Read the entries that our team loved!

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<< Cover_fire >>

Doing my part

I was ten when my mother taught me the quintessential art ironing clothes.

Pink coveralls and white coats, towed fresh out of the laundry and draped over the awaiting table. The machine set on pre heat for about three minutes, the dial carefully switched to 'cotton mode'.

Hands are used to flatten out the bigger creases, the finer ones left to the utile appliance.

Start collar down, smaller faster strokes on the top transitioning into larger, slower ones as you reach the broad base near the hem. Turn on the steamer for the adamant crinkles around the sleeve ends.

Then comes the tricky part: Folding. You can always go for the old square maneuver - flip and fold in the sleeves, overlap by bringing the hem to the collar. Or you can simply use hangers.

This year our country is fighting something invisible and each of us have a role to play.

While my mother does her part by working double shifts in the battlegrounds of hospital wards, I do mine by staying home and ironing out her uniform, making sure she gets to work in prim and proper livery every day.

I am twelve years old and this is my part, my patriotism.

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<< Shreya_VA >>

My Patriotism

"What is the concept of patriotism?"
They all shake their heads and ask.
As always, deciphering this word,
For some is a mammoth task.

Unfurling and hoisting the 'tiranga',
On the Independence Day,
Isn't the way of patriotism,
Nor are long crafted speeches to say.

Patriotism lies in standing up to crime,
And helping the weak to say suffice,
To be the voice of the voiceless,
Patriotism means to stand up to injustice.

Singing patriotic songs,
And recalling the sacrifices from afar,
Patriotism doesn't end with only remembering,
The lives lost in the independence war.

Patriotism is knowing that war is vile,
More so, in not digging communal worms,
It's in not baying for blood and inciting hatred,
With rumours on the social platforms.

Wearing the colours of freedom,
Setting the lively traditions in motion,
Taking out rallies and hugging brethren,
For just one day, isn't patriotism's definition.

To me patriotism lies in accepting diversities,
In whatever religion, gender or caste they may fall,
And be ready to make equal opportunities,
To come together and make a country for all.

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<< VrandaPunjabi2 >>

मेरी देशभक्ति

मेरी देशभक्ति सिर्फ मुज तक नहीं,
ये बात मैं भी जानता हूँ .
हर एक देशवासी मायने रकता है
ये बात मैं भी मानती हुँ !

बात करते हो तुम दुश्मनो की,
हम तोह पूरी दुनिया को जुंजाला दे !
बात करते हो तुम धरती की ,
हम तोह पूरा आसमान हिला दे !

इस मिट्टी से सब जुड़े है हम ,
इस मिट्टी मैं मिल जाएगे .
तिरंगे के रंगो से जुड़े है हम,
इन रंगो मैं घुल जाएगे !

जंग के मैदानों मैं भी,
भूमि-माँ ने मुझको संभाला है !
खड़ा उठ और कर देश की रक्षा ,
ऐसा हौसला दिया है !

जवान है हममैं,
जवान है तुममें ,
इस बात को अब तुम मान लो .
छोड़ो अपने ही देश से लड़ाई
अब एकता मैं तुम भी अपना लो !

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<< awesomesoumya27 >>

'देशभक्ति' - क्या है?
आकस्मिक जोश पर अवरोध है,
यह तो एक सोच है।

धूप के थपेड़े, कर्ज़ की फाँसी
मिट्टी की महक, आहों का साथी।
भूमिपुत्र , ये खेतिहर है एक सोच।

सूर्य ने तपाया, झुलसाया तन-मन
यहाँ तक परिवार का जला डाला निवाला, भूक प्यास से मार डाला।
कर्मकार, ये मज़दूर है एक सोच।

प्रेम , ज्ञान का अर्थ सिखाय, मानव को इंसान बनाय
हमे शिखर पर चढ़ाते, खुद पीछे न रह जाएँ।
गुरु, ये उपाध्याय है एक सोच।

बटुए में परिवार, दिल में हिंदुस्तान लेकर जाता है।
न जाने युद्ध के बाद, तिरंगे में क्यों लिपटा आता है।
फौजी, ये वीर सपूत एक सोच है।

अरे, सोच तो हर वो मतदाता है,
अरे, सोच तो हर वो करदाता है,
अरे, सोच तो राष्ट्र का हर सच्चा नागरिक है।

अवरोध तो, भ्रूण बालिका की वो हत्या है।
अवरोध तो, उस बालिका के माता-पिता की दहेज के तले मौत है।
अवरोध तो, वो जातिवाद, अस्पृश्यता है।
अवरोध तो, हमारे मस्तिष्क का अवरोध है।

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<< scyllacharybdis >>

I dressed up as my great grandmother in the first grade.

It was freedom fighter day.

All the boys were dressed up as Gandhi or Bagat Singh and all the girls as Rani Laxshmi Bai with their swords and baby toys.

I stood there in an oversized cotton shirt which amma had folded up like a blouse using safety pins and a big bindi, out of place among my mostly identically costumed classmates.

Everyone had asked me who I was.

I had told them that I was dressed as my great grandmother.

She was a freedom fighter, I had said with a big grin on my face.

I spent the day regaling them of stories of her blowing up trains, going to jail and starving for India's freedom.

The teacher's were convinced this was all first grade Isha's imagination to make her great-grandma sound cool but they entertained it seeing the joy displayed on my face as I ran around class tripping on the dupatta Amma had tied around me like a sari, my bindi askew.

That smile on my face, that open joy, it was a strange pride different from any feeling I had felt in my 7 years of life, it was the first time I felt patriotism.

***

<< Gauri_Sh >>

"My child is selected in the army.", said a man.

"Great, you must be proud of him!", asked his friend.

"Yes, I am very proud of HER.", he replied with a smile."

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<< Sheelpaa >>

Aberrant Shades of Patriotism

The wings, my cowardice wings,
Would ever dare the flight to some sky as enormous as 'patriotism'?
A little too ambivalent,
The willpower of my quills flutters.
I might be atypical of an Indian.

I, a girl in pinafore, ribbons,
eyes resembling a doe, gape at the parade, intimated.
Preferred the sweetness of candy to echoing phonetics.
There was a night, me learning a tale of 'Jhansi'.
I've rewritten the 'Rani of Jhansi' on her chariot 'Badal',
An infant 'Damodar' on her back among the winking stars.
The sword in her hand flares the most in heroism.

I, an utterly common woman from the remotest corner of India,
had once set my foreign sarees ablaze;
'Swadeshi' among hundreds of housewives,
Ingested a sachet of potassium cyanide as 'Pritilata' of 'Pahartali',
Mourned the execution of my youngest sibling 'Khudiram'
Yet as 'Moolmati', the mother
Sacrificed my 'Bismil',
Proudly proffered my younger one as revolutionary too.

I, a wrinkled, gray-haired lady, recollect the stories of Gandhi Buri, captain Laxmi, Sarojini.
Must lure the pliant ones to 'Freedom'.

The 'Patriot' within me is retrogressed.
The 'Patriotism' of mine is vivid,
In the tri-shade of relinquishment, guidance, fecundity.
My lips quiver, eyes water,
For each time the heart croons, 'Vande Mataram'.

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