KavitaChhibber.com proudly showcases articles written by some of our most talented and creative youth. We encourage young minds to add their voice to this section. Please contact Kavita to have your work considered for online publication.

JANUARY 2006 - Featured young writers.

Please click on an article or scroll downwards to read more.

I Wonder Why…

By Gautam Narula

Different people carrying different flags, dividing the human race.

Yet aren’t we all about the same, if we look from outer space?

Different groups, religions, and people, keeping us apart.

But aren’t we all the same, if you look into the heart?

We are all the same, members of one species.

Is the only way to prevent our extinction by signing different treaties?

Warfare seems to follow us, and always makes us fret,

Now even a flower, seems to pose a threat.

Why can’t we all live in harmony, and all live in peace?

Why can’t all of the fighting, just stop and cease?

Must we be inflicted, by other people’s hate?

Must we have to submit, to this horrible cruel fate?

Can we stop this horrible madness?

Can we stop this excruciating sadness?

Perhaps I’m right, perhaps I’m wrong.

But maybe, just maybe, we can be strong.

Make peace, listen to police, let the fighting cease, make weapons decrease, and let is release.

Let us release our anger, in a peaceful way.

Perhaps then they sky, will no longer be gray.

I wonder why there’s warfare, I wonder why we cause others to die.

I wonder why when war comes, we must say good-bye.

Gautam Narula, 12 is a 7th grader at Webb Bridge Middle School, Georgia.

I Am From…

By Nupur Gupta

I am from music,

Dancing away till I can no more,

Blaring Indian music,

Listening to the sound of my sister’s sweet songs.

As it echoes through spacious halls,

I feel the music in me,

Feeling I can dance forever.

I am from a huge trampoline,

Between long, tall grass,

Lying there in the backyard,

Broken by use over the years.

I am from hot Indian spices

And delicious milky sweets,

From fried bread

And the acrid stench of Dad burning something else again.

I am from a huge family of cousins, aunts and uncles,

And aging grandparents whom I haven’t seen in 8 years.

I am from the Hindus and Punjabis,

From religious prayers, dances, and songs,

From sweet-smelling incense

Coming from a crowded bright room,

Filled with pictures and idols of our gods.

I am from prayer and worship,

From polytheism and the belief of rebirth.

I am from flowing Indian dresses,

Traditional jewelry that shines,

From presents painstakingly made on our own,

To pictures hanging on the refrigerator,

Drawn in years passed.

I am from the Festival of Lights,

Hearing stories about our many courageous gods:

Ram, Vishnu, and Shiva.

I am from snakes and mangoes,

From peacocks, tigers, and elephants giving me a ride,

Memories of India from long ago.

I am from never-ending demands to make tea and dinner,

Asked whether I am at work or play.

I am from clean-up-your-room and study-for-math

Words ringing in my ears that seem to never stop.

I am from lost diaries

Where I keep all my thoughts,

Writing my wishes, my sorrows, and my dreams.

I am from undeveloped pictures

Waiting to be put in scrapbooks and albums.

I am from too many videos

Of me when I was younger,

About all of my firsts:

My first steps and words

And many more

Memories that say a lot.

But best of all,

I am from a family that loves me,

Where I will never feel alone or lost.

My two amazing parents and the greatest little sister,

Are the best reflections of where I am from,

Who I was, and who I hope to be.

Nupur is in 8th grade at Webb Bridge Middle school.

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in these columns are solely those of the writers and do not necessarily represent those of the editor/publisher.


                                                                                                                                     All Material © Copyright Kavita Chhibber and respective authors.

Email this article to a friend  E-mail this article