Staring out of my school window

Aayaas sweeping,

Drill master whipping,

Students weeping…

The trees,

The sand,

The band and the breeze.

 

As I was staring through my school window…

Staring out of my school window by kkrovvidi

Rainbow Dreams

A drop rolls down despite futile efforts,
to keep it cuffed at root.
Feelings long tucked beyond the curtain,
cannot be curtailed further.
The beaver’s dam bursts!!
Memories rush past, as beautiful trees would,
from the window of a train which knows only to rush.
Of that place,
the ‘only’ place, of ‘only’ or otherwise,
the place in the heart,
where the best of my memories reside!

Where I was I, not he who is not I.
The home away from home.
The getaway from all nuances, pretences,
chores and what not ..
Where I was never alone, moments happy and sad.
Where I could be alone in crowd and get comfort unasked.
Where there was more, always more, never less.
The school away from school,
where the best of my memories reside!

The one place, I enjoyed being ridiculed.
The one place where, weird sounds
arose from my flexing muscles!
The one place where obscure words by ‘laale’,
would not have become signs of insanity.
Where I could be as immature as I could be,
as free as a I could be!
Where C2S was floating in the air,
but never materialised as perceived.
But it did in ways that will never be known!
Where the lizards back was stuck to the floor,
yet it was not the one in the legend of the Chatrapati.
The theatre away from theatre,
where theatrical, was a term apt more than any!
Where dreamers dreamt of dreams.
Where confused souls were not losers.
The book that never could be a book.
My haven! My heaven!
Where the best of my memories reside!

Where a great artist of the words would weave magic,
sketching ever lasting impressions in the minds!
Where I could ‘shear’ ‘terror’ the people to the brink of
laughter and irritation.
Where music came to life, adding more.
Where there was more, always more, never less.
Where none belonged to the comfortable floc,
nor was it ever prefered.
Where size mattered not, in the truest of sense!
For both the short and the fat one
competed for the largest heart!
All was tolerated except the pat on the head.
Where the spirit was born.
Where to be game for all was just a norm.
My haven! My heaven!
The place where the instruments still lie,
melodies resound.
The place where the ‘STAG’ still rushes.
The place where tears were wiped, for the Lord betrayed.
The place where we never worked.
The only place we worked!
Where the best of my memories reside!

Where tolerance grew despite diffusion.
Where a soul was lost in a ‘Lost World’.
Where meaning was not lost, for that mystic word ‘education’
Where it was only dormant, to explode ..
Explode will it?
That question remains ..
The place of the lazy buggers.
That disgusting ward of the ‘Analysis-Paralysis’ patients.
Where bots were hatched, so were thoughts.
Rebellious tourneys conceived, to be doomed, and
again to rise, like the lore of phoenix.
The place of unending ‘concepts’,
which lead two to octa and beyond!
The place where horrendous lyrical crimes were committed,
which repulsed, yet brought that teeny tiny smile,
that makes all worth!
The only place where being slow was rewarded,
for the short one and I, always had the larger share!
Where money was put in the right place.
Where spirits were always high.
My haven! My heaven!
Where I could sleep peacefully, despite approaching storms.
Where the canvas was always filled with colours galore.
for the rolls never stopped rolling.
Where the fat one wandered occasionally, that perfect diplomat,
only to be gone with two flashes on either side!
Where the highly respected MBCom bugged the rest,
for without him much was lost.
The spirit of a hacker was sown, with his share of doubt,
For brilliance he has, only the jungle needed.
The lost soul still wanders,
searching for that irresistible pasture
The place was a kitchen, a dungeon.
Where hacks were hatched and adventure played!
The hanging buddy,
who received a scream from scare!
The abode of the ‘God’ of flukers,
who never used his powers in what he felt mattered.
The punch packed welcome, given for the punch of it!
The game-house of umpteen weird games.
Where ridiculous could be an under statement ..
for there lived for the moment.
Where farting could remain a subject of recital.
Reason was not demanded,
which meant deeper meanings were not lost to reasons.
Where the park would always remain more than a place to park.
Where ordinary walks would sometimes become illuminating journeys.
The place of inexhaustible energy.
The place of inevitable questions.
The place of limitless love.
Where the ‘lafoot’ was defined.
Where the ‘engineers’ took flight.
My haven! My heaven!
Where the best of my memories reside!

The people, the places,
the events, the emotions,
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