Hallowed

                        

                                           The heart drenched in old memoirs fluttered,

                                          As i caught a glimpse of the 150 year old

                                           Mansion through the eternal lens of Time.

                                          Perplexed i stood as the giant

                                          Bulldozer approached with a smirk

                                          In its face ;

                                          Gone were the days when animal-

                                         Like laughter reverberated among the

                                        Walls ;And gave a hope to these

                                          Dreamy eyes of mine.

                                      Then , beyond the fenced barrier was a

                                      Truant,trying to evade the strict

                                       Headmaster's roving sight and

                                      Wondering how to assimilate the little joys amidst

                                       The tiresome sessions of 'classroom feeding '

                                     Suddenly the moistened eyes became  a

                                     Witness  to the metamorphosis of our

                                     Hallowed place of learning into a heap

                                     Of debris ,

                                     And  i stood motionless like a nobody.

                                     Lost was the value and  the vision       

                                     That drove us to many a merriment ,

                                      Though somewhere deep down it lives on in anonymity .

                                     Scouring through the dingy lanes of that

                                     Old town i found  no vestige, that spoke

                                     Of the glorious days of the past.

                                    I submitted to Fate,engulfed by darkness all around 

                                   And it all appeared and seemed to fade 

                                   Into oblivion in a jiffy, biding   goodbye ;

                                   A sense of remorse filled my whole being

                                   And the only words uttered  failed to 

                                   Traverse beyond  ' I  wish .................. .'

Rupsha Mukherjee

 English,UG-1 ,Presidency University .    

 

Being one

 When the helpless being within you wants to scream out really loud and release those flood of emotions...those multitudinous complaints...those long lost minutes you wanted to be embraced by him...those hushed whispers you wanted him to hear.....that musical laughter you hear within every sound you pass by...that song you attach or want him to attach to you without really holding out any hand....and suddenly amidst that roar of your dreams,rushes out,a sea of monstrous complexities....which you do not want to look at...but impeccably they fit you like a second skin.....not wanting to leave you,admonishing every ounce of force you use to repel it and cast off it's shroud...but alas!it doesnt....it is unable to escape from your clutches....you don't know why?oh open that window....lift those curtains......they are within you...the implants of your egotistical eruptions,your numberless unproductive attempts at being a little bit more secure...judgmental attrocities stealthily forward marching towards your secret temptations.....
'helpless being'.........
what else when you can't 'help' knowing,fighting...yet...being what you are.........



 Rashmita Roy, Presidency University,
UG-1, English

SIAMESE STRIKERS

 

“...So we grew together
Like to a double cherry, seeming parted,
But yet an union in partition,
Two lovely berries moulded on one stem...”
~William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night's Dream

29^th July 1990: We were born conjoined at the hip, my sister Sandra and me, Sarah at 12:08 am on a rainy Sunday. For six months we were “stuck together”, as our Grandma puts it now.

Nineteen years later: The match was due to start in 40 minutes. As I was re-tying my shoes for the 26^th time as I always do before a match, I found myself wondering what Sandra was doing in the dressing room across the football field. We were both the star strikers for our team…contending for the Golden Boot at 27 league goals apiece and now here we were…at the 2009 League Cup Finals (Under 19- Girls). I always find it easy to close my eyes and see what Sandra is doing, no matter where she is. I could see her now…tying her long black hair into a pony tail and hopping a little on spot- warming up. It was the first time ever we were facing each other in a final and I was scared. I knew my sister could beat me and I wanted her to win. And no prizes for guessing what Sandra’s thoughts were. Sometimes, especially at times like this, I think it’s a bit too much. Occasionally, it would do to be original!

Sandra and I had been playing football since we were six. It was also the one thing we disagreed upon. I swore by Manchester United, she loved Arsenal. We joined different county teams as well, as we both played in the same position- centre forward. Our teams were rivals and bitter ones at that. She signed for Varsity Belles- known as the “Silver Surfers” to all rivals for the team’s silver kit and a lethal attacking force. I joined the MIA Marauders aptly named as we won almost all the major trophies, minus the ones Sandra’s team managed to collect. (MIA of course after Mia Hamm, probably the best female soccer player EVER)

Today’s match was the talk of the town. It was the biggest match of the season. I could hear the tumultuous uproar of the crowds from the dressing room.

As we walked out into to field and warmed up, I kept passing by the spot where Sandra was stretching. I avoided eye contact, but I really wished I could just walk up to her and hug her. I wanted to win desperately and the only person who could wish me luck on that front was Sandra. Then again, I hoped that Sandra won as well. This was the problem with playing against Sandra… she was my life’s blood, she was my other half. I could never, ever win if she was on the other team- because I wouldn’t let her lose.

The teams shook hands, the referee placed the ball, she blew the whistle and the game began.

For the first two minutes, nothing happened; the ball was in the midfield, neither here nor there. Then suddenly, out of nowhere, the Surfers dashed forward and 3 minutes into the game, Sandra scored… a beautiful left footed curler into the top right corner. It was 1-0 to the Surfers. As the game restarted, my captain, and midfielder, Diane told me to move deeper midfield and get the ball. I did. And then I just dribbled for my life. And 5 minutes from the start of the match, the scores were level at 1-all. That’s how it remained in the first half. Both teams had the sense to pass the ball around idly, so the forwards could get geared up for an electric second half.

At half time, as my team walked past the press box, I could here reporters talking about the rivalry between Sandra and me. We were both on 28 goals apiece this season and we were twins. I let them talk. There was no rivalry between us. After playing against each other, we never discussed a match. In fact, we never discussed any of our matches. It was just better that way; there was no scope for jealousy. As I washed my face in the basin in the dressing room, I closed my eyes to see what Sandra was doing. I could see her re-taping her knee and drinking water. She looked impassive, like she always did during the course of her match. Her hair was coming undone, and she retied it impatiently. She loved her long, black hair and even though it came in her way while running, she never chopped it short, like I had. My captain’s voice calling out my name made me open my eyes. I t was time for the second half. I knew what we had to do. Offensive, not defensive, attack and crumble the defence.

The second half began.

 The Surfers’ goalie was amazing and stopped me from scoring thrice in seven minutes. Suddenly, all hell broke lose in front of our goal. In 3 minutes Sandra scored twice. It was 3-1 Surfers. And the Surfers’ goalie kept denying me.

With 12 minutes to go, a miracle happened- A corner kick… the first of the match. My captain took it, a neat cross, aimed at my head… and in it went!!! 3-2! And there was hope.

Time was running out. With 3 minutes to go, it was still 3-2. I had the ball but there were three defenders in front of me. I passed to the striker on my right and ran forward. She was in a better position to pass the ball back to me. As she prepared to pass it back, one of the silver defenders tripped her, right in the penalty area… PENALTY!

I took it. It was 3-3. Just as I netted the ball, the referee blew her whistle. So now it would be extra time.

As is the norm, nothing happened in extra time. We spent 30 minutes on field, while our managers substituted all the defenders for our reserve strikers. The penalty shootout began with my team scoring first. Both Sandra and I were on target. Then, at 4-4, one of the Surfers missed the last penalty. It was my captain, Diane’s turn to shoot. It was like time had slowed down. Every sound in the arena seemed far away and muffled. All I could see was the ball and my captain’s right foot. In slow motion (to me anyway), she kicked the ball, it skidded across the turf and landed at the back of the net, while the goalie made her first mistake of the night by diving left instead of right.

It was over. MIA Marauders had won 5-4 on penalties. But my eyes sought my sister; my sister who had played so well, whose team deserved to win just as much as much as mine did, maybe more. She was standing there at the edge of the field looking down. Before any of my team mates reached me, I ran towards my sister. She looked up before I reached her, but she wasn’t even looking at me, she was looking at-nothing. As I drew closer, she turned right around and left the field, before I could say a word.

I was shattered. She had never acted in such a way before. I was going to run after her, but my team mates surrounded me.

The congratulating pats, the deafening cheer from the stands, the prize distribution- everything somehow passed by in a blur. How could she do this to me? I’m her sister! She’s supposed to be happy for me…I would never do this to HER!

I made the team bus stop in front of the park instead of my house. As I sat on my favourite bench, my head replayed the image of Sandra turning away from me. Suddenly I heard her voice say, “Aren’t you coming home?” I whipped around. She was standing there, that same cold look on her face, the one she reserved for matches. “Why are you here? Why don’t you just run away from me again, like you did after the match today?” She just stared at me for a long time and said, “If you don’t come home, you won’t understand,” and walked away.

I took the long way home, my winner’s medal held in my sweaty hand. Was I rude to Sandra? Was she hurt? How do I care, when she evidently doesn’t? Why am I going home anyway?  As I walked home I wondered if, after 13 years of playing against each other, we were entering the domain of jealousy.

As the front door of my house loomed large in front of me, I had a feeling something was amiss. My parents weren’t the type who played 2009 Club Hits at full volume, no matter how many trophies their daughters won. As I pushed the front door open, I saw that all my school friends and some of my family members were standing around a table, littered by junk food. “SURPRISE!!” they yelled.

My parents were trying to relieve me of my sports kit. Confused, I turned around, “What’s up?” I asked.

 “Oh, just after the match Sandy took off to locate all your friends and we called Grandma and Auntie Lou over to surprise you. Sandy wanted a surprise party for you, see?”

“Sandra? She did this? Where IS she?” I was almost incoherent. I hated myself. Of course that’s why she left like that. I would have done the same thing had her team won. I could vaguely hear my dad say that she was in her room, sleeping, exhausted from the match. I ran to her room and opened her door. She was fast asleep. I crawled into bed beside her and fell asleep as well.




Meghna Sengupta, class 12, Modern High School