A Wedding of Tranquility and Glory
Soumil Rathi 8B
White ribbons entwined around bright pink bouquets. Roses and carnations were skillfully bound into tall sculptures of the bride and groom. The tranquil melodies from the speakers wafted through the aromatic environment and this soothing music, along with the sea air brought calm to every individual’s mind. Musicians played songs of utmost beauty – which mitigated all virtues of stress prevalent.
Positioned near a beach, the azure waves lapped at the shore. Seagulls squawked in the crimson sky above as the sunset on the horizon illuminated the walls and paintings of the couple, which gave a feeling of utmost serenity. It was then when the bride emerged and walked down the aisle in a white silk embroidered dress. She smiled at the groom, who locked eyes with her; their true love unmatched. The ‘Belle of the Ball,’ the bride walked up to where he was standing. A dashing young gentleman; who smiled at her ever so lovingly. The music grew louder while the sky grew brighter with every passing second. Everyone was mesmerized, seeing the two side-by-side. The flower boy came running, letting flowers drift in the seaside air. The lilac petals wafting all about, traces of romance in the air. Behind him, the ring bearer came, with a small black box, containing a jewel most precious.
The bride and groom smiled, looking towards one-another with sparks in their eyes. He opened the box, displaying a diamond-headed ring, with its shanks with entwining silver branches and its hallmark of gold. The bride looked at her future husband and blushed, for she knew she was to spend the rest of her life with the man she loved the most.
The Big Fat Indian Wedding
Rahil Singh 8C
Cut to scene one. I am in a car with my mother and brother, en route to my mother’s best friend’s wedding. It is afternoon and the heat is searing, even the air conditioners don’t make a difference in Jaipur. We drive for about half an hour before we reach the venue.
The venue was a kaleidoscope of colours ranging from pink to red to blue. What struck me, however, was not the kaleidoscopic beauty, but rather a blue stage surrounded by pink flowers. The first thought that leapt into my mind on seeing that was, “This colour combination is terrible.” Later I was informed that the stage was for dancing, but still, it just doesn’t excuse the combination.
Every person has some or the other incentive for coming to a wedding. For some, it’s the food, others dance and for a minority, the melodrama. I, a member of the first category, was then a famished nine year old, who was hungry and dying by the heat. A slave wouldn’t have been happier being given freedom as I was when I noticed a waiter come towards me with a tray of drinks. A Coke and a Pepsi later, I was finally in my element.
The guests were fashionably late and when a congregation of about two hundred to three hundred people had gathered, the ‘baaraat’ arrived. In India, to perform a wedding ceremony without alerting everyone present within a half a kilometre radius of the venue is shameful. Thus, on hearing the beating of the drums, I, in my inexperience, assumed that the groom had arrived. That respected personage, however, arrives half an hour later, with a beating of drums that could put cannons to shame.
I will skip to the most important part. The seven rounds taken by the bride and the bridegroom. After a mind-numbingly long duration of chanting, the priest told the soon-to-be-wed couple to tie the knot (where I know not) and begin taking circles around the sacred fire. The groom was in a white and gold sherwani, a matching turban and red leggings. The bride was more heavily decked in a red, brocade lehenga and a load of jewellery. The rounds were finished, the couple married and I was free to roam around and do what I pleased. This mainly involved eating.
Since the bride was Bengali, about thirty per cent of the luncheon consisted of sweets. Rasgoolas in their sticky syrup, sondesh, ras malai coiled jalebi, you name it. Did I mention I have a sweet tooth? The main course had both veg and non-veg dishes, and to not leave the reader hanging, I’ll give an overview. Butter paneer, Butter chicken, fish curry, different types of dals and mixed vegetables, as well as biryanis. Content after eating to my stomach’s fill, I fell asleep.
I woke to a jolting motion and loud music. No, rather, very loud music. People were dancing on the stage and we were leaving. I don’t say this with regret. Nothing is worse than having to listen to remixes for hours on an end. In the end, however, I must admit that nothing beats a big, fat Indian wedding.
The Dyslexic Artist
Shubhika Datta 8E
Luke ran down the stairs when he realised that the living room was empty. It was his eleventh birthday but no one had showed up. He had spent the last evening decorating his room with streamers and balloons and planning snacks and activities.
He waited patiently for someone to arrive. After all, he had invited 30 kids! After waiting for an hour he finally gave up and started removing the decorations when the doorbell rang. He rushed to the door and opened it to find his grandparents. Sobbing, he hugged them tightly. “Sorry, we forgot to bring the gift and only realised it on our way. But we retrieved it. Here you go!” grandmother said, handing him a bag.
Luke opened the bag quickly to find a set of paint brushes, crayons and much more. Luke was dyslexic and often found it hard to study and read during class which caused him to be bullied all the time. But this did not stop him. He loved art and continued to embrace it. Grandmother and grandfather helped Luke set up his art stand, after reading the instructions. Luke requested his grandparents to sit in their finest poses while he sketched them. Luke picked up his paints and paint brushes and started to paint their beautiful outfits, give them realistic details and he was done! On showing it to his grandparents, they were in awe and encouraged him to send it for a competition. He agreed and immediately signed up for one.
When Luke’s classmates found out about it, they started giving him a tough time, by saying, “You will never win!” or “You are dyslexic, do you really think you could do well?” This demotivated Luke. When the results came out Luke did not check it, since he was sure he would lose. So grandfather checked it for him and he had won! He came first!
Luke realised that others' opinions about him did not matter. Dyslexia did not cause him to be any less smart than others but was just an obstacle, not a curse, that could cause him to never be successful. We should always keep this in mind and follow our dreams just like Luke did.
A Memory So Dear
Ananya Kulkarni 8F
I stared at her face. Her features hadn’t changed since the last time I saw her. Her honey-brown eyes, still exactly the same. Her face held a single memory that I dearly cherished. Ellen. My best friend Ellen had finally returned.
I found myself drifting off to this memory, still remembering it with vivid detail.
A summer’s night it was, then. We were supposed to be fast asleep in our neighbouring chambers, for we had gone camping. Just at the stroke of midnight, I heard a soft knock at my door. I approached the door, letting it creak open. I see her sleepless figure, desperately wanting to go out and explore. She whispers to me, saying that everyone is fast asleep, and the stars are now wide awake. I nod my sleepy head, fingertips reaching for the strings of two lanterns.
I handed one lantern to her, as she dragged me outside by my wrists. She opened the front door of the common room, allowing us to get a glimpse of the beautiful night sky. We walked outside the door, fairly curious to explore now. I had been shaken awake by the night-world’s scenic beauty, both of us running hand-in-hand, through the dark.
There were trees everywhere, each of different height and colour. Some were short and stubby, while others proudly stood tall. The scent of Earth and fresh soil could never be perceived wrongly, as a smile approached both our lips. We found a sturdy bark to sit on, fairly close to the ground. I climbed up first and she followed, taking a seat beside me. We both looked at each other, failing to suppress small, excited giggles. We stared off into the vast navy-blue sky, accompanied by the various stars, and of course, the lone moon shone brightly.
Before we knew it, we found ourselves tracing the constellations. We completely lost track of time, submerged in the gorgeous night sky. I realised that we ought to return back, slipping off the tree’s branch, as she did the same. I remember sleeping really well that night.
I looked at her face once again. Time had indeed treated her well. What was once a young girl, was now a beautiful woman who held the same tender features, except with maturity. I walked up to her and pulled her into a hug, as she returned the fond embrace. “I’ve missed you, Ellen. It’s nice to see you again.”
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