Survivors: A Critical Analysis

A very apt analysis of the poem 'Survivors' written by Siegfried Sassoon given by Anaida D'souza:
 
In his poem ‘Survivors’, Siegfried Sassoon gives the readers a satirical and paradoxical take on war and its effect on the soldiers who partake in it. This particular poem was written by Sassoon when he was spending his time in the Craiglockhart hospital where he was forced into convalescence due to his strong portrayal of anti- war emotions. On arriving at the hospital he was diagnosed with neurasthenia and had it not been for the work of his psychologist Dr. Rivers, Sassoon would have paved a tragic path to his self destruction. 

The poem being deliberately contradictory in nature begins by giving the reader a sense of assurance that ‘no doubt they’ll soon get well’ only to be followed by a scathing portrayal of the symptoms of being ‘shell shocked’ wherein the soldiers speak in a disconnected and incoherent manner. In the phrase that follows, he mentions that the soldiers are rather ecstatic about their future return to the war front and he follows it up by giving an exacting and factual take on the situation, wherein these soldiers who were once robust and vigorous men are now learning to walk again implying their predicament and making the readers empathize with them. 

In the consecutive lines, the poet speaks about the soldiers ‘haunted nights and their cowed subjection to the ghosts of friends who died’. This line is highly subjective in nature which holds an underlying reference to the nightmares that plagued Sassoon where he would witness corpses lining the roads in their deceased slumber and summoning him to join in their fate. Visibly shaken after these occurrences, Sassoon often mentioned them in his poems. This also implies the fragile state of mind the soldiers are in, when they come across the ghosts of the friends they lost at war and the guilt of having survived the bloody and gruesome ordeal, which they will carry with themselves to their graves and the cross of existence which bears down on their frames. 

In the second last phrase, Sassoon speaks from a non combatant’s point of view when he says that the soldiers would one day be honored and proud of the war they served in, which only but crushed and shattered their pride. Sassoon ends the poem on a derisive and accusatory note when he says that these fledgling and willing men who headed out to war with a misplaced sense of patriotism now look at us with eyes that are broken and mad, implying an emotionally scarred demeanor. 

This poem is a measured jibe at the non combatants, comprising of politicians and influential personalities in society who glorify the ghastly reality that is war and is an attempt on the poet’s behalf to make known the authentic experience. Riveting and blunt in nature, this poem is one of the finest war poems of all times and has inspired several others to write more graphic renditions of the First World War.

Sky Is The Limit

A truly beautiful poem by Siddhi Shah of grade 11-I :

When you walk a hundred miles, and still see the same old tree,
You think its life’s cruel mocking parody,
Just walk another 100 and you’ll see...
Your destiny’s waiting to set you free-
No road is long, when dreams are big,
And sky is the limit;
When the waves go wild, just tighten your sail,
And you will cross the sea.

MY ANGEL IN SAVING GRACE

As a child I was never a one to be shown affection. I became what I am all on my own. People may think I am snobbish and stone-hearted or even Hitler reincarnated but it does not bother me. After almost a decade of studying and practising Law, I became one of India’s top most lawyers, but at the age of 31 you tend to be alone. I would miss my mother’s home cooked food even if she hated me.

I was returning home one night when I happened to pass an orphanage. Just then it started to drizzle and within few seconds it was a heavy downpour. I saw a young woman around 19 or 20 years of age, sobbing bitterly after she left a small bundle on the topmost stair of the entrance to the orphanage. Later she ran as if fire was hot on her trails.  Curiosity got the better of me and I stopped the car and went towards the small bundle. The scene that came across my eyes at that moment was one that I knew would change my life.

A few seconds later a nun came out and saw me soaked to the bone carrying a small bundle in my arms. She told me to come in and gave me some clothes to change as I was fully drenched. She started talking and asked me what happened. I told her the story of the lady and she sighed. What she said ignited a small spark in me. ”Ah! another child”. There is no place for a new child. I will have to ask Father Astor what to do with the child”.  I made a spur of the moment decision and asked if I could adopt that little bundle.  She said to come in the morning and fill in all the paperwork.  I made my way to the car and made a pit stop to the nearest baby store.  I bought all things necessary for my little bundle with the help of the store manager.  I went home and set up the spare room for my little bundle. 

I went to bed wondering whether I had made a right decision and how this would affect my life.  In the morning, I called up my office and pitched in a sick leave.  Next morning I reached the orphanage around 9 AM.  Nearby, I could hear a baby screaming its lungs out.  I entered the orphanage and saw some nuns surrounded around a baby.  I saw a nun holding my little bundle.  I ran towards her and swept the little bundle in my arms.  The little bundle stopped crying and stared at me with her little brown eyes and twinkling little button nose.  I cooed at her.  The nun from yesterday came and told me she had completed the paper work but needed my details and my little bundle’s new name.  I gave her all my details, which she promptly wrote down and asked for the name.  She gasped and had a tear in her eyes after hearing her name.  “She is my angel in saving Grace”, so her name is “Grace Angela Pereira”.  From that very moment I knew that my life would change forever. 

My 31 years of life would have never prepared me for the sleepless nights and restless days at work.  People at work were surprised, to say the least, that I was smiling. My attitude towards life had changed and I started seeing life from a different perspective. My angel had become the talk of the town.

Her first day of school was very heart wrenching to say the least.  To pick her up from school was something I eagerly awaited.  My bachelor colleagues were laughing at my demeanour.  Around 5 PM, I ran like I had coyote hot on my trail.  Upon reaching my angel’s school, I parked my car and searched for her until I heard a loud ‘Daddy’ followed by a pair of running legs.  I swept her in my arms and showered her with kisses and heard her cute blabbering about her day.  I laughed, for in my 34 years I had not heard such a beautiful thing.  But then again it’s just me being biased.  Then I heard a sweet honey like voice saying that I have a beautiful girl.  I turned and saw the second most beautiful lady in the world.  She introduced herself as Olivia Smith.  From that instant I knew she was to be my soul-mate.  From school recitals to first dates and marrying Via made me a complete man. 

Time flew by and like this it came the day that Joel; my angel’s boyfriend asked her hand in marriage from me and Via.  Via was ecstatic, she cried and with open arms welcomed him in our family.  I left the room and sat on my chair.  Joel was a nice lad and would without a doubt keep my angel safe and happy.  He was an upcoming and a good lawyer but so was my angel.  She took after her father.  I went out and told Joel “just don’t hurt her” and welcomed him to the family.

So at the end of everything it comes down to this day.  Doesn't it?

Walking her down the aisle I saw her transformed from a cute chubby girl to young ambitious beautiful woman.  Each step I took with her reminded me of every moment that we had spent together. Her walk from becoming Miss Periera to Mrs. Walker, her no more being my little angel was heart breaking.  During the father-daughter dance, what she whispered was something very touching but heart breaking and she was whisked away by her husband.  I went to Via and hugged her, unable to control the tears that rolled down my cheeks.  She asked me what my angel had said, I whispered in her ears and she smiled silently.

“I may no more be with you, but in your heart I am still your little angel you brought from that orphanage. You, Adrian Joshua Pereira are my angel in saving Grace and you are my daddy.  I will always love you forever”.

- A short story by Ayesha Salim Khan

            

A heart-rending story

The Rhythm of Death

They rushed him to the hospital but they refused to take him to surgery before receiving the advance fees. Their way of explaining their cold inhumane behaviour was 'hospital policy'.The person writhing on the stretcher seemed to lose the energy to fight. He looked pleadingly into his sons eyes and the son looked pleadingly at the hospital staff. They turned their backs on them and attended to other patients who had the money they needed.

The son set out. He didn't know where to go at that hour to get some money, so his first thought was to go back home to get whatever he had and borrow the rest from his neighbor. He ran towards his home, as running was a better option than getting his car out at this time amidst this traffic.

His mind filled with images and words of his father. From his earliest memories, his father was the only one who was there for him. His father never showed him how hard he worked for the things his son got so easily. His mother passed away during childbirth and since then they only had each other. His father, a worker at a factory, wanted his son to be everything he couldn't be himself. He wanted his son to achieve many things and never have to face the hardships he faced. His son however, had different ambitions than what his father had for him. He was pretty talented at singing and playing the guitar, and he wanted to turn that into a career. He wanted to reveal this to his father only when he was sure his father would see the effort he had put into it.

The first time he told his father about his passion for music and showed him his skills in a song he'd been practising for two days straight, his father had laughed at him. Taken the guitar pick from him and thrown it in the trash. “Creativity won't get you anywhere son" he'd told that day. The son, had picked up the pick from the trash, and wiped it clean with the same sleeve he used to wipe his single tear away. He went back into his room and began practising again, this time with more determination. He played at the talent contest to a standing ovation. And among the crowd, his father stood, clapping his hands along with the crowd, accepting defeat. His heart broke at the thought that his son wouldn't be what he wanted, but he wanted his son to achieve something he himself wanted. He couldn't bear the thought of his son resenting him for not letting him go for his dreams.

The son didn't notice the cars that almost hit him or the people that continually yelled at him to get off the road. He walked fast, tears blurring his eyes, finding their way down his cheek and mingling freely with the sweat running down his brow.

The headlights of a car looked like eyes to him now. Eyes that burned brightly with a sort of vengeance. On impact, he flew above the front of the car and over it, finally falling with a heavy thud behind it. The car went ahead for a little while at slow speed and then stopped. A head came out through the open car door, his eyes unlike the headlights reflected guilt and a sense of fear. He looked at the son for a few seconds, contemplating what his next step should be. He looked around and was satisfied when he saw nobody. He moved his head back in and closed the door, waiting only for a few minutes before driving off, slowly gaining momentum.

Their relatives combined the funerals into one so that they could get it over with fast. Some found it very lucky that they died together; they knew it would be impossible to survive without the other. The son died shortly after the father breathed his last. The hospital staff accepted no blame in the death of the father, and they didn't bother to make an excuse for not calling the son immediately after the father’s death. For nobody even knew what exactly had happened that day.

There were sweet words that were spoken and a few tears were shed. The funeral was not exceptionally beautiful or unforgettable; it was a plain and simple end to a plain and simple life. At the end of it, when everyone left, they were alone again, side by side in the graveyard.

- Mufitha Jasmine

Life as a fairytale... or not

[The following article was published in the Education section of the Gulf News on the 14th of April 2012.]

As a child, I was never the kind to display an infatuation towards fairytale happy endings where the damsel in distress and her prince charming dance off into the sunset. Now as a 16-year-old, my best friend often lures me into conversations that deeply disinterests me, but piques her attention greatly, where we somehow end up discussing Snow White and Sleeping Beauty and Cinderella. On one end, she chatters on animatedly about how she wishes she was a princess or a fairy like Tinkerbell, while on the other end, I scoff and mock her childish enthusiasm for fairytales.

Yet, a few days ago when I was on one of my customary blog surfing modes, I came across a post which juxtaposed two pictures—the first one of Spieling Peter Pan and his Wendy at Disneyland, and another of an excited couple on their wedding day. A sentence below read, I will never get over the fact that Peter and Wendy got married in real life. 

I had previously written off the very idea of fairytales as juvenile and only designed to provide a pseudo comfort to little girls everywhere that’d make them yearn for fanciful weddings and magical, yet tender, moments that are as comforting as a raindrop that spirals its way down the cheek. Though I have no recollection of it (I may have unintentionally blocked out the very memory), I know that I, too, have gone through a phase where I clung on to a thread of hope for a memorable ending to my story, complete with some fairy dust and a prince to boot. 

Writing this has made me ask myself what kind of a fairytale ending I picture myself getting. Although, I'm sure most fairytales entails a handsome gentleman sweeping me off my feet, I don’t believe in that. In fact, I believe against that. I don’t want an intricately woven gown that’ll make me feel like a princess, I don’t want a chariot, I don’t want anything of that nature. Ergo, in terms of taking reality into consideration and everything, I want a few simple things. First of all, I want to live in a place that never ceases to inspire me. I want to be able to look around and not take the things I have in front of me for granted like I probably do every single day right now. Secondly, I want to do something that I'm passionate about regardless of whether or not it ends up being the source of my income in the long run. Above all, I just really want to be a good human being. I don’t mean it in the sense where I vow never to sin or make mistakes, because making mistakes is the only way I can assure myself that I'm learning and growing as a person. It’s righting my wrongs that’ll inevitably decide if I'm a good human being or not. But, we are all writers of our own stories and even if we can’t change the ending, we can always rewrite and revise the in-betweens in order to make the ending worthwhile. 

However, as the biggest skeptic of the classic fairytales, even I couldn’t find it in myself to be cynical about them after I heard the story of Andrew and Hali Ducote. Andrew Ducote was possibly one of the most loved and reputed Peter Pan at Disneyland. Hali Gaskins (now Ducote) often portrayed Wendy and Tinkerbell amongst other beloved Disney characters. The pair had been best friends  for years before they landed their jobs at Disneyland together. Somewhere in between enthralling little kids and teenagers alike with their portrayals of “the boy who wouldn’t grow up” and his lovely Wendy, the two people behind the characters fell in love and got married on June 10^th, 2012. So, really, who says that all fairytales are bogus and won’t come true? Because the way I see it, Peter Pan and Wendy really did turn out fine. 

By Gopika Nair

Welcome to the new academic year 2013-2014!

The school year has just begun and with it comes the promise of many experiences ahead. The 'Our Own Word' is a new addition to our school, established in the year 2012 - 2013. It is still in its learning stage and we hope that this year we can introduce many more student artists than before. The works can be of any form - paintings, pictures, prose or poetry.

Submissions to be sent to ourown.word@gmail.com. 

The rules remain the same. Each entry will be first reviewed and then posted. Students are welcome to comment and like.

Looking forward to making the blog into a platform where students can discuss ideas and display their creativity!

[Mrunmayi Deshmukh]

The Cutting Edge

Earlier this month, a team of 11th grade students from our school participated in the CDLS - Community Development & Leadership Summit, organised by Modern School, New Delhi. This summit brings together students representing more than 20 different schools from across the world to debate important issues as well as learn from each other, effectively establishing a global community of creative leaders.

The following is an essay by one of the participants, Pooja Nambissan [XI - C]

The Cutting Edge

Here’s a little history lesson: Poets and writers often portrayed women as housewives, mere tools of accompaniment for the working male in the 17th and 18th centuries. Shakespeare himself emphasised this in his comedy ‘Taming of the Shrew’. But the character of a woman was elemental in the completion of a picturesque and believable society. That is the case today as well.

But for decades and centuries, women have struggled with the unworthy image of a ‘housewife’. She has tried & tried to break out of this mold, with little success. It was not until the mid-1900s, did man begin to take notice. But how does space travel have anything to do with empowering women?

Perhaps, the story of Valentina Tereshkova would help.

Valentina Tereshkova’s is one of the most inspiring stories of woman empowerment. Brought up by a single mother in economically challenging times, Tereshkova began school only at the age ten. Believe it or not, at the time of her recruitment aboard the Vostok VI, she was not even a trained air pilot. She underwent a gruelling 18 month training as an Air Force pilot. Apart from being an expert amateur parachutist, she had no experience in manoeuvring airborne vehicles of any sort. Admiring fellow cosmonaut Yuri Gagarin was quoted as saying, "It was hard for her to master rocket techniques, study spaceship designs and equipment, but she tackled the job stubbornly and devoted much of her own time to study, poring over books and notes in the evening."

At 12:30 PM on June 16, 1963, Junior Lieutenant Tereshkova became the first woman to be launched into space. She describes her experience as hauntingly beautiful and uneventful. Using her radio transmitter she reported, "I see the horizon. A light blue, a beautiful band. This is the Earth. How beautiful it is!”

Ms. Tereshkova’s flight into space was a landmark in the history of womankind. Valentina’s storynot only revealed the power of sincere hard work and dedication, but also shattered stereotypes & broke barriers for women to venture out into space. 

But not all women had it good like Valentina. The first American woman to take to orbit, Dr. Sally Ride, faced harsh sarcasm merely because she was a woman. Speaking to reporters’ hours before the launch, Sally silently endured various rhetorical questions from the gender biased press: Would spaceflight affect her reproductive organs? Did she plan to have children? Did she cry on the job?

On “The Tonight Show,” Johnny Carson joked that the shuttle flight would be delayed because Dr. Ride had to find a purse to match her shoes. At a NASA news conference, Dr. Ride said: “It’s too bad this is such a big deal. It’s too bad our society isn’t further along.”

29 years later, do you think society has changed? Are women given greater respect in the modern era? This has been the topic of great discussion and debate. Nevertheless, women astronauts, like the late Kalpana Chawla, Eileen Collins – the first female commander of a space shuttle, Anousheh  Ansari- the Space ambassador for USA, have come to be highly respected because of their perseverance and willpower to break the gender barrier.

What’s even more beautiful is that these women went on to become advocates for women in space, icons of equality & living proof that women can do anything that men can, if not better. Dr. Sally Ride’s efforts spurned a company, Sally Ride Science, whose aim was to motivate young girls and women to pursue careers in science, technology, engineering or math.

As a part of its Golden Jubilee Celebration, NASA invited 400 girl scouts from over the country, aspiring to become ‘successful somebodies’ in their life. A board of NASA’s female astronauts, retired or active, spoke about the difficulties they faced during their life. From dealing with being misfits at school because of their passion, to handling cruel criticisms for being a woman, they spoke of how they held their head high through it all.  Quote Eileen Collins: "I was afraid they were going to say, 'You can't do that, you're a girl.” "So I just never told anybody and, in my own plan, I went out and did it."

In my opinion, women have been empowered ever since Ms. Tereshkova’s first flight. These ‘space women’ have played an important role in this. These headstrong women have become role models for millions of little girls around the world, aiming to pursue a higher education, even against the harsh words of the society. These women stand for breaking the gender barriers. If anything these women are the symbols of empowerment in a society filled with bias and prejudice, spreading the message that women really can do it all, and much more.

[A thought-provoking and inspiring piece.]