As I stared out the window into the black abyss, the slightest breeze made its way through the half open door of the window and hit my face.
I started toying around with the idea that I was riding my brother's Harley Davidson motorbike at ear-shattering speeds, the breeze was no longer a breeze but a powerful, hair-ruffling wind. There was no one else on the road apart from me and my purring piece of machinery. The solitary trees growing in the sea's of grase whizzing by, just about slow enough for me to recognize them. The farmers who owned the land around me, toiling in the fields were the only spectators of my care free riding. The cloudless sky was bluer than the blue itself.
Then all of a sudden the scene changed. I was still atop my dream machine and experiencing the sheer thrill and excitement everyone gets everytime they ride a bike. But I was no longer surrounded by farmland, instead I was on a wide open road, lined with enomously large Euculyptus trees. Their unusally white barks looked only like a blur of off-white and green, the green being the shrubbery and undergrowth surviving around these lumbering giants. I could not see the sky as many of the trees arched over the road and formed a canopy under which there was a perpetual cooling shade. A little further away, standing the dead centre of the road stood the most vibrant peacock. Its feathers spread out even without the familiar yet tantalizing smell of rain. The fan formed by its feathers seem as though I was looking at an artist's painting painted with the most astonishing and eye catching shades of green and pink dotted with slightest of yellow.
I knew this was where my journey had to end. I had to go back to reality, to my house, to the open window, to my dark world.
The only thought that still keeps me, and gives me the will to live is that because of my blindness, I won't have to cry no more.....
Nakul Dev, IX - B
This place is usually reserved for those brilliantly worded thesises which only people with a degree parallel to Advanced God can understand. The people who express their views in this column are the ones that go on to be Noble Prize Laureates where as the mortals who read the column sit with a dictionary by their side and still can't decipher what sense the article makes! The only people who understand the articles are the ones' who's articles were not printed in this edition of the newsletter but as they wrote an article means that they will go on to be Noble Prize Laureates.
This article is not one of those.
It has been written by a person not intent on using words with more than 5 syllables. Why did I write this? I could tell you that I had been thinking about the problems the world is facing today but that would be lying.
I wrote this article with the intention of seeing if I could get away with it. The fact that you are reading this means that I have. I am not the first one to write an article like this. I believe it was not so long ago that a very bored scientist wrote an article and published it in a science journal. The scientific world went crazy about the article, praising the scientist till he was blue in the face only to embarrassingly realize that he had been joking all along. His statistics were fake. His inferences were not true. He wrote it because he realized that (like me) nobody actually reads the journal (in this case the newsletter). Not the editor. Not the people who gather all the articles. Not the people who type the articles. Not the people who this newsletter is actually compiled for.
Then again I don't blame them. I discovered that a letter to the editor not so long ago was about why religion need not need to play such a big role in our lives. If the author hadn't taken some time off his hectic schedule to explain the article to me I would still think that he was talking about some 22nd century religious cult whose members are all Harvard graduates.
I would also like to take this time to apologize to the numerous entries that were put down so that my article could be printed. OK I admit, the only reason this article was printed was because of the complete lack of material for the Letter To The Editor so I would greatly appreciate it if someone, somewhere could send in articles to be printed in this column. If not then I suppose you will all get bored reading about my views on what India's foreign policy should be, what devastation would have occurred had I not been born, Whether Ireland will be a major tourist attraction next year and such other important matters.
It seems that my 2 minutes of fame are over. I must go now. Till next time then.
A man without a dictionary.
Rohan Arora XI-A