Tuesday, 13 September 2016

The deserted school

The blue clouds rolled and separated letting the sun rays pass through; hit the roof and reflected back. The roof shined silver; the speckles of dust could be seen on the array of golden light.
The school was surrounded by three dozen trees. The bark on the trunk was rough and streamlined. The sticky golden sap from those green-red trees smelt of hot chocolate that filled the atmosphere. The canopies joined together forming a large umbrella shading the school. A jewel blue stream flowed splashing, sloshing and squishing that curved through the school. Occasionally, a family of white duck quacked and paddled on the water. The barren playground was about a hundred feet big that layed untouched. The breeze flew leaves that fall on the ground and dropped it on the other side of the school or on the roof or sometimes brought back to its original place.
The plants withered and coloured brown as it threw its head on the million rotund red pots which stood on the long corridor guarding the school.
The school was small with ten classrooms and one teachers room. There was only silence that followed along with the cold wind or the croaking of the frogs or the squawking of squirrel or the buzzing of the bees. The rough jagged dry wall outside was painted bright coloured yellow and the inside was pale white that seemed blackish as the hand marks of students got permanently fixed.The smooth wooden doors creaked as the wind pushed it open. The coars floor cracked and the microscopic dust particles settled in between them. The cobwebs glowed when the door opened absorbing the light. It covered the black ceilings, the broken door handles, chairs and desk. Two massive beehives hanged from the east side of Sycamore High School.
The school seemed to embrace the loneliness and hence decided to spend an era by giving shelter to the innocent animals and the leaves and the dust.

Sunday, 13 December 2015


Black smoke spiralled high up the mountain. A ghastly silence meandered the valley. It was only the cracking of the fire and the occasional whooshing of the cold wind that disturbed the immutable silence burning the tanks along with the human flesh. The trees caught fire, the scrubs withered, the grass wailed as a body fell upon it and colored to black. Death and only death…
Far up a stark silhouette stood on the ridge against the blue- black sky. As the dawn broke, he descended down the mountain. The first rays of sun fell upon him separating the mist and flashing up his body. He was a general – by the look of his uniform. A Nazi general; probably a SA sent to scan the area and to kill any moving soul. He wore a grey jacket and a brown shirt underneath. A swastika armband was tied to his left arm, his ski-cap faced the front, wearing brown ankle boots he rode on a beautiful white horse.
The place was completely annihilated. First east then w
est and again east his eyes moved in search of anything that moves. But nothing. He couldn't see a thing till a mile or so as he passed through the million blazing tanks.
Death embraces the silence. Little had he known he accepted the death invitation by entering the land? His death was manoeuvring his movements.
A sharp, shiny, silver knife hit him between the two blue eyes. He fell off his horse and screamed and screamed in pain and agony. The horse neighed as his hooves clopped faster on hitting the ground. As he closed his eyes, a tear rolled down his cheek and a question arose on his mind, “What had the war brought him?” He was too young to die; he prayed health and wealth to his family and his two wonderful daughters. The pain finally took over him as his soul transcended beyond Earth.

Like him a billion other soldiers died for their respective countries leaving only their widows to take on the pain. But the real question that remained, was the war worth it? Did brother against brother, a nation against nation bring peace and serenity to the race of humans and humanity itself?

Tuesday, 20 October 2015

Impossible - Just a word.

Walking out of a dark alley, my senses deprived me as I was being pulled into a stagnant era where I found myself to be standing alone and alone and the vast city laid infront of me. I noticed something, the city! I observed my city in a way I never observed before. Millions of car; white and blue and black, stretched out in the road, some parked, some running into oblivion. The buses, the windows; some closed while some open engulfed the warm air. The lights captured by the rotund glass stood in long poles in the middle of street illuminated the whole area, neon lights glowed in the advertisement board making every letter vivid attached to the edifice. The tall colored buildings hold themselves and stood on our soil.

I snapped back into the reality only to be faced by the noise and the rush as I stood starkly for my bus. At the tranquil environment on my study, I wondered how all of these were ever possible. The one to answer my question was the answer to everything that made these possible. Our Brain. The tiny, little, obnoxious looking brain that made our lives so easy to live. Sometimes I want to cut one open and learn what mechanism does it exactly follow that makes us versatile enough to play guitar and sing at the same time or drive and talk at the same time or how the human beings have traveled beyond earth and into the space. Our Brain is so puny but yet so complex that if we start researching on it, it will take all our living years but again we cannot imagine the horde of things we are going to find within it.

Medical sciences have reached an unbelievably outstanding level. A few days back, I was caught awestruck as my mouth went wide open when I saw a 'hand transplant' operation. The operated man could literally move the hands of the giver that was attached to him. "Is that even possible? Don't we have nerves and stuff?" was my ambiguous question to myself.

That was one hell of an eye opening, inspirational operation. I learnt one thing for sure, if we are supposed to do something, like studying - the usual problem with us students, we find it boring or hard to do or if we want to achieve something great - again all students wants the best grades, then there is no point in sitting and sulking up all day thinking it's impossible. If things were impossible, we would be sitting on barren lands right now having fruits instead of pizza, tuberculosis gradually annihilating our species. Life can be ridiculously hard but not impossible. There is no shortcut to hardwork. It's a god's way of saying - work hard and I will prove you that 'impossible' is just another word on your dictionary. :)

Tuesday, 18 August 2015

We - The incredible Homo sapiens

Hello there, I am Achisha Saikia still doing my schooling. This is my first blog and honestly I have no idea what to write. But the idea of 'writing' has always amazed me in every possible way. Language and literature and vast quantity of words merged to form a serene sentence which catches your eye and touches your heart. The other day I was reading a small extraction from a speech by a writer named Shyman Manohar. He spoke about ''Search and Re-search:The challenge we face" He provides a solution to help us be more creative and shape a more forward - looking culture. He speaks about the difference between search and re-search. It provides evidence and proves how literature can solve our country's problem by first searching and not by relying much on technology or religion and then by taking the next move towards re-searching. 

I am actually a science student but certain failures in my life has made me feel that I should seriously start doing something good with my life because honestly you cannot earn your living just by doing nothing and sitting at home and yawning and texting; so I thought 'why not start with a blog? '

It was April 2014 (I forgot the date), we were given study leave for the whole month for my 10th boards. It was a hectic month with a lot of stress as I was strugglong to finish up my courseload. My mom woke me up early in the morning because we decided to go to hanuman mandir (a holy temple exclusively made to pray Lord Hanuman) The prayers did not take much long as there were not many people present at that time of the day. By the time we came out; people started crowding the temple. 
I was putting my slippers on when my eyes fell on a few beggars sitting near the entrance of the temple. There were middle aged men, woman and kids.The beggars had their hands, legs, limbs, fingers and all the other organs perfectly attached to their body (so ofcourse they could totally work to earn their living). I was observing each one of them and they were shouting "Please, give me some money, I haven't eaten since 2 days" and I was like (on my mind) ''Oh yeah? So why don't you go work somewhere? Go feed yourself and your kids." ( the kids seemed pretty active though so obviously they have been eating something) and then my eyes caught a glimpse of the most little, bizarre humanoid I have ever encountered the entire time I have been alive on this planet. He was so so tiny. Sitting near his mother along with his brother and playing with a little toy. His hands were dark; probably because of sitting under the sun every morning, he had little curly hair, torned clothes, his head was so puny it would fit on my palm. I was petrified to see him. I had no idea malnutrition had gone so far. How many seconds had passed when I was staring at him? 5 seconds? 20 seconds? My mom must have noticed the lugubrious look on my face and woke me up from my deep thoughts. I dashed to his mother to give her some money that I had brought with me. She was the only one who was not asking for money. She venerated when I gave her the money. The best thing was - she was smiling and was happy. Her face made me feel good. Whatever happens and no matter how bad a situation you are facing - you just gotta smile, be strong and be thankful for what you have got in life. That was one hell of a lesson I learnt that day .But the kid's condition bothered me to such an extent I could barely think of anything but him. I wished only if I could bring that little kid with me to my home, feed him so much of protein and all the other essential nutrients, give him a bath, make him wear new clothes. I wish... but apparently your wishes don't always come true. 

It has been more than a year but whenever I think about him, I shiver. What are we doing with our life when we have the food, the shelter, the clothes? Wasting it? Taking too much on our plates till our plates have no space and throw a quarter of it because we are full? The children who pick from the dustbin, what type of life are they having? 
So, the incredible homo sapiens really need to pull up the socks and not just think about themselves but also think about others because we are just running towards the end of our civilization and our doomsday.