"A Sigh of Relief" by Ciri Kovida

 

A Sigh of Relief

One September night, my younger brother and I were home alone when my parents were out of town which gave us a reason to pull an all-nighter watching movies. So, we started preparing for a movie marathon and ordered a pizza with extra cheese. We picked movies of the thriller, crime, horror and mystery genres.

We started watching the first movie while waiting for the pizza. The volume was on 80, the ambiance was dark and so was the movie. We were so indulged in the movie that we didn’t realize an actual killer broke into our apartment complex and started shedding the blood of the residents. The whole place was filled with cries of fear while we were clueless.

Suddenly I received a phone call from my friend and paused the movie for a while to talk to her; that’s when I heard the loud screams of the residents. I opened the door and peaked at second floor through the stairway railing.

I saw a person holding a knife, blood dripping from its edge. He was covered from head to toe in black clothes and a black skull cap. He started heading up to third floor leaving blood stained footprints behind.

We lived on the third floor.

I was uptight and filled with apprehension. I rushed back to my apartment and closed the main door, asked my younger brother, who was still unaware of the situation outside, to lock himself in the bathroom while I went to hide myself in my room. I took my phone and called the police and stammered anxiously about the killer. Not a second later, I heard a huge thud on the front door which gave me chills.

After a while, I heard the killer break open the door. We had switched the lights off before playing the movie, so the house was dark, with the mystery movie running in the background as the killer entered.

He placed his bloodied knife on the dining table and started approaching the bathroom where my younger brother was hiding. Fearing for his safety, I mustered up the courage to come out of my room, and noiselessly grabbed a spoon from the dining table and tossed it towards the kitchen to distract the killer. He stopped walking and I took the chance to take the knife that he left on the table and rush back to my room and lock the door.

Covered in sweat and frightened, I followed my instincts and hid the knife in one of the shoe boxes in my cupboard. The killer started hitting the door to enter my room, and that’s when the sound of the police siren was heard and the banging on the door stopped. I still didn’t open the door. Instead, I switched on the lights and started searching for the knife I hid in the shoe box. I rummaged through all the shoe boxes but I still couldn’t find it.

I was too late. Someone opened my door.



Then I heard my mom scolding me about making a mess.

I was in a state of confusion for few seconds and then I realized that my mom had opened the door.

Reality hit me hard, when I realized that it was all a dream. I breathed a sigh of relief, sat on my bed and started pondering on how a dream could be so real that I actually started scattering my shoe boxes, searching for the knife without knowing that I was already awake. Though it was a dream, I experienced the fear of losing my loved ones and trust me when I say that that feeling is the worst.

I wiped the sweat off my face and started cleaning my room with my mom nagging me in the background. I laughed at the fact that my dream was so unrealistic that no one on the first and second floors thought of calling the police, but then again, our dreams are meant to make us the protagonists.

My dreams have always been incredibly vivid. And the fun fact is that this dream occurred when I took a 20 minute nap!

                                                                                                                          - Ciri Kovida (BA)

"I Wonder What We Find in an Empty Classroom!" by Hiranmayee

 

I Wonder What We Find in an Empty Classroom!

School and college experiences become more fun and exciting only when the classroom is filled with a crowd.

The first time we enter an empty classroom, a whole lot of confusion, anxiety, excitement and enthusiasm occupy the chairs.


It begins when we start speaking as strangers. Then, start knowing each other. The relationship starts blooming, we first become classmates then friends. We start sharing and caring. We then start bothering each other. We play, prank, learn and live.

The classroom, on the entry of our friendship, wipes the older emotions we felt. 

Friendship occupies not only our seats but also our teachers' hearts. Between our teachers and us is the most precious relationship that we often forget to notice. They teach. They scold. They shout. They laugh, have fun and support and share. They hold thousands of hands and yet stand still and strong.

"Did I ever thank them?"

That still stands a question that I would never like to answer. I would never like to let go.


Days pass, months flee; the years spent together are never forgotten. We never knew we were hiding a treasure which could never be stolen. We seldom realized we were making memories that would be hidden forever inside the classroom.

And when we look back, years later, "I wonder what we find in an empty classroom!"

                                                                                                                      - Hiranmayee (BA)

"Life-Line" A poem by Aishwarya

Life-Line

Life is not a line, long and straight,

It is a segment, cut short.

It is a two-page book of birth and death

Where experiences are written with many a letter,

Emotions are painted with many a colour,

Passing clouds are reds and blues —

Where blues are downpours in floods

And reds are rains in the desert sands.

                                         -    Aishwarya (BA)

"Don't Bother" by Tahreen Fatima

Don't Bother

You think I'm stupid because I can't converse with people I've just met

But, I've never wanted to be one in any kind of gathering.

Yes, I'm awkward even around my cousins.

I grew up as the oldest girl in my family, who didn't have any friends in the neighbourhood.

As I advanced into teenage and neared adulthood, I was forced to mingle with people and spark conversations with guests I met once in many years.

I was forced, not just because I needed to have good social manners rather than just keeping to myself (which, by the way, is considered rude),

I was forced because otherwise people would give a negative tag to my personality. 

Keeping to myself and not getting involved in family fun, is considered a poisonous thought.

I've learnt that people will call you timid and sometimes, emotionless, if you stay aloof.

Sometimes, I do mingle with my close family and friends,

Only after convincing myself that it's okay to be different.

But it's not me who needs convincing, it's the people who try to change me.

I've learnt the hard way that every person perceives things differently.

When I've allowed myself to accept people's personalities as they are, can't they accept the mere fact that I am different from them?



They are cool with being the center of attention.

I am not.

They're okay with playing any kind of game with anyone.

I am not.

They're bold when they speak their mind, even if they're wrong.

Whereas, I can't even speak my mind without getting judged for thinking differently, or knowing more than other people do.

They have many friends.

And I'm called awkward and stupid for having few friends.

Let me tell you,

The few I have are truer than the ones you talk to.

Yet, people are always trying to change me.



I don't like being too friendly with anyone.

Don't push me to do that.

I have a dark, different sense of humour.

Don't try to pull me to the other side.

I'm awkward around people I've known since birth.

Don't ask me for reasons.

I do sit around and play along with people I know well.

Just don't tell me to talk more.

You do know that I'm always aloof and silent.



You may also think I'm emotionless.

But what you don't know is,

My heart is filled with all kinds of emotions, threatening to burst out.

I keep my thoughts to myself, because I'm afraid of the fact that people will judge me for being different.

My mind is way more talkative than your mouth.

I'm happy in solitude and I like talking to myself.



But now, it's not my turn to understand.

It is yours to accept me for who I am and not try to mould me into what you want.

Because you can strike only when the iron is hot.

I'm a complete, shining sword.

I'm an introvert, not awkward.

So, don't bother changing me!

                                                                                                                 - Tahreen Fatima (BSc BtCFs)