart the fragile fragments of the flower
Chilling whispers of the storm still echo, growing louder
The last petal stood weeping, crumpled in the snow
Red against white, bruises against blows
Hail and sleet passed and spring brought new day
The last storm, the last memory, the last petal washed away.
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Tails
Aritro Tribedi
Age 9
Sonic
Aritro Tribedi
Age 9
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The Ankur Team
Roop Gupta
Age 13
Every year we have our annual Durga Pujo, where we have hundreds of people,
food, lots of fun, prayers, and last but not least it’s that time of the year when we publish our one and only “Ankur Magazine”. Ankur is a great magazine where kids of all
ages can submit drawings, essays, poems, and anything they can think of and it is published into a magazine for all of us to read.
Ankur is awesome and all, but it's no easy task putting it together. That’s a whole
other story, which I’ll be talking about. Around July of every year our two head members of Ankur, Apu Kaku and Shukla Mashi, gather kids of ages between 12 and 18 to be
a part of the “Ankur Editorial Team”. The team consists of an editorial team that has
about 8 to 10 kids and one editor-in-chief, who this year was our awesome Neela Didi.
We all come together and send emails among one another, participate in conference
calls, and then take one whole day to put the magazine together. As multiple kids send
in their submissions, each one of us has a shift in which we upload their submission,
send them a confirmation email, and then load it onto our Skydrive. Then, every week
or so, all of us on the team and the two head members participate in a conference call
where we discuss how things are going, how many submissions we have, and how to go
ahead with the future plans. While all this is going on, we are constantly sending out
mass emails to all our BASC members notifying them about the deadlines and giving
them reminders to submit their work.
Eventually, this all leads up to the day that we all spend about ten hours working
on this magazine. The whole team meets at Apu Kaku’s house and we all bring our laptops and the mindset to work hard. Usually, the editor-in-chief starts us off by opening
the “Publisher” program and doing the first few pages. Then, we all take turns doing a
few pages of the magazine. Finally, we do our finishing touches, and wrap things up. It
is a long, hard process, but being on the Ankur team is a lot of fun working with all
your friends and helping put together the fantastic magazine that you are reading right
now.
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The Company of Myself
Sambodh Mitra
Age 13
According to my mother, the first book I read when I was two was a book about the
Great War. Strangely enough, the book affected me enough to put an eternal sense of
fear in my head, warning me to stay away from others, so I could never be hurt. Maybe
such terrible things wouldn't have happened if everyone just stayed with themselves.
So, I always stayed with the company of myself. If I did have one sole ally, it was a
book. Such things would take me to worlds of fantasy, adventure, mystery, and happiness. I preferred the worlds of dreams more than the world I was in. With the stories of
Al Capone, World War II, and other terrible things, there was no reason to stay in such
a world. As you can probably tell, I was never an ordinary child. My olive-green pallor
mixed with my long-ish dark hair and lithe body attracted a lot of other children, but I
wasn’t good company. I never spoke, still preferring the company of myself over anything else, really. My misanthropic and reclusive nature naturally warded off all of my
well-wishers. While all of the six year-olds were playing video games on the new arcades that cropped up at the five-and-dime stores or playing football and soccer outside, I was constantly inside my house, reading, only coming out of my shell to eat, go
to school, and when my parents ordered me to go out and play. But after a while, my
parents gave up on me, because I still kept up well in school. Years passed, and my intelligence allowed me to skip grades, until I was an eleven year-old mixed in with burly
knuckle-draggers in 9th grade. My cynicism mixed with my pale skin and intelligence
stymied nearly all of the bullies and other kids who felt that they had something to do
to me. The few people who actually threatened me, or tried to, found themselves on the
ground with a broken nose as I walked away. Eventually, my parent took me to a psychiatrist. I ended up analyzing him more than he did to me. While driving back in the
night rain, our car was crushed by a drunk driver. I was the sole survivor in our car.
While I was taken to the ER, the other driver skipped away, unscathed. My life took a
dark turn, or should I say darker, after that. After a week or so, the nurse came into my
empty hospital ward, with the window down, and the fire escape ladder hanging down
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not that easy to come across, so my main worry was being mugged. However, I kept
myself well-protected, and safe. I would often bitterly think to myself that my dream of
isolating myself from the world had finally come true. As the days passed, the darkness
in me grew until it threatened to engulf me. I was found in January 12, 1983, in the alleys of New York at night. I fought like a cornered animal, although I never really hurt
the two policemen. Eventually, they subdued me, and handcuffed me to a pole while
they opened the cell in the back of the police van. In the time it took them to unlock
and open the doors, I was gone. They ran towards the pole, grabbed the opened handcuffs, and saw me running away. I looked back and saw them getting in the van, and
starting the engine. I wasn’t quite worried, though, because no vehicle with slashed
tires could chase after me. I knew that this was only a temporary relief, so I decided to
leave. In a week, I was running in the streets of Los Angeles. My turning point was in
LA. I nearly died on my first day. Compared to the streets of New York, LA was much
more loud and confusing. I met the cops way too many times for my personal comfort.
However, I got used to LA, and spent two years, eternally on the run. When I became
fifteen, I was forced to live for three days with no food, and only water from the new
skyscrapers lobby room. Even though I was living on the streets, I still kept myself
clean, and I still looked like an aristocrat, so no one could tell I was an orphan. It was in
LA that I met Alex, another child on the run. I was a lot like him, except while I was
shrouded in darkness, he had an aura of light. He collected money by playing the piano
at a restaurant, and donated all of his money, except the amount needed to survive, to
the homeless and charity. I never could wrap my head around the fact that a kid who
ran away from his worn-down home and drunken father who beat him regularly could
become so selfless, so kind, so generous. Meanwhile, I, a child much smarter, luckier,
and more capable than him who was born in the bright side of New York, could be so
dark, so unforgiving. I only focused on my survival, while Alex focused on the survival
of others. Although I did regret my selfishness, If I hadn’t been so wary and careful, I
would have been buried alongside Alex. I guess it was the constant loneliness and guilt
that knowing that if I had stayed awake during my shift, while Alex was sleeping, he
wouldn't have had to wake me up, and run at the gang to lure them away that compelled me to carry on Alex’s dream. I became a philanthropist. After five years on the
streets, I returned to my mansion in New York. Of course, I couldn’t just stroll in, and
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have too much shock and excitement. So, I sneaked behind my house, which conveniently
was not torn down because it was left as a monument to my family, and slipped in after
opening it using the key placed behind a potted plant. I locked the door, and shut all the
blinds. Then, I turned on the lights, and looked around. Nothing had changed. I stumbled
into the bathroom, exhausted. I splashed water in my face, and, for the first time in five
years, I really looked at myself. Sure, I saw my reflection in the water puddles, or on glass
windows, but I never really analyzed myself. My face had become all hard and angular, so
when I scowled, my eyes slitted up. I had become more lean and gaunt, but still lithe. I
looked like a coiled snake. No wonder people left me alone on the streets. I washed up, and
slept on a real bed. Days passed, and soon enough, the police came to see why a house that
was empty for five years suddenly had the lights on, and water running. This time, I did
not escape from the handcuffs. However, after I explained my story, they either had to let
me go, or take me to Juvie. They let me go. In my days, life was a lot simpler. Anyway, I
went to the bank, and withdrew a lot of money. And, from then on, I sort of became a
philanthropist. I grew up, went to college, and made my own company (My pride stopped
me from working for others). Now, as a lifetime member of WHO, and platinum member
of many charities, I’m starting to decline. No longer am I the boy who had the courage to
jump out of a building with a needle stuck in my arm. I can no longer watch my friends
getting brutally killed without flinching. I can no longer purposefully hurt anyone, for any
reason. But there is one thing I can never forget: the life on the streets. Even now, my eyesight is still deteriorating, and my joints creak more than usual. My hardened, angular face
has molded into something perhaps better. My cold heart has melted out of its ice cage.
Living on the run can change a person, and showing them the two hidden sides of life:
How each side has its perks and cons. Oh, the world has changed in a myriad of ways, not
all for the better. But maybe this is how we humans must progress: One step backwards,
two steps forwards. But I still see my nightmare of being isolated coming true. With all the
new gadgets coming out, the one world is splitting into tens of thousands of individual
people, each focusing on their own ideas, own items, own lives. I now understand that by
hiding from others, you’re just hiding from yourself. But I can still hope, for a better world.
I can still dream, fight, and live on, in the belief that one day, my childhood world of fantasy, dragons, and magic will come true. For what is fiction but a blueprint for the future
world? But I feel that my time has come. Hold on, Alex. I will join you soon. No longer will
I have to suffer from the company of myself.
Ankur 2014
45
Flowers
Rupsha Chakraborty
Age: 13
I, Ashmita
Amusing, Crazy, Artistic
In My Genes
Ashmita Deb
Age: 13
Daughter of Shelly and Pratik
Lover of Frappacino, Bacon, Fries
Who feels Excited, Amazing
Who needs Money, Travel Tickets
Who fears Spiders, Lizards
Who would like to see Tyler Oakley, Connor Franta
Am a resident of Anaheim Hills, California
Ankur 2014
46
Life
Shinjini Das
Life is sweet,
I have everything a life needs to live,
Life is charming
A family for strength,
Life is warm,
Parents for life,
Life does something for me, that nothing
else does
Siblings for love,
Blessings upon me for an eternity,
Elders for courage,
Life can be harsh,
But lively for sure,
I'm sure life can have everything you wish
Friends for entertainment,
Love for generations,
And of course God for power
Life can be happy,
Life can be sad,
O, Life, Life, Life
Life can have rollercoasters, which no other has
Something everyone needs,
Life is a gift,
Life is a dream,
A life to live, A life so long, A life to lead
A life that is precious forever, a gift from
God
Life is a blessing,
Life has something no other has
I love my
Life
Dedicated: To my family
Ankur 2014
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A Late Hour
Shreya Chattopadhyay
Age: 16
Tick, tock. Tick, tock.
The mouth of the second hand
Eats away at the time.
Outside, the wind is not howling.
It is rumbling, and grumbling, and raging,
And resting, before starting again.
The beige of my room
Is painted with shadows.
Rising and falling with my hand
And with my pen.
The streetlamp is watching,
The cars are creeping by,
The light of their headlights
Chased by darkness and night.
The wind’s anger has slowed
To a huff of disgust
And the clock is still ticking away.
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