Five Stages

Back in fifth grade, when I lived in dreams
with a mind painted in a million themes.
Used to wake up at six
Cry out loud, pretend to be sick.
To the school, I never wished to go
The only wish was to run around and play,
go to bed with no homework to show.
But, with each passing day,
I realised school can be fun,
So much to be learnt, apart from
the laser in my pocket, dragging
my backpack under the scorching sun,
Oh! It was peaceful,
Unless I hit ; a cricket ball,
A girl behind the wall, to realise
hearts break harder than window panes,
To realise how, drop by drop tears rain,
However, this phase too passed as everything does,
Towards several roads, one to take,
The end of high school gifts you some
clay, for the kind of pot you ought to make,
Doctor, engineer, painter, chef all at once
No constant decision, even for a month.
The chaos, home work, marks and pressure, all my daily offerings,
Passed some years wondering
‘’ Wouldn’t it be better if I was born with Wings?

The high school is over, challenges await
With eyes full of dreams, charged spirit I migrate
To an important phase, with a higher pace,
Onto our senior secondary , starting my first day!
The courses are wide and new, my marks screwed
For they never told me, syllabus would be coffee without brew
The spirit is diminished, has started to find its way out
Now, the only thing that brings a smile is the photography scout,
Wait, What? But academics will pay the price,
A chat with the parents cements the same premise
The books are in , the camera is out
I am a student , not a photography scout
The balance is maintained, the universe has not changed
The body is the same, thoughts rearranged.

Out of the school’s gate, no clue about my fate,
tried to recollect my brain, recalling the beauty I
once saw through my lens, the world had so much
to explore, to write, to gain; Unless I knew
they only worried about Ferrari’s, McLaren’s and Benz,
A pen and a paper could’ve been enough
give my pictures a voice, but engineering
seemed to be a wiser choice,
As I stepped into my college gate,
Started my hunt for the exit
gate, G.A.T.E, through the classrooms,
corridors, water coolers and canteen,
Fixed, cantilever, overhanging beams,
Again a laser, Taylor stitching me up,
what is the pressure of boiler steam?
All through these years, I met
a million emotions, and a people few,
To let go all fears, barter of tears,
drinking the stream of knowledge
from the brink of teachers, though
math problems still seemed unknown
and new, I stood on my feet, rigid yet rough
stuffed with languages beyond
words, drawings in the Autodesk cupboards.

And then I took a job in a glass building
A glass building with glass walls, with glass doors, and glass windows
And opaque people
And I was black. All seats were black
I tried talking, but the black in me was too scared to let anyone scratch it away
I whiled away at a computer which prompted me in every step, somehow those telling me what to do were getting tinier, slimmer and so very dead
I tried correcting my mistake. Renamed the file, saved it again. But the machine still said, sorry, you had only 1 attempt left
They said I was free now. A job meant freedom. Nobody realised that Excel cells are smaller and more in number.
Corporate, professionalism, work ethics, presentation, joyless_frustration,
Deadline, schedule, meeting, performance-review, happiness? Curfew
There stood a cabinet, far out in the corner
Nobody touched it, or thought of it, or remembered it
I opened it. Jatin..Devansh…Rohit…Paramjeet….Sapna…Ullaas…An old sticker read “dreams”
Khyati…Peter…Kinjal…Ishan…Me
I opened my file. It was empty. Had I forgotten? Or had they taken it away?

Thinking back now, I recall
No one was there to pick me up when I’d fall
Talking to the teachers, talking to my friends
When he doesn’t have hope, the guy pretends.
All those meetings, all those parties
All those kids who’d ask me for my car keys.
Nothing mattered now even in the slightest
Even to my family I was only a guest
Did it all matter now, should I have done it all?
Looking in retrospect, retracing my past
I look at my soul and half flown mast
Ready to conquer the vast and mighty sea
Civilisation played its part, rebellion is bleak
Looking now at my camera and my grades
I wonder if the device was a bane
Nothing excites me, it all bores me now
The only time I’m happy is when I’m on cocaine
Did I live or did I just exist
Looking the whole of my life in a gist
Was this flesh and blood or was this a host
Did I exist as a man or was i just a ghost?

By the Qrew

Siddhant, Giriraj, Aashita, Pratiksha, Devyani, Rohit, Sparsh and Anmol