Meant to Fly

I am a free bird,

Don’t cage me.

I’m meant to fly,

Don’t chain me.

In the shackles of expectation,

Don’t make me leave behind

What I truly am.

For I will beat my wings

Against this cage,

I’ll tear them apart

Striving to break free.

I won’t stop trying

For the sky sets no limits,

Expectations will fail to bind me,

As freedom will find me.

I’m a bird

And I’m meant to fly

               In this effort to be free,

Don’t let me die.

Rain.

The air cools down rapidly and the earthly petrichor brings waves of nostalgia. The roads, that have turned into a darker shade of grey, reflect the street lights and headlights and shine all the way. Every time tires cut through the puddles, small splashes make the pedestrians’ shoes soggy.  Curses and screams rally over the roads, muffled under the sound of car horns and the steady pour. The footpath floods with umbrellas and two wheeler drivers line beneath the large trees to stay dry.
After a long wait, months of drought, Pune greets rain.

It isn't raining cats and dogs. It's rather raining butterflies, which makes it even more beautiful. I look at the road, all the vehicles lined up round the crossroads. Their wipers sway continuously and for a long time, I gawk at them, lost. I forget everything else as I gaze at the windscreens. The rain drops fall, gracefully and then race down to the bottom. All of a sudden, I am a little girl again, cheering the drops to victory, guessing which one will reach the bonnet first.
Sitting in my very own paper boat, sailing with my best friend through an angry sea, I laugh. With play swords in our hands, we challenge the other paper boats and race to the shore, very much like the raindrops. As I come out of my ship, all wet, tired and covered in mud, it magically turns back into a paper boat, the shore, into a pavement. The sea that merged into the sky is now just a titchy puddle.

Drenched in the rain, we walk back home and promise each other to come back in a jiffy. I dash home and change into a fresh, dry pair of clothes, collect some food-sandwiches, chocolates and steaming hot onion bhajis and sprint downstairs. She arrives a second later with two cups of hot chocolate and napkins. A silent agreement passes and we walk to our favourite spot, together without a word. We wriggle through a hole in the wall. On the other side, we see our tree. It’s been there ever since we were born. We keep our stuff on a branch that is quiet high, but offers a really comfortable and veiled place to sit. The groove is just right for everything we need. We climb the tree and rest comfortably on the damp branch, enjoying our hot chocolate and sandwiches.
I love the tree. It is our secret place and I remember how proud we were the day we found it. It was ages ago. Now, we’ve grown up.

As my thoughts wander through the nostalgia streets, I don’t realise that I’ve been staring, rather curiously at the windscreens. My friend snaps her fingers, right in front of my face and I’m pulled back, rather unwillingly, to the present. The rain is still pouring and now all I want to do is go down and without a worry in the world, play in the rain. So, that’s what I do.

As the drops splatter over my face, joy rushes through my body. I am cold, very but that just makes me even more zippy. It isn’t rainy season unless it has rained and well, here it is, rain.
The beginning of months of joy, mom’s "Don’t get wet, you’ll catch a cold" and "no pani puri from the hawker round the corner from now.", headlines all about rain and storms, traffic jams and chaos, hoping it rains plenty for the school to give us a holiday, playing football, barefoot in the rain, the joy of the fields and nectar of all, the festival of paper boats, here comes Rain.

Rush or Relief ?

After a week of onerous studying, sleeping for not more than a couple of hours every night...I have to admit I did feel relieved for one full minute after I submitted my last FA 1 paper. But like I said, or rather wrote, only for one minute. Before I start writing about this temporary relief that I felt, let me tell you a bit more about tenth grade exams of a CBSE school.

To begin with, we start our term in April. Granted that it gives us an extra month for completing the syllabus and revision, for us-students, it means a ton of homework and project work for the summer holidays. Then again, it means that we will have our first FA within the first fortnight of June, just when school reopens.
FA stands for Formative Assessment ( I had to check if both the 'ss' of assessment are doubles :P ). We have 4 of these every year. Each FA includes a thirty mark pen-paper test for each subject, an individual project of each subject and a group project for each subject.
Then, we have two SAs. SA stands for Summative Assessment ( I didn’t have to check the 'ss' this time ). SA consists of a ninety mark paper for each subject, apart from English (we have a seventy marks paper and a twenty marks assessment of speaking and listening skills), a practical examination and an ICT exam. Also, we have to make a project on disaster management, art, skill development and work education. We have loads of other stuff during the year as well but I guess that covers the exams.

Coming to my last FA 1 paper, you see there is absolutely no reason to relax after completing all the papers. Instead of making me feel disburdened, the exams freaked me out. As soon as I submitted my last paper, relief flooded my brain but vanished faster than it had come as numbers bursted in my head. I started calculating the number of exams that were to follow, the marks I was most to likely to score and the percentage they would get me.

While I was calculating, I realised that this was my last FA 1 ever. Next year, this time, I’ll be busy with college admissions. I won’t give a test called FA 1 ever again. I wanted to shout "COOOLLL". But I didn’t. The concept of not returning to school next year felt very very odd, highly unlikely, rather impossible and weirdly, funny. I don’t think I’m on terms with it yet. " Last FA 1 ever, I hope you haven’t messed the papers up", I thought to myself and flopped on my bench. Subconsciously, my brain resumed its calculations.

By the time my cerebrum worked out the calculations, the next teacher came in and the little bit of relief that had lingered went away completely. As I opened my textbook, I was all set for the next lesson. As the teacher began reading, I felt my shoulders relaxing. The relief came back and spread through my body. The tension of exams started to fade away. After years of this yearly routine, we have become used to it. I’m sure we’ll not know what to do if we come back home everyday and have no homework to complete, no tests to prepare for and no studies to do. It is something I do enjoy, I admit, very reluctantly though.

Next month and the one after that and the one after that one as well, we’re going to have to give exams. This isn’t going to stop now. The paranoid rush and hours of writing feverishly, pouring everything I’ve ever known on paper, scanning the textbook at the speed of light just before the exam,    doing all sorts of things under the name of  'group studies', the late night calls with absolutely no hesitation because we know no one’s  asleep anyway, wishing one another 'Happy Independence Day' after the last papers is something that I am never going to forget.

Undaunted

It’s eyes were closed. After days of hard work, she had finally broken her egg and hatched. She couldn’t see anything but she felt warm and safe under her mother’s wings. Mother had made this nest for her and her two brothers. She hadn’t seen them yet. In fact, she hadn’t seen the world that she had now become a part of. She couldn’t wait to open her eyes and catch the first glimpse of Earth, her home. She couldn’t wait to see the sky where she would spread out her wings and fly. Eager to see her mother, whose voice she had been listening to inside her egg, excited to fly, she tried to open her eyes. It wasn’t very easy, but she did it.

The first thing she saw was her mother’s wing. Mother had spread her wings over them like a blanket. The quilt of love kept them snug and sound. Her brothers’ eyes were still closed, but as Mother saw her baby’s eyes open, she shifted her wings and looked at her baby tenderly. Her eyes sparkled and she smiled. She named her baby daughter 'Wing'.

As days passed, Wing started moving around in their nest. Slowly, white feathers replaced her pink skin. Wing grew up to be a gorgeous young bird. Every day, she watched her mother take off from their nest in the morning to bring them food and some water. With her white wings glimmering in the sunlight, Mother’s flight radiated freedom. The sky belonged to them. Wing couldn’t wait to fly. She wanted to explore the world. She wanted to see the mountains and the oceans. She wanted to drink water from a flowing river. But "Not yet , Wing", was the only answer she got from Mother when she mentioned flying.

One autumn morning, Mother woke her three little ones early. The sun hadn’t risen yet. Wing and her brothers woke up and looked at Mother quizzically, wondering why she had woken them up so early. Mother smiled, and looked at her little birds who were going to fly today. "It’s time to fly", she told them. Wing felt a rush of excitement. Finally the day had come.

The three little birds stood in a neat line along the edge of the nest. Mother told them about flying. She told them about the sky and the clouds. She told them how the wind helped them sometimes but worked against them on other days. She told them about speed, changing directions and catching prey. After Mother told them about flying, she told them about the dangers of the sky. In the end she, took off, made a circle around their tree and came back. "Ready?", she asked her three little babies who had grown up in no time. They nodded. "Follow me", prompted Mother. She spread her wings and took off for the second time. Two small birds followed her, but one remained in the nest.

As Wing’s brothers and Mother soared in the sky, she looked at them longingly. They called her to join them. "It’s really fun!", her younger brother beamed. But Wing couldn’t get herself to fly. Mother came back to their nest. "Why didn’t you follow us Wing?", she asked her thoughtfully. She didn’t seem angry at her. "I...I was afraid.", Wing replied truthfully. "Why Wing? We’re meant to fly. And for you, more than anyone else, flight has always been fascinating, hasn’t it?" Mother asked.

"Yes, Mother, I’ve always wanted to fly. I couldn’t wait for this day. But now, I’m afraid I’ll fall. And what if I can’t pick myself up again? What if I’m never able to fly?",Wing answered. She was embarrassed. How could she, a bird be afraid to fall? She had wings! But Mother understood her fear.  "Perhaps you’ll want to try again tomorrow?", she asked Wing. "Ok, Mother.", Wing sighed. She didn’t know how her fear would go away in a day. Mother smiled at her and then flew to her brothers who were enjoying their first flight.

As Wing stood alone in the nest, she looked at the sky. The sun was rising. A stretch of gold and red embellished the horizon. Wing wanted to fly. And she understood the reason she was afraid to fall. She was scared that she would never be able to fly if she fell down. She was terrified of never being able to fly. "But this fear, it is not letting me fly anyway.", she thought. Never flying, for her was a risk far greater than falling down was. She wasn’t going to let her fear rule over her. She was a free bird and the sky was hers. She spread her wings and felt the wind brush them. "What if I fall?", she asked herself. "But what if you fly?", a voice inside her head whispered. She was ready.  Ready to fly.

She mustered up her courage and leaped off the nest. She soared high into the sky. Flying was as easy as taking breaths. It came to her naturally. She flew towards the horizon, her white feathers shimmering in the rays of dawn. Mother looked at her with pride and her brothers cheered. Wing was happy. She felt free. That she could ever fall, seemed funny now. Now, she would fly. She sped past mountains and the clouds. She saw the world like she’d never before.

 Ecstatic and enchanted, Wing flew. "What if you fly", whispered the voice again."Then I won’t be afraid. I’ll be undaunted.", she said, and glided along the horizon. 

Why a reader...

As the bell rang, all the students rushed out of their classes, jostling against one another. Stomachs grumbling, they raced to the school canteen. They couldn't wait to share everything that had happened since morning with their friends sitting in the next class, to roam around in the school and pull off a prank or two.

The girls' gossips could be heard all the way to the end of the corridor, but no one listened or cared. Everyone was busy talking, laughing, enjoying their thirty minutes of freedom from the boring lectures they had to attend all day.

The corridor bustled with activity, the classes as quiet as they could be. All the students were outside. But, in one of the classes, sat a girl. She looked outside, a wee bit annoyed with the noise. She shrugged her shoulders and smiled to herself, like this was something that happened everyday. She saw a couple of girls hug their friends, waving and shouting just outside the class. "Yeah, right, the last time you met each other, dinosaurs were alive.", she muttered. Then, for no apparent reason, hit herself on the head. "Don't say that", she told herself.

She took her tiffins from her lunch bag and a giant book from her desk. In just a matter of seconds, the noise would fade out. In no time, she'd not even be here, a place where she was always they odd one out. She would go to a place where she had friends. A place with adventure, love, friendship and magic.

She flipped the pages to the chapter she had been reading a while ago and began to read. She was walking through a beautiful forest. The subtle scent of pines and oak filled the air. The sky was clear, a shade of azure stretched to the horizon. Everything was quiet except for the steady thump of her horse's hooves. He trotted along her and she knew that as long as he was with her, she'd never be alone. She talked to him, told him everything she felt. She told him that she wanted to fly, told him what she would do when the war had ceased. She was grateful to have Aren. His amber crest glinted in the sunlight. He was someone who had accepted her for who she was. He understood her and she understood him. He never kept secrets from her and she didn't either. She smiled as she walked, thinking about what was to come ahead. This could be her last smile. This would be the last time she walked with Aren if she failed.

The sky turned black and suddenly, it became dark, like all the light had been sucked out. She couldn't see anything. "Aren!", she called out. He trotted over to her, though she had no idea how he had the faintest sense of direction. The sound of his hooves calmed her down. She ran her fingers through his mane and tried to feel something, listen to something, anything that would help her find out what had happened. But just then, a voice echoed through the darkness. "I trust you. You won't let me down. I know.", it said. She recognised his voice instantly. Aren nodded his approval. He too knew this voice. It was Mark's. It was full of pain, with no trace of the joy she had heard in it before. She knew he must have gone through a lot of trouble to say this to her. He had sensed her fear and confidence falter. In three simple words, he had given her hope. Mark still did trust her and there was no way she was going to let him down. She would do the right thing, no matter what.
As the darkness slowly merged into light, Aren nudged her shoulders. She sat on his back as he told her to and took a deep breath. "I'm ready." she said, though she didn't know if she was telling this to Aren or herself. She tightened her grip around his neck and he took off, faster than eyes could follow.
As they rode further, the roar of the wind started to fade away, replaced by the chatter of teens.
She looked up from her book. The benches were filling and the corridors became quieter. She closed her book gently and put it back in her desk.

She looked around her class, that was now very noisy. She looked at the girls who were still gossiping in a corner, giving her nasty glances every few seconds. She laughed, much to their astonishment. They just couldn't digest the fact that someone who wasn't a part of their group wasn't working hard to become one. And she found this very amusing. So what if she didn't have friends here? She had her books. She had the very special gift of being a reader. She could go anywhere, any time she wanted. She could be anyone and she didn't have to choose. She had so many friends who'd always be with her. What more would anyone want?
"And that’s why, that's exactly why I love books", she whispered. "That’s why, I'm a reader.", she thought to herself and smiled. :)

Why a writer...

"What do you want to become when you grow up?", they asked. " An astronaut", the little girl replied, without the slightest hint of doubt. The moon and the stars had always amazed her. The working of the universe, its beginning, was an enigma she wanted to solve. 

She would drown herself in books, those of every kind and burrow through the huge pile in no time. Books about stars, books about planets, Grandma's moral stories, books on art and ' 100 things you can make at home' , Sherlock Holmes and Harry Potter, she loved them all. They were her best friends who had taught her a great deal. But, she owed it all to her mum and dad who had taught her to read. Her love for stories had ensued from the bedtime stories her mom used to make up, spontaneously while tucking her in bed. Her love for reading, came from her dad whom she had seen devouring his fat books.

Whenever she read a book, her brain buzzed with ideas. Inventions and Aliens, Time Travel and Artificial Intelligence seemed to have bought a house in her head. And every time they left for a walk or late night dinners with photons and quarks, they always forgot to switch the lights off, making sure that she didn't forget them for a jiffy.

As she grew up, the world bewildered her even more. She realised that every person has a story and she loved to get to know it. The world was a beautiful place but its beauty had gone unnoticed by many. The beauty of the human race and the joy of being together had begun to dwindle. The stars looked further away and her dreams were slipping from her grasp, like sand does from your fingers. The world needed a different point of view. Humans needed to know how beautiful their home was and how much life mattered. And she would do so. There were so many who knew this already. But, she felt that their voices were subdued under the selfishness of others. She couldn't do nothing for this now could she? She was a reader, who had the power of words. She was an astronaut who knew just how magnificent this universe was.

Her dream of reaching the stars stopped slipping away. In fact, like Mr. Time Travel, it seemed to like keeping her determined as well. She promised herself she would make her dream come true. But her dream had become much more than exploring space or enabling the survival of life on moon. Her dream now had become much much less selfish. She wanted to share these experiences with everybody. She wanted them perceive all that they had missed. 

"What do you want to be when you grow up?", they asked again. "An astronaut", she replied. She paused and took a deep breath. " An Astronaut who writes, an Astronaut who is a writer.", she said.

"Why a writer", they asked. " Because I want people to see the world from the stars. I want them to see the world once, from my eyes."