I ASKED THE GODS
By: Malak Hassan Khan, 12 ‘R’
In the heart of ancient Greece, where myths and legends intertwined with the fabric of reality, a mere mortal dared to ask a question that had been whispered in hushed tones but never openly spoken: “How to kill a God?”
“How to kill a God?” I asked Aphrodite, the Goddess of Love. Her laughter
echoed through the heavens as she regarded the audacious mortal. “YOU cannot kill us, you imbecile of a mortal,” she chided, her voice dripping with divine
amusement. “Betraying their love, however, is a major blow to the heart.”
“How to kill a God?” I asked Ares, the God of War, seeking his wisdom. Ares,
clad in his imposing armor and brandishing a fearsome sword, offered a simple yet enigmatic answer. “We don’t,” he declared.
With a quizzical look, I pressed further, “But can war truly kill a god?”
“A war is an answer to many things,” Ares replled, “However, does it kill a god? That I do not know.”
I continued my quest for knowledge, seeking counsel from Hera, the Queen of the Gods.
“How to kill a God?” I asked, Hera’s response carried a sinister edge, “You twist
their love and make it yours, and if they don’t let you, you take away what they hold closest to their heart.”
“How to kill a God?”… I asked Poseidon, the God of the Sea, who spoke of natural forces as the key to challenging divine beings. “A storm, a thunder, a quake in the sea,”
Famished curiosity led me to Dionysus, the God of Wine and Revelry, “How to kill a God?” I asked,
“Now, why would you care about this when you can enjoy the little time you have left with debauchery and wine?” Dionysus pondered.
I, a seeker of knowledge was undeterred and sought wisdom from Athena, the Goddess of Wisdom. “How to kill a God?” I asked, Athena’s response was both
cryptic and profound: “It matters on your wit, for an intelligent foe never loses.”
“How to kill a God?” I asked Demeter, the Goddess of the Harvest, who spoke
with a more subtle approach. “Starve them of their precious harvest,” she advised, emphasizing the importance of manipulating the source of divine sustenance.
“How to kill a God?” I asked, Artemis, the Goddess of the Hunt, who
emphasized the concept of purity. “Deprive them of their purity,” she said, hinting at the vulnerability of gods when their essence is tainted.
“How to kill a God?” I asked Hephaestus, the God of Fire and Craftsmanship,
and he had a fiery suggestion. “Burn their arrogance,” he declared, implying that hubris might be the Achilles’ heel of the divine.
“How to kill a God?” I asked Apollo, the God of Archery and Light, who
advocated for distancing gods from their divine nature. “Distance them from their divine,” he replied, suggesting that isolation could weaken the divine.
“How to kill a God?” I asked Hermes, the God of Dreams and Messengers, and
he provided a chilling response. “Crush their dreams, stop their messages,” he intoned, hinting at the importance of thwarting divine communication.
Finally, I approached Zeus, the King of the Olympian Gods, seeking the ultimate answer.
“How to kill a God?” I asked, With a knowing smile, Zeus responded, “Strike
them down with the lightning of the power of all my Olympians.” However, I am still curious to know if you can kill a God.
That was then and this is now.
The now holds the message of hubris: The answer to it all.
Hubris is the undoing of all living creature.
That is how you kill a God.
THE MUSEUM OF SELF
By: Malak Hassan Khan, 12 ‘R’
“No matter how much time passes, no matter what takes place in the interim, there are some things we can never assign to oblivion, memories we can never rub away.”
~Haruki Murakami
In the museum of madness and delusion, there stood 4 women:
THE ARTIST
Music was her source of joy. Theatre her source of imagination. Painting was a source of serenity and dance an engine of motion.
She knew nothing of despair; and at the same time everything. She knew nothing of beauty, and at the same time saw it everywhere.
She stared incredulously at the ones who remained captives against the beauty of art rather than within it. It was a messiah, it saved her, for she knew not what hell was, nor did she know of heaven’s existence. She created without a care in the world; nothing was to
be determined. She loved art, for she was not known, and art helped her know herself. But yet again, she had no knowledge; she was barely born to it. Is anyone ever born to it?
THE FAILURE CHILD
Her mother was her guide; she was her solace. She sang with her melodious voice, but what pain laced her music, she did not know.
Nor was she aware that she saw the same pain drowning in her father’s eyes whenever she caught a reflection of amber and gold. He knew nothing; they knew more than actions could speak, and words could result. It dawned on her that he had a fear of flaw.
Intricacies amused her father, and his notice of fault was impeccable, they knew much of what flaw was, and were the
masters of it. They looked at her with alien expressions, but were they newfound after all? She did not know. She winced in pain when her father ignored her. Why did he do that? She did not know. Why was her mother silent? Where were her melodies of snow? Why did she sing to her no more? Both her nurturers were victims of the
world, confined to identities they never created, identities they never accepted. Yet somehow they expected the same of her
because that is all they learnt. Today she suffers at the thought of being a failure to her parents, tonight she suffers at the thought of being a failure to herself.
THE DREAMER
The sound of her breath echoing around her is what keeps her sane at night. She knew it’s a bit peculiar, but that’s what keeps her going at times. Especially when she has nightmares again, especially when she dreams again. They say once you wake, all dreams and mares blur into eternity, but It’s not a blur; in fact, all of it is very clear. For she dreams at night what she dreams at day- expectations of helping people she does not know today, making the world a
better place. Sometimes the lack of hope spills it all into darkness,
birthing nightmares; but faith in the magnitude of her cause brings it alive and makes it radiate like the rays of the sun.
THE EMPATH
She cannot tolerate the misery of else the way she tolerates her own.
Today she knows. Yesterday she was not aware, but today she knows. She knows the misery when a child is orphaned, when a
child is lost; she knows the misery when a friend betrays. She knows every single misery, without experiencing it herself. And she did not know them before for she was entrenched in the bliss of ignorance. But today she stands as a sum of every pain she has experienced and witnessed others experience. Today she speaks no more. Words of her heard by others say nothing. She wears clothes as an armour to shield her mind and soul. Today she knows not whether she wants to live or drown in her sorrows. But what she does know is that she would rather choose mortality than hurt an innocent soul.
All 4 women stare at each other incredulously, knowing their differences place them in conflict but also knowing that a link
connects them like the pieces of a puzzle. They look at each other, ‘Oh, so different’; they look in the mirror, ‘Oh so same?’. The mirror shattered, and the shards of glass amalgamate again like the 4
women unite to become the whole they always were.
Today she knows she tries to move ahead for she once desired to live as an artist, an empath, a failure of a daughter and a daughter,
but in the present she often finds himself gazing into the rose fields of her past, and hoping that the thorns don’t draw blood from his heart.
“Some rise by sin and some by virtue fall, some run from brakes of ice and answer none, and some are condemned for a fault alone”
~William Shakespeare
The Unseen Horizon
By: SOUMYA SWASTI
XI ‘C’
At your doors, opportunities knocked,
But out of fear, at them you balked.
You could fly up high in the sky,
Yet in trepidation, you didn’t even try.
Shadowed by tomorrow,
And for yesterday you cry
And amidst the chaos,
You let your ‘today’ die.
Smothering your passion
With angst of disrepute
And the loss of yourself-
to the society you impute.
Pervading your surroundings,
Bright buoyancy rained.
Then why within your heart
Is the dusk yet contained?
Throw the gloom in trash
And with solace you glow.
For dealing with the past,
You just have to let go!
Go deaf to the whispers;
Each desire you enshrine.
For it’s time to ascend,
Every choice redefined.
It’s not circumstances; it’s not your age –
Your mind is your ultimate cage.
Life: My Eternal Suitcase
My life is an eternal suitcase,
Collecting memories at every stage.
Giggles from my infancy,
Mischief from my toddler days.
Dreams that I spun on the ground,
With friends all around.
Teachings from my family and teachers,
That will make me a better person.
My suitcase has more space to fill,
As I journey through the stages of life, climbing my future’s hill.
The more I grow and learn to cope,
The more I will fill my suitcase with happiness,
Memories, love, and hope.
ARYAVEER (Class V)
The Silent Star
Once, there was a garrulous girl named Tulip who loved talking and making everyone laugh. One day, she met a taciturn girl named Lavender. Although Lavender was quiet, she was kind and hardworking. Soon, the two became good friends.
One day, their school announced a castle drama competition. Tulip was chosen to play a dynamic queen, while Lavender played a brave knight. They practised every day. Whenever Lavender found a scene difficult, she persevered and kept trying until she performed it perfectly.
As the competition day came closer, Tulip became pompous. She thought she would surely win because she was confident and acted very well. Lavender, however, stayed humble and focused on her practice.
On the day of the competition, both girls performed wonderfully. The judges were especially impressed by Lavender’s confidence, hard work, and determination. Lavender won the competition. Tulip felt a little disappointed, but she congratulated her friend. Lavender was happy but never became smug. Instead, she thanked everyone who had helped her, including Tulip.
Moral: True friendship is more valuable than winning, and humility makes every victory meaningful.
SHANAYA GOYENKA (Class V)
The Animals
The animals, oh wow, are so wonderful!
The lion, the king of the jungle,
The majestic tiger,
The naughty monkey,
And the cute little birds.
Oh, what wonderful animals they are!
The dancing peacock,
The zebra with its black and white stripes,
The cuckoo, who sings so beautifully,
And the tall giraffe.
Some are carnivores,
Some are herbivores,
And some fly high in the sky.
Oh, what wonderful creatures they are!
The butterflies are sipping nectar,
While the honeybee is buzzing around me.
MRINAL (Class IV)
Be the Reason Someone Smiles
Every day, two children walked to school. On their way, they saw a poor family living by the roadside. The family did not have enough food to eat and often searched for food in dustbins.
At first, no one noticed them. But once the children realised their situation, they told their parents and teachers. Together, they came up with a thoughtful idea.
From the very next day, every student brought one extra fruit, sandwich, or snack. They collected all the food in a “Sharing Basket” and kept it where the poor family lived.
The poor family smiled with joy when they saw the basket. They did not just receive food—they also received kindness, love, and respect.
The class learned that sometimes the greatest act of kindness is helping others in a way that protects their dignity.
Moral: A small act of kindness can bring a big smile to someone’s face.
AMAIRA (Class IV)
