FOREWORD

T
he Albert Barrow Memorial All – India Inter - School Creative Writing Competition
held every year by the Council for the Indian School Certificate Examinations, is
testimony of its efforts to foster creativity, independent thinking and communicative
ability among the students of the schools affiliated to the Council. The competition becomes
the touchstone of the Council’s goals and efforts. We wish to create articulate, thinking
individuals who are not merely bound by bookish knowledge, but are able to process the
world that they find themselves in and develop their own values and attitudes.
It was with this aim in mind that the theme of this year’s competition was ‘Democracy’. The
contributions of students from classes XI and XII in category 1 and classes X and below in
category 2 reflect their maturity levels. Not only are today’s students alert and aware, but
they are also able to voice their opinions with great clarity. Schools should take part in these
competitions in greater number as in addition to giving their students much needed
exposure, they are showcasing the talents being nurtured in the schools.
The range and variety of interpretation of the topics and the felicity of style revealed
through the writings of the students have left the judges quite impressed. In some cases, the
compositions show rare sensitivity to the burning topical issues. It was very difficult for the
judges to come to a decision about the best writing.
I would like to express my gratitude to the Heads of Schools for encouraging their students
to participate in this competition, as well as the teachers who motivated and trained them. I
wish to commend all the participants for their effort and their clarity of thought. I take this
opportunity to put on record my appreciation of the hard work put in by the team in the
Council office in making this edition of the volume of essays of the Albert Barrow Memorial
All - India Inter - School Creative Writing Competition 2019, possible.

(Gerry Arathoon)
Chief Executive & Secretary

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 CONTENTS
CATEGORY - 1 CATEGORY - 2
Vaishnavi Prasad Siya Elizabeth Jacob
Class XII
1st Class X
St. Xavier’s School
04 Vidyashilp Academy
04 26
Bokaro, Jharkhand Bengaluru, Karnataka

Meera Mothilal Akshansh Kumar

nd
Class XII 2 Class IX
06 Hari Sri Vidya Nidhi School
28 Hill Top School
Thrissur, Kerala Jamshedpur, Jharkhand

Arkajyoti Banerjee rd Mayukhi Khan

Class XII
3 Class X
Garden High School
08 Calcutta Girls’ High School
30
Kolkata, West Bengal Kolkata, West Bengal

Vrinda Sharma Harini Vijayakumar

Class XII
4th Class X
10 Hiranandani Foundation School
32 The Bishop’s Co-Ed. School
Powai, Mumbai, Maharashtra Undri, Pune, Maharashtra

Siya Manoj Gupta Juzer Malbari

Class XI
5th Class X
Smt. Sulochanadevi Singhania School
12 Christ Church School
34
Thane, Maharashtra Mumbai, Maharashtra

Sanjana Shetty Ananya Mukerji

Class XII
6th Class X
14 Podar International School
36 Dhirubhai Ambani International School
Nerul, Mumbai, Maharashtra Mumbai, Maharashtra

Arunima Sengupta th Avanie Joshi

Class XII
7 Class X
Modern High School For Girls
16 St. Mary’s Convent College
38
Kolkata, West Bengal Nainital, Uttarakhand

Ananya Katyal th Arnav Mishra

Class XI
8 Class X
18 The Bishop’s Co-Ed. School
40 Don Bosco Academy
Kalyaninagar, Pune, Maharashtra Patna, Bihar

Anuj Khare Rishi Tiwari

Class XII
9th Class X
Cathedral & John Connon School
20 St. George’s College
42
Mumbai, Maharashtra Mussoorie, Uttarakhand

Veena Venugopal Shane Rebelo

Class XI
10th Class X
22 G. D. Birla Centre For Education
44 Wisdom World School
Kolkata, West Bengal Wakad, Pune, Maharashtra
CATEGORY 1

"An educated, enlightened and

informed population is one of
the surest ways of promoting
the health of a democracy."
-Nelson Mandela
 CATEGORY - 1

St. Xavier’s School, Bokaro

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Vaishnavi Prasad St. Xavier’s School, Bokaro steel city was established by
the Society of Jesus in 1966 at the invitation of the Bokaro
Class XII steel plant. The School envisions the holistic growth of the
St. Xavier’s School students to become persons of Competence, Consciousness,
Compassion and Commitment. It revamps its students into
Bokaro
people, courageous enough to make mistakes and ingrains in
Jharkhand them the humility to learn from these mistakes. The School
accentuates on the idea, “In order for the pupils to liberate the
energy of their strength, their weakness must have a chance to
reveal itself”.

I HAVE THE POWER - I CAN VOTE

G
enerally a mother who gives birth to a new us. The cruel gods delight in withholding some of
life is considered an incarnation of the their favours. So my parents, traditional
Almighty and when the birth actually conformists, got a beautiful baby with some
takes place, there is celebration all around. imperfections.
However, this was not the same in my case. A pall
Of course they dealt with the problem in their own
of gloom descended upon my family. My
way. After contemplation and analysis, it was
grandmother wept as if my mother had given birth
decided that my parents had borne a daughter and
to a still born child. My mother, instead of being
the school they admitted me to, remained
congratulated and pampered, was cursed. The
completely clueless about my grievous
world regretted my existence from the moment I
imperfections. I grew up as the most captivating
was born. No, I was not a physically challenged
and accomplished girl of St. Mary’s School. It was
person, who might have given a family sleepless
in eighth grade that our teacher for Political
nights. From what I can make out from my baby
Science, Mrs. Munroe, read these lines from our
pictures, I was outright beautiful and flawless. I
Civics text book:
had ten fingers and ten toes. What then was wrong
you might ask? This universe does not have the ‘Any person who is more than eighteen years of
habit of showering all the blessings that we seek on age will be allowed to vote without any

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 CATEGORY - 1

discrimination on the basis of caste, creed, sex or outraged and as I picked myself up to leave, I felt a
religion, according to the Universal Adult hand over my mouth. Before I could react, I was
Franchise.’ A smile escaped my lips. I lived in a stripped, kicked and thrown into the bushes.
democracy, and my country would acknowledge
I do not remember what happened next. When I
me as I am. I could hardly wait to be eighteen.
gained consciousness, I felt violated, humiliated
The year I turned eighteen was also the year for and outraged. We feel so relieved when we wake
fresh elections to the Lok Sabha. I got my name up from a nightmare. But it seemed as though I
registered through the online portal and on the had woken up into one. I realized that in a few
specified date, I joined the queue to cast my vote. minutes, the world had drained me of all that I
After an hour and a half, my turn came. The officer had.
asked me, “What is your name Madam?”
Suddenly all those seminars and talk shows that
“Vishwa Mishra,” I replied. were meant to espouse and motivate our kind, felt
hollow and meaningless. All the speeches that I
“What is your father’s name?”
had heard and which had buoyed me up during
“Chandan Mishra.” my moments of confusion and struggles with my
identity seemed fake. The idea of a democracy with
The man gave me a paper with the details printed its high sounding ideals, its promise of equality
on it. Its top right hand corner stated: Sex- F and a voice for all, the words, ‘rights’ and ‘powers’
There was another man guarding the electronic lost relevance. Suddenly, this life felt pointless.
voting machine. I approached him and said, “Sir, I Was it really my fault? Does a transgender not
am not a female.” Instantly the man’s head jerked have a right to live, to decide who is going to
up and he began staring at me. After a moment of represent him and his concerns? Weren’t we
astonished silence, he said,” Sorry Sir, You look so supposed to be the biggest democracy in the
much like a lady.” world? I had really thought I had the power- the
Without further interrogation, he struck off the ‘F’ power of the ballot. I had felt that my vote counted.
and wrote an ‘M’ in its place. Was I wrong?

I again stopped him. “Sir, please tick the ‘Others’

box. I am a transgender.
In the blink of an eye, the attitude of the man
changed. He rose up and began shouting. “Who let
you in? What are you doing here? Just get out.”
Abased and humiliated more than I had ever been,
I cried out, “According to the Universal Adult
Franchise, all the citizens of this democracy are
permitted to vote without any discrimination, if
they are at least eighteen years old. I have the
power to vote!”
But not a single officer present, the protectors and
upholders of the law and the Constitution, came to
my rescue. I was pushed out of the room through
the rear door to jeers and sniggering among all the
people present. The doors were slammed shut. An
inexpressible anger held me in its grip and I cursed
long and loud. After all, supposedly, that is the
only power that we possess. I felt defeated and

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 CATEGORY - 1

Hari Sri Vidya Nidhi School, Thrissur

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Meera Mothilal Hari Sri Vidya Nidhi School in Thrissur, Kerala was founded in
1978 by Mrs. Nalini Chandran. Her vision for a school
Class XII committed to the values of mutual respect, honesty, self-
Hari Sri Vidya Nidhi School discipline and sportsmanship in academics and co-curricular
activities earned her the prestigious Derozio Award for Teacher
Thrissur
of the Year in 2004. For nearly four decades, the school has
Kerala been dedicated to nurturing the intellectual and personal
potential of students and teachers alike. The school motto, “Let
the Peal of Harmony be the Appeal of all Religions,” resonates
in the heart of all Hari Sriites.

I HAVE THE POWER - I CAN VOTE

T
here are five of us. We look almost entirely individual way so there is no clear favourite for the
alike but we could not be more different top post. That’s what the others think. I think
from each other. We are each unique in our differently and I will tell you why in a while.
own way, and despite our differences, we make a
great team. We squabble - yes. Sometimes we do Thumb has always been the distant, reserved one.
not cooperate with each other; but I suppose all He looks the most different as well. He is the
siblings fight and quarrel. And yet, when we come shortest of us and arguably, the podgiest. He has
together, I feel that we have the power to hold the an inflated air of importance and can go on and on
whole world by ourselves. We have the power to for hours about how he is the reason that
achieve anything that we want. We have the power humankind has progressed so much. He likes to
to form alliances, break bonds, to save people and make his presence felt just by raising himself. We
to hurt. We have the power to effect change. have to admit that he is the reason that we can
hold on to anything and he never lets us forget
Somewhere along the line, I feel that a bit of this!
one-upmanship has crept into our dealings with
one another. Each of us thinks that he is the best Ring, on the other hand, is quieter. She is more
and so must be accepted as the official leader of the strategic and calculating and quite obsessed about
pack - the alpha. We are accomplished in our own her appearance. She tends to look down on the rest

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 CATEGORY - 1

of us as she is of prime importance at weddings people are what make the world what it is. I am a
and helps to form a stable social unit. She is not natural leader, but I am also so much more.
fickle minded. In fact she is quite rigid and hard to
move, both physically and mentally. Remember? I had told you earlier that I am
different from the rest. Well let me prove it to you
If Ring is the Queen, Middle is undoubtedly the now. I have a special power, a power denied to the
King. He towers above us, arrogant, bossy and rest of my siblings. A power that can be equated
commanding. We are all supposed to do his with that of the Superheroes. After all, what do
bidding as he commands us, from his Olympian Superheroes do? They bring about change in the
height. He loves to remind us that he is the most world. I too, possess this power. I can bring
structurally developed and that he will always be change, weed out all that is old and corrupt. I make
the foremost among us. All this would have been and break Kings. I can see the smile tugging at the
tolerable if he had been nicer, but this is not the corner of your lips. ‘Megalomaniac’ you must be
case. We jump to his bidding as he barks out labelling me. Now let me tell you about my power.
commands. Personally, I find him the hardest to I am the finger that presses the button on the EVM.
work with especially when he is at his tyrannical I choose the leader who will lead the country into
best. the next millennium or hurtle the people into the
abyss of chaos and confusion. I decide who wins
In stark contrast to Middle, there is Pinkie, or as we
and who loses, who leads and who follows. My
like to call her, Little. She is the tiniest, a meek,
power is therefore, supreme.
insecure, little thing. She is great at making friends
and you will often find her intertwined with The mark that is inked on me every few years is a
another of her kind. That’s friendship, she says, badge that I wear with pride, albeit for a small
and we don’t disagree with her. If you ask me, I period. It shows that in an uncaring, indifferent,
feel she lacks a spine. She bends easily, and has no callous world, I care. I care what will happen to my
wish to be a leader. She’s just there - a true Type C country now and in the next five years. I care
personality, a carpet to be walked on. whether my country will go to war or opt for
peace. I care whether there will be all round
That leaves me, Index. I am relatively easy to work
progress or the continuation of drought, disease,
with and I am the easy going one but all I do is
farmer suicides and scams. I was, am and will be,
point out what I feel is wrong. The others find me a
the power to choose. I represent the power to vote.
little too accusatory, but all I do is point out what I
So though all my siblings are equal and work
feel is wrong. I like to teach others the ways of the
together, I stand a little taller, knowing I have the
world, and lead the way to what is right. To me,
power- I can vote.

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 CATEGORY - 1

Garden High School, Kolkata

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Arkajyoti Banerjee Established in 2000 by the Satikanta Guha Foundation, Garden

High School is an English-medium coeducational school
Class XII
affiliated to the Council for the Indian School Certificate
Garden High School Examinations (CISCE), New Delhi.
Kolkata The School aims to prepare its pupils for the future so that they
West Bengal will one day be able to pursue a career of their choice. Here,
pursuit of academic excellence is ideally balanced with
Co/Extra-Curricular activities for an overall physical, mental
and emotional growth of a pupil. The School engages
traditional classroom Chalk and Board methods along with
modern ICT methods for imparting knowledge to pupils.

THE COURAGE TO DO WHAT WE KNOW IS

MORALLY CORRECT IS TRUE DEMOCRACY

T
here was a lot of commotion in the jungle The animals had gathered under the banyan tree
after the sun had set. The rabbits were for a very important reason. It was the first time
sitting around the tree. Concern was writ that elections were going to be held in the jungle.
large on their faces. Gradually, the other animals of The animals felt that they had reached the highest
the jungle also gathered there. It was an important level of evolution and so they needed an election,
meeting and all the creatures of the jungle were so that they could vote independently and elect a
supposed to meet under the grand old banyan tree. leader for themselves. So long, certain animals had
The birds, mainly the crows and pigeons, had touted themselves as the leaders of the jungle, but
started an animated conversation among that was largely on the basis of size and might.
themselves, chirping away. It took a lot to keep Surely as evolved creatures this was not correct?
them quiet. As the sun dipped over the horizon, They needed a leader who would be elected by
darkness seemed to envelop everybody. Strangely common consensus. Each creature, however small
enough not a single creature yawned or felt sleepy. or insignificant, would have a say. Was this not the
They were all excited and apprehensive at the same sign of evolution? However, there was one element
time. Only the cubs and the other offspring of the that was lurking in the deepest recesses of every
animals were missing at the spot. They had gone animal's mind. It was Fear.
off to sleep.
There were two animals contesting in the election.
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 CATEGORY - 1

Going by their intrinsic qualities, both of them One faction supported the Lion. One could not tell
were equally powerful, but in two different ways. whether it was out of a genuine belief that the Lion
One contestant was the Wise Owl and the other would be good for them, or whether they knew
was the Mighty Lion. The Wise Owl had already that the Lion would reward them with privileges,
started his campaign, addressing various such as the better part of the jungle, a greater share
gatherings, in which he had outlined how he in the resources of the jungle, twisting the laws to
would espouse the cause and problems of every suit them and other such scraps which would fall
creature. He would bring up the important issues from his table. Also, the Lion was a formidable
of security and safety from the predators - the adversary. He had strong allies. The faction felt
that it was easier to give in without being too
humans. He would point out the depleting habitat,
particular about values. Moreover hadn't he
the lack of a green cover and he would also speak
changed? He had spent a whole week meditating
about the dangers of poaching. The owl was a alone in the jungle and had sworn off meat. Look
learned old man who had lived in the jungle from at his deeds of charity!
his birth. He knew the jungle like the back of his
hand and was concerned about the problems faced The Wise Owl listened to the animals. He had the
by the inhabitants. He also realized that in unity wisdom to understand that the Lion was merely
lay strength. Most of the wild creatures had grown putting on a show. He could see through the
up in his presence. Some often came to him for façade of goodness put on by the Lion and see his
advice and direction in times of trouble. actual plan. On the day of the election more than
ninety percent of the animals voted in favour of
The Lion on the other hand was a different kettle of their new saviour, the Lion. The "soft hearted,
fish. He was a magnificent creature and he charitable Lion" won the election by an
prowled about around the jungle as a lord. He unprecedented majority. The Wise Owl retreated
thought nothing of making a meal of any creature into the shady depths of the jungle and waited for
which crossed his path. His needs had to be the awful reality to occur. True enough, it did not
satisfied and he would get his needs by fair means take the Lion too long to reveal his real self. He
or foul. However, now things seemed to be declared that the animals must learn to sacrifice
different. Since the previous week, the Lion had their comfort and safety for the 'greater good' of
gone out of his way to make friends with the other the jungle. As the animals became lean and
hungry, they helplessly saw the Lion grow sleeker
creatures. He expressed his desire to do works of
and well-nourished as he prospered. Nothing was
charity and social service. He distributed largesse
heard of the kid any more. Some declared they had
not only to the jackals who followed him heard sounds of its bleating one night but no one
everywhere but to all those he deemed important dared to question. That would attract the severest
for his ends. A kid goat's mother had died of punishment.
illness and the Lion had kept the kid in his cave
and his wife, the Lioness had fed the kid her own Meanwhile, by the light of the crescent moon, the
milk. The Lion had even saved a wild dog from owl wrote his message to his fellow creatures: "We
drowning without caring for his grand mane of mistook the meaning of wisdom. We had evolved
which he was very proud. no doubt, but only physically. This election shows
this. Only when we have the courage to do what
The animals were puzzled. Can a Lion ever change we know what is morally correct, will true
his nature? Meanwhile intense discussions were on. democracy flourish. We thought that by holding an
The animals kept discussing who would be their election we were being democratic. Democracy
ideal leader. Who would not sell them down the demands courage, values, understanding and the
river and devise means to keep the predators out. ability to distinguish right from wrong. As long as
Already the predators were uncomfortably close. we don't have these qualities, we will continue to
Only the other day they had killed a huge elephant be exploited. We should be able to voice our
for its tusks. Not only that, they had even taken opinions without fear. We must be heard". The owl
in his wisdom had read many books and so he
photographs posing beside the dead elephant! Now
concluded with the words of Dante: "The darkest
the animals had had enough. They needed a leader
places in Hell are reserved for those who maintain
who would be their saviour.
their neutrality in times of moral crisis."

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Hiranandani Foundation School, Powai, Mumbai

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The Hiranandani Foundation School is a co-educational,

Vrinda Sharma English medium school affiliated to the Council for the Indian
School Certificate Examinations, New Delhi founded in 1990
Class XII by the Hiranandani Foundation, a registered charitable trust.
Hiranandani Foundation School The objective of the school is to mould students who become
creative, inventive and innovative young men and women
Powai, Mumbai capable of doing new things.
Maharashtra At the Hiranandani Foundation School we believe in providing
education without the constraints of any sort.
We also believe in inculcating a sense of integrity and personal
responsibility by sensitizing them to ideas and topics of global
significance. The Principal, Mrs. Kalyani Patnaik provides the
able leadership to achieve the aims of the school.

WAYS TO FOSTER DEMOCRACY IN SCHOOL

T
he first democratic institution that I was been heard. This is what democracy means to
introduced to was my very own home. We me - the right to hold an opinion, a point of view,
are a small unit of four - my parents, my the right to express that point of view, and the
older sister and me. Perhaps it would do this piece right to be heard.
some good to introduce you to my idea of a
democracy. I was born into the kind of family that After our homes, our schools play the most
few people have the privilege of belonging to. significant role in shaping our perception of
Growing up, my mother would tell me that nobody ourselves and the world. The account which is to
has absolute knowledge of what is right or wrong. follow is a personal dream, inspired initially by my
One could only truly rely on oneself – not even fascination for sticks of chalk and the blackboard,
one’s parents - to sift through the black, white and and fuelled through the years by the agitation of a
grey of life. I admire my mother for having the teenager trapped within the monotonous four walls
courage to help me to cut through the glory and of a class room for seven hours every day and
exaltation that we accord to our seniors. Thus bound by outmoded rules made by adults. I want
within the four walls of my home I have always to take you to the place that I often visit when I
expressed my opinions (even my most gaze into the distance, bored with a routine that I
controversial ones), frankly, and I have always don’t need or understand.

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Welcome to the school of which I am the Principal humming with activity as the students used
in this account - Daydreamers’ Academy. their iPads to conduct research. They made
presentations, learned in groups and questioned
My eyes gently sweep over the crowd under the
each other. Every student was free to voice his
big banyan tree. The sunlight filters through the
view and agree or dissent in the learning process.
leaves and dissolves in the laughter and
The students had wanted it this way. What a far
conversation of the sea of students and teachers.
cry from the days when we were cooped up in
The students in their many hued clothes are like
classrooms meekly taking down whatever the
bright flowers in the sunshine - quite unlike the
teacher said. In one corner the middle school
uniform - clad regimented rows of children sitting
children had set up a shop and by buying and
in deathly silence as was the picture when I was a
selling things, learnt about profit and loss. A
student many years ago. I remember the frowning
Mathematics teacher was on the field teaching
face of the teacher, silently reprimanding me for
Mathematics through a game. A smile played on
whispering to my friend during assembly as either
my lips when I saw the Economics teacher teaching
the Principal or a senior teacher, droned on and on
students about market forms through basketballs
about values and duties. Now the rows were more
on the court.
relaxed, the students and teachers were not
segregated but formed a total unit. It wasn’t a I climbed up the stairs to the conference room,
“Them versus Us” situation at all. The students had where the Student Council members elected by the
wanted to bring about a change in the way the students were waiting for me with some teachers.
assembly was conducted. Since it was their A few blueprints were scattered on the long table.
assembly, their views were heard and the They outlined the changes in classes and
necessary changes made. curriculum that the students had asked for, I saw
that they wanted classes in Soft Skills and Life
As I tapped the microphone, the voices gradually
Skills, Management of Personal Finance and Yoga.
died down. No teacher or monitor walked up and
They wanted experts from the field of Business and
down the lines enforcing discipline. The students
Finance to talk to them. Glancing through their
used to hate assembly, deeming it a waste of time.
proposals, I asked for some time to make the
A referendum was held and the students were
logistical arrangements. As I did so, I remembered
encouraged to express their views on assemblies.
reluctantly reading my Physics book for the twenty
Since they felt they had a say in what they would
third time, without any interest or understanding
do, assembly was attended spontaneously and
of how the matter studied would make a difference
discipline was self-imposed. I made a few
to my life.
announcements and then the volunteers for the day
took over. They spoke to their fellow students. The As I walked over to the small hall at the end of the
assembly came to life as they talked of diverse corridor, I could hear the Student Court in session.
topics and causes close to their hearts. I took notes The students were discussing a discipline issue
as they talked of a range of subjects from rain between two students. They would listen to both
water harvesting to the dangers of online friends sides and come to a conclusion about a course of
and social causes. I smiled to myself as I took action. They would then come to me with their
notes. In my day, we didn’t even remember what recommendation. Their faces were grave and intent
was being talked about at assembly as nobody but I knew they were responsible enough to deal
asked my opinion about what interested me. Their with the matter fairly. A flashback brought to my
ideas about how the school should be run and their mind the endless hours we would spend outside
futuristic views would form part of my planning the Principal’s office being reprimanded, without a
for the school activities. chance to present our side of the matter.
The students dispersed and classes began. The The pictures faded as I felt a sense of pride,
classes were held all over the campus, under the I thought about the ways in which we were
trees, under the jungle gyms, in chemistry labs and preparing our students to take on their roles as
beside the pool. In fact the whole school was citizens of a free and fair democracy.

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Smt. Sulochanadevi Singhania School, Thane

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Smt. Sulochanadevi Singhania School, Thane, founded in

Siya Manoj Gupta 1968, is a co-educational institution catering to over 6700
students. The school has completed 50 glorious years of
Class XI
Excellence in Education and has lived to its motto, “Offer equal
Smt. Sulochanadevi opportunities to all so that they rise to their fullest potential”.
Singhania School The school is well-known for its innovations in pedagogy,
Thane faculty training, internationalism and rural immersion projects.
The school has produced country toppers in academics,
Maharashtra cultural events and sports. It has also been accredited with the
International-School Award.
The School is headed by Principal Revathi Srinivasan who has
led the school to great heights.

I HAVE THE POWER - I CAN VOTE

I
have the power - I can vote. But they say that equality. A third gets the perfect opportunity and
with great power comes great responsibility. uses it to his advantage. “All men are pigs,” he
So I step out of my home to fulfill my declares. Another immediately shouts, “Women
responsibility. As soon as I start walking, should stay at home!” The argument rapidly
numerous symbols greet me - a star, a rose, a book, escalates into a fight and I retreat from the spot in a
a cycle, a bow and arrow….. I look at them in hurry, only to run into another group of people.
wonderment, amazed at the ingenuity of the
human mind. “Madam would you like a temple to be built?”
they ask.
Now the representatives of the various symbols “No thank you,” I answer.
approach me. Their spiel begins. One of them says
that their leader belongs to my community. I “A mosque then?”
declare that I don’t believe in the concept of “A church?”
divisions along the lines of community. At this,
another one perks up. This is his opportunity. His “A gurudwara?”
leader, he declares, supports the minorities and “No. A washroom perhaps? Ramps for the
wants the majorities to be crushed. Irritated, I retort disabled? Clean streets? An embargo on spitting in
that that was not what I meant. I believe in public places?”
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As I reel off my wish list, they walk away and find that no one is listening to me. They have
disinterested. Obviously I am not of any use to headphones in their ears and they are listening to
them. ‘Rap against Dictatorship,’ (A Thai group who are
fighting for democracy) I almost laugh at their
“A little greenery? Less pollution?” I call after them
hypocrisy and walk off.
hopefully.
I come to a dusty path, a road less taken. As I
As I walk ahead, they offer me money. I look at the
wearily tread upon it, I meet a poet who has not
notes - they look black. I see a bald man trying to
been bought out yet, a teacher who still teaches
convince a few people who look completely
about what is right, a journalist who is so tired of
disinterested. I see a crowd following their leader
speaking the truth that his voice is almost lost, a
who is haranguing them with tempting promises.
student who has been jailed and labeled an anti-
Looking at the crowd I am reminded of Mahatma
nationalist for voicing his dissent, a girl burned for
Gandhi’s three monkeys.
dowry, a tiger cowering in the few bushes left.
A group of serious looking intellectuals approach However the road ends abruptly. As I emerge,
me. They are descendants of the artists who lost people surround me. Among them are wily god
their lives fighting for freedom of speech and men and frightening goons. I am tempted and
expression. But this group now markets its threatened. I will be cursed by the holy men and
thoughts and ideas to the highest bidder. They my life will not be safe at the hands of the goons. I
teach the politicians how to mould public opinion almost march to the polling booth. Here the
and what will appeal and what will not. They write security forces take over, preventing the others
songs, poems and flood the social media with their from entering, and I heave a sigh of relief.
insidious words. And behind it all, is the refrain,
As I stand before the voting machine, weighing my
”Vote for him…. Vote for him… vote for him.”
options, various images flash before my eyes.
By now, I am quite disheartened and confused. Just Nehru’s speech on the eve of freedom, the
then I come across a group of ‘apolitical people’. sacrifices of our freedom fighters, the people
They are dressed expensively and talk of foreign fighting in so many countries across the world, for
travel. They criticize the politicians, politics and the this one right. So I say to myself, “I have the power
citizens of our nation, calling them sheep. For right now, right here. I will not be intimidated,
them Election Day is a holiday, a day of rest. I bullied, threatened, and tempted. Let me make the
smile and point out that we are privileged to have best choice”. As I press the button, a soldier smiles
the opportunity to choose our leader. The people of in my mind. I realize that I have done what I knew
so many totalitarian countries cannot do so. As I was correct - using my power to give power to the
talk about the blessings of democracy, I look up person I thought was right. I am at peace.

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Podar International School, Nerul, Mumbai

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Established in the year 1927, by Sheth Anandilal Podar, Podar

Sanjana Shetty Education Network has, from the inception been driven and
motivated by the traditional Indian values of honesty, integrity and
Class XII service.
Podar International School Podar International School, Nerul was established in the year
Nerul, Mumbai 2007. The school strongly believes in the holistic development of
the child. Each student is encouraged to be innovative, committed
Maharashtra and curious. The school believes in providing a conducive
atmosphere for overall development of personality, with special
emphasis on character building and ethics.
The mission of the school is to develop and equip the children of
India for the challenges of the 21st Century.

I HAVE THE POWER - I CAN VOTE

W
ith her head held high, arched back and they choose their representatives, wisely and fairly,
long strides, Rhea walked down the without bias and petty personal considerations?
narrow, crowded street, focusing on Just a few months ago, she had become aware of a
only one thing - the voting centre. After a few momentous event which was about to occur in her
more steps, her eyes zeroed in on it. It was an old life. She would be turning eighteen. She would be
school building with faded paint flaking off the officially considered an adult. And, she would gain
walls and pillars. To Rhea’s eyes, the walls and the right to vote. She would be one of the millions
pillars were not mere aspects of a building. No, who would have the power to decide the future of
they represented democracy, a democratic process her country!
which they were upholding - the structure that
kept the country from crumbling and The day had finally dawned. Rhea’s friends were
disintegrating. very excited. They had planned a grand party for
her. Arriving at Rhea’s house early in the morning,
The possibilities of the next five years flashed in they declared that they had made a lot of plans for
front of her eyes. Would the years ahead be the day - shopping, partying, merry making, and
marked again by poverty, unemployment, the works. Though Rhea went along with their
corruption, drought and hopelessness? Well, it all plans, she had other thoughts occupying her mind.
depended on the citizens of the country. Would She would be entitled to the universal adult
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 CATEGORY - 1

franchise, to exercise her right as a free citizen of rushed forward to help him. Apart from scraped
her country. She spent hours poring over the knees, he had not sustained any injuries. The child
election manifestoes of the various political parties. reminded her of a young boy who lived in the
What were they promising the citizens of the slum near her house. A bright child, his eyes
country if they came to power? How did they always twinkled with intelligence and hope - hope
propose to make the lot of the common man better? for a better future in which he could achieve great
things. It was for children like this that she wanted
Rhea had always been the mature, responsible
a caring, concerned government. One that would
child at home and at school. She had unanimously
give deserving children like him a chance in life.
been chosen the Head Girl of her school and had
He should be given what was his right - a good
carried out her duties very well. No one had to tell
education and equal opportunities to carve his
her about her responsibilities. Her values and
future. There were no government schools in her
strong principles were easily visible in all her
locality. She wanted to change this.
actions and the steps she took in running the
Students’ Council of her school. After school hours The only way that she could ensure the change that
she would devote time to some NGO or the other, she wanted to see was by voting for a government
working for the welfare of society. She often that would do these things and had the same
dreamt of the things that she would do if she ideology. As she reached the election centre, she
became the Prime Minister of her country. She saw a crowd who had come to cast their vote.
would definitely ensure equality, peace and There was eagerness in their eyes. Perhaps they
economic growth. She wished to be the pioneer of a too, had their dreams and hopes for the future. She
revolutionary change through which even the walked up to one of the officials standing there.
citizens of the country could actively participate in One look at her, and the official realized that here
the development of the nation. Of course, all that was someone who was voting for the first time. She
was in the future. For now, she would have to do directed Rhea to the booth. Rhea entered,
what was her duty. completed the formalities and finally found herself
before the all-important EVM. She took a deep
The gentle breeze blowing on her face, reminded
breath and pressed her chosen button. She had
her of where she was going. Seeing a child fall, she
finally exercised her power - her power to vote.

In each and every election, it's your rights,

it's your freedoms, it's your interests
that are on the ballot.
-Todd Young

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Modern High School for Girls, Kolkata

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Arunima Sengupta Founded in 1952 by Rukmani Devi Birla, Modern High School
for Girls, Kolkata, is an all-girls institution committed to
Class XII developing independent and strong young women. The school
Modern High School For Girls takes pride in its ability to blend tradition and modernity. Its
well-integrated student population comprises children from
Kolkata
different socio - economic backgrounds and communities. The
West Bengal school offers a stress-free learning environment
acknowledging the uniqueness of every child. Modern High
School for Girls has an established reputation for academic
excellence, for providing its students with a wide range of
co-curricular activities and lays great emphasis on community
service.

I HAVE THE POWER - I CAN VOTE

A
s soon as I crossed the threshold of the memento of the previous night - the night that had
house, my senses were overcome by refused to end as I screamed and screamed and
the overpowering smell of wrongful begged….. until, mercifully, I lost consciousness.
ambition - the stench of ambition mingled with
Jerked into the present, I gulped down the tears of
vice. Of course, he would be oblivious to it.
boiling hatred and self-pity that had sneaked their
Purposefully so, or should I say used to it? I placed
way to the corners of my eyes. My feet trembled as
the plastic bag of freshly picked marigolds and
I stood at the doorway of the kitchen. My eyes did
china roses on the table. My eyes involuntarily
a quick, thorough survey of the small room. Had it
darted to the stubborn impression of the five
been only yesterday when I was cooking a meal,
fingers imprinted on my wrist. Once again, my
basking in the aroma of the food wafting all over
mind rebelliously refused to shove the memory
the room? I had hummed along with the catchy
away so that the splinters of pain would not hurt
tune that I could hear being played just outside the
me. I forced myself to banish the images of the
window. Suddenly, almost rudely, my peaceful
previous night. Not that I could remember reverie was broken by the bang of the door of the
anything clearly. Everything was a blur of pain. My room. It all happened in a heartbeat, - the rough
hand went unconsciously to the scar on my uncouth voices of strange men, their hot breath all
forehead, just above my left eyebrow - another over me, suffocating me with the stench of cheap

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liquor and their mad laughter. I shrank away and presented to the gullible public. He would be put
tried to escape, but those hands were already up on his pedestal of high honour and he would
touching me, pulling at my cotton saree, those resume his role of the leader of the people asking
unfamiliar hands and among them, one familiar for votes so that he could make their dreams come
pair – my husband’s. Husband? Even through my true. I would be discarded, forgotten, expected to
terror and misery, I gagged at the word. Was that lurk in the shadows till they needed to exploit me
what I was supposed to call him? The man who again. Did I have no power at all? My thoughts
vowed to protect me on our wedding day was the went back all those years to the words of my civics
very one who had been the main perpetrator of my teacher who had explained to us the rights and
humiliation and pain. responsibilities of a citizen in a democracy. In a
democracy there could be no corruption as then the
The hiss of the boiling water made me jump. I
democratic ideals would be flawed. There could be
brewed the tea till it was as dark and as bitter as
no discrimination or exploitation. What was
the life before me, and pouring it out, I tiptoed into
happening now? In my own home? The public did
the dark room, trying not to breathe in the smell of
not know that their leader was corrupt or humble.
depravity and corruption that emanated from the
But what could I do? I was too small, too
creature who lay in a heap on my bed. My foot
insignificant. Again my teacher’s words came back
struck the newspaper which was lying on the floor.
to me. Perhaps I could not lead a rebellion, but I
Perhaps, like all the days, the newspaper man had
could register my dissent.
slipped it through the little crack below the door. I
bent to pick it up, every muscle, nerve and sinew A new resolve filled me as I resolutely stepped out
protesting in pain as my body had endured a lot of the house. I walked straight towards the
the previous day. My eyes fell on the front page neighbourhood school which had been chosen as
which screamed, ‘ELECTION DAY!’ Sitting down the polling station. I could almost feel the song of
on the cold unfeeling floor, I tried to understand liberty, righteousness and democracy echo in my
the words written there. As I stared at it, a small mind. I silently thanked my forefathers for
thorny plant gradually straightened its spine in my reminding me of my rights and also to never give
heart. in to corruption and immorality. I could vote - that
Those men would be here again, but this time to was my power. It might be one small step but
wake up the creature lying in my bed muttering small steps like these could herald a revolution. I
incoherent uncouth words in his drunken stupor. set out to assert my right, my power. I knew what
They would clean him up and take him to be to do.

“The government, whether

state or central, is elected.
That means we have a
responsibility to elect the
right kind of leaders.”

— Abdul Kalam

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The Bishop’s Co-Ed School, Kalyani Nagar, Pune

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Ananya Katyal The Bishop’s Co-Ed School, Kalyani Nagar is an unaided

minority Anglo Indian school. It was established in the year
Class XI 2003, under the aegis of The Bishop’s Education Society. The
The Bishop’s Co-Ed. School school has developed over the years, and continues to be one
of the most sought after schools in the city of Pune. Having
Kalyaninagar, Pune
been founded on the strong system of values prevalent in the
Maharashtra parent school, which is now over a hundred and fifty years old.
The Bishop’s Co-Ed School, Kalyani Nagar provides a platform
to all of the four thousand fourteen students on its rolls, to
reach for the stars!

I HAVE THE POWER - I CAN VOTE

I
pressed my back against the cold wall as tears such a prestigious school even had such words in
poured down my face. I gulped and swallowed their vocabulary! The girls standing beside Vishal
to muffle the sound but to no avail. The had tried to pull at my hijab. My name had been
giggling and whispering on the other side of the contorted, my identity pulled apart and my entire
door only got louder. I stuffed my fist into my persona judged in a matter of seconds.
mouth hoping that it would stifle the animal – like
cry escaping my throat. Finally, the voices died Vishal was the son of the leader of a major political
away as the group of girls left. I was alone in the party. The party was contesting in this year’s
washroom. elections. Everyone knew Vishal’s father as an
urbane scholarly gentleman with broadminded
I could recall the hateful words pouring out of views and a philanthropic heart. But this was only
Vishal’s mouth and the taunts and abuses of his a carefully constructed façade built up by his
friends. His eyes had been red with anger and held media managers and image consultants for the
deep hatred for me. This was surprising for he had unsuspecting public. In reality, he was a despicable
only known me for a day. The words uttered by man who was corrupt to the core. His despicable
them had been crude and shocking. It was deeds would receive a further fillip if he was voted
unimaginable that the refined twelfth graders of into power.

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 CATEGORY - 1

Even though I was in twelfth grade, I had just sound was a crash as someone or something
turned eighteen. So I had the privilege that very toppled to the floor and then there was silence. I
few of my batchmates had - I had the right to cast didn’t need anyone to tell me that male chauvinism
my vote. I was the odd person out in school - just had won again.
one of the economically challenged kids who had
The next few moments passed by in a blur, as my
been taken into the school to preserve its inclusive
sister suddenly took ill and had to be rushed to
image. Without feeling too bad about this, I had
hospital. The exorbitant bills loomed large over us
decided to take advantage of the excellent
as my mother and I sat huddled outside the room.
educational advantages that it offered.
Suddenly I heard a gravelly voice telling my father
Vishal had decided to dislike me from my very not to worry, the bills would be paid. It was Shahid
first day at school. Since I belonged to another uncle again. I was more surprised to see my
community, and I could vote, he assumed that I classmates there, Vishal among them. They looked
would cast my vote in favour of the party concerned as they talked to my mother. Vishal was
belonging to my community. Incidentally, both of especially concerned and sympathetic. Everyone
these parties were at daggers drawn! Today was has a good side after all, I thought.
the day when the votes would be cast. I had to The day had not ended and I was reminded that I
make my decision by sunset. Would I counter hate had not performed one important duty. Leaving
with hate? As I rubbed my arms, I could feel the my mother behind in the hospital, I walked to the
hateful words they had scribbled there. Mother polling booth. I had realized that the choice was
would have a lot of questions about my missing not between black and white or black and black but
hijab as well. I swallowed the panic, the pain and between grey and the lesser grey. Who was the
the anger, tied my hair into a neat bun and left the lesser evil? As I pondered, I did not know whether
stall. Outside, they were still waiting for me, as my choice was the correct one. It was my choice. At
they whispered hateful words to me coupled with the end of the day that was what mattered. All I
threats if I voted for someone else, I panicked and wanted was that my choice should be respected.
pushing them aside with a sudden strength, I The fact that I too have a say in the proceedings of
rushed home. my nation was important.
Even here, there was no peace. My parents were I stood before the EVM and looked at the names.
arguing and the topic of their argument was the My eyes fell on an independent candidate, a
elections. Father’s friend, Shahid uncle was woman, a teacher. I had heard her name a few
standing for elections and Father was espousing his times. She used to teach the street children in the
cause. Shahid uncle was a despicable man who had space under the bridge. I did not know what her
crept into my room one night. Mother had rushed manifesto was, but surely she must have some
in, her motherly instincts on the alert and ideas in mind when she decided to fight the
prevented anything from happening. She would elections. She could not have had much money as
certainly not vote for him and would try her best to her propaganda was low key. In her I saw myself
dissuade anyone to do likewise. in a few years’ time. Perhaps she too was fighting
for change, for equality, for the underprivileged. I
“I have not campaigned for him and I shall pressed the button.
certainly not vote for him,” she declared. I was
impressed for this was the first time that she had As I walked home, I felt a sense of fulfillment. The
ever taken a stand. blue mark on my finger filled me with a sense of
pride, of achievement. I had done my duty.
“Why?” my father thundered. Notwithstanding my sister’s ill health and my
I could not hear what she muttered but the next mother’s bruise, the day had some good in it after all.
“
“ Somewhere inside all of us is the power to change the world.
-Roald Dahl
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Cathedral & John Connon School, Mumbai

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Anuj Khare Standing tall in Mumbai’s Fort area, The Cathedral and John
Connon School has completed 159 years of excellence in
Class XII education in the country. Melding traditional values into a
Cathedral & John Connon contemporary, real-world context, our school prepares
School students to embark on a journey of academic as well as
personal excellence. The Cathedral and John Connon School
Mumbai was founded by the Anglo- Scottish Education Society in
Maharashtra Mumbai, in 1860.
The student body of 1,960 boys and girls is divided into four
Houses named after the founding fathers. There is a fierce
sense of “School first, house next, self-last," as expressed
through our school song.

CAN DEMOCRACY BE DEVOID OF MORALITY?

“The world has made me bitter,” Mr. Raja Tripathi He had not always been this way; the world had
always liked to say. He was a well-known indeed made him bitter.
character in the small town of Karvapur, Orissa.
The spitting image of a middle - aged rundown, Tripathi had joined the world of politics an idealist,
all - in - all exhausted of the system politician, with a vision for a better future and the dream of
Mr. Tripathi was the kind of unapproachable, changing the town which had made him what he
feared man who hadn’t returned any of the seventy was. It took three whole years for this idealism to
eight cricket balls which had fallen in his fenced fade away and cynicism to take its place. He put
yard as the children played outside. However, up a brave fight, but soon realized that one cannot
despite finding pleasure in scolding children and beat the system. It was wiser to conform, so he
adults alike, while ignoring every need of the abandoned his ideals and adopted the corrupt,
community, the politician was well – respected, self - serving lifestyle that his peers were following.
being a seventy year old retired Army doctor. Year No one knew what pushed him over the edge but
after year, he was elected by the population of the late at night, he could be heard pacing up and
town, partly due to lack of choice and partly due to down in his bedroom. Even though he was a
Tripathi’s yearly door-to-door “visits” bearing gifts doctor himself, there was no cure for his insomnia.
and envelopes containing small amounts of money. Sometimes he thought back to the person he used
to be. Very soon however, he would push the
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 CATEGORY - 1

thoughts back. They were uncomfortable, and soul printed ones), pointed out the evils that the people
searching got one nowhere. had endured for so long and cajoled and urged
them to vote for change. Disregarding the ridicule
When Meena Kumari opened the door to Tripathi’s
and the veiled threats from Tripathi’s goons, she
scowling face, she felt disgust. Here was a man
persevered.
who did not care for the members of his
constituency at all. While the town floundered in Result Day rolled around. Quite predictably,
poverty and dilapidation, Tripathi lorded over Tripathi won by a resounding majority. Money
everybody in his fancy bungalow, fancy cars and power and muscle power won over truth and
hordes of servants. He had completely forgotten all integrity. The only comfort was that Meena had not
that the town had done for him. Meena Kumari lost her deposit, some people had voted for her.
thought of the hardships that she herself had to
endure just to make ends meet. The system (and “I guess, democracy is often, even at its grassroots,
Tripathi) had done nothing to lessen her pain. A a sham,”Meena muttered to herself as she walked
widowed mother of two, Meena was something of home. Her thoughts were broken by a cry,
an ostracized activist. Her husband had died in a “Meena!” She turned around. It was Tripathi.
mining accident due, largely, to the lack of safety “Probably, he is going to gloat over me,” She
measures which Tripathi as the local MP should thought to herself.
have ensured. She received no compensation, not
even a measly pension. She had resolutely decided Tripathi reached her. Surprisingly, he had tears in
that she would bring about change and her days his eyes. Meena felt uncomfortable seeing the gritty
were spent in espousing several causes often with old man sniffling and sobbing. “Thank you,” he
little or no effect. The system was too powerful to declared. “I had forgotten what it was to be like
beat. Disheartened, Meena would ask herself you. To have dreams and ideals and work for the
whether all this was worth it. people. I don’t know when I let the system
overtake me. But I assure you that from now on,
That day, as she opened the door to Tripathi, she things will change for the better.”
felt disgust at how immoral a democracy can be.
Out of the disgust arose a sudden resolve to fight Within ten years, Karvapur had become one of the
the system. She decided to contest the elections.. most developed towns in the state. Tripathi had
The small town was aghast. A new contender? That kept his promise and now he was famous but for
too a woman? And the woman, Meena Kumari? different reasons. He was still mean and
The amusement turned into reluctant admiration as cantankerous and often, downright blasphemous,
Meena, with her limited means, and almost no but now he worked for the cause of his people.
support, campaigned relentlessly, distributed Often it takes one person, one voice or even one act
handwritten pamphlets ( she could not afford to set democracy back on its rails.

“If you have selfish, ignorant

citizens, you're gonna get
selfish, ignorant leaders.”
- George Carlin

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G. D. Birla Centre for Education School, Kolkata

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Veena Venugopal The G. D. Birla Centre for Education School was established in
the year 1973 in what is now, the bustling residential area of
Class XI Ranikuthi, Tollygunge, at the southern fringes of Kolkata.
G. D. Birla Centre For Education The School prides itself on being an educational institution that
Kolkata has set its mark in academic fields as well as in co-curricular
West Bengal activities, emphasising the theme of value education.
The School provides the necessary environment for the
physical and mental development of the students. A sense of
responsibility and independent thinking is inculcated in the
minds of the students, enabling them to take up challenges in
academic and co-curricular fields.

I HAVE THE POWER - I CAN VOTE

NOTA forward for the next five years.

None of the above When I looked around me, and investigated the
candidates who were standing for election, I was
horrified. How could I choose a corrupt person
This four lettered word has given us a rare power. who, without any scruples whatever, would only
I can vote, I will vote, but I withhold the choice of use the opportunity to pursue his own agenda?
any particular candidate. I have been eligible to Democracy today has become a veil behind which
vote ever since I turned eighteen in the year 2010. all kinds of corruption is flourishing. Patriotism is
However, once the euphoria had evaporated (the completely absent in most of the politicians. Those
power to vote is one of the things that marks one who declare that they love their country are merely
out as a responsible adult) the enormity of my paying lip service to patriotism. Most of the public
responsibility struck me. It was not a mere matter is gullible and blindly believe their false promises
of getting one’s finger inked or of pressing the and tall claims. Lack of education and awareness is
button of the EVM. I had to choose a worthy also a contributing factor. The ordinary people are
representative who would present our concerns taken in by the sops given by the politicians and
and needs to parliament and guide the country the lure of jobs and employment. Like sheep, they

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 CATEGORY - 1

are taken to the booths and obediently press the and self-seekers.
button that they are told to press.
I have a long list of who or what my representative
The population feels that they have the power. This should be. I have taken the decision that I will not
is because the politicians understand their cast my vote in favour of anyone till I find the
psychology and cleverly make them feel powerful. proper person. Sometimes I think of the founding
They think that they are taking the decisions fathers of our nation. Was this the dream they
whereas they actually are manipulated by the dreamed or the country that they fought for,
politicians and their flunkeys. As a young educated sacrificing their present so that the future of the
adult, I feel I do have the power - the power to country would be brilliant? Ours is a country of
change things for the better. I have to help my infinite possibilities. Instead of following the ideals
fellow countrymen to understand what their vote of our founding fathers, we have played into the
actually means. They must be made to understand hands of the British and their agenda to divide us
the reasons for choosing a particular individual or along the lines of caste, creed and region. So even
a particular political party. In the nine years since I today, we have a leader belonging to a particular
became eligible to vote, I have regularly pressed caste or community asking the group to which he
the NOTA button, hoping that if enough of us do belongs, to vote for him. If voted into power what
so, people will wake up and understand the will such a person contribute to the country?
message that is being conveyed through this.
It is of prime importance that the reins of our
What people should realize is that voting is not country be in the hands of people who understand
merely choosing a candidate or a part. It means the ideals of democracy and think of the country as
choosing the thoughts, concerns, ideas as well as a whole in which every individual, group,
opinions that the person or party has regarding the community, religion and region has a voice. As a
present and future of his own motherland. The young person, I am optimistic, I have hope and I
politician or his party is not merely about hope that such a day does come. When such a day
campaigns or processions or protests and comes I shall certainly exercise my power - I will
‘dharnas’. He is also about the welfare schemes, the cast my vote. This time it will not be NOTA, but
job opportunities to be created; the welfare projects the party who can reflect all the colours which
the economic concerns that will benefit the country. together make up my country. I will then be proud
Very few politicians whom I have listened to, fulfill that my contribution in the form of my vote will
this criteria. Most of them are dream merchants, ensure the future of my country.
selling impossible dreams to the citizens before the
Till then I will wait in patience and I will withhold
elections. Once they win, the bubble bursts and we
my power.
see them for what they actually are - manipulators

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“
Choose a leader who will invest in building
bridges, not walls. Books, not weapons.
Morality, not corruption. Intellectualism and
wisdom, not ignorance. Stability, not fear and
terror. Peace, not chaos. Love, not hate.
Convergence, not segregation. Tolerance, not
discrimination. Fairness, not hypocrisy.
Substance, not superficiality. Character, not
immaturity. Transparency, not secrecy.
Justice, not lawlessness. Environmental
improvement and preservation, not

”
destruction. Truth, not lies.

-Suzy Kassem
CATEGORY 2

Democracy is a festival. It is a
festival of creating our own
future and the youth are at the
centre of creating India's future.

-Narendra Modi
 CATEGORY - 2

Vidyashilp Academy, Bengaluru

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Over the last 22 years, Vidyashilp Academy has been

Siya Elizabeth Jacob recognized worldwide for its unique curriculum and teaching
Class X practices. We are an extended day school from Grade 1 to 12,
with classes running from 8 am to 3.45 pm. Our curriculum
Vidyashilp Academy lends itself to a smooth and structured transition, meeting the
Bengaluru requirements of both the Council for the Indian School
Certificate Examinations (ICSE and ISC) and the University Of
Karnataka
Cambridge International Examinations for the international
general certificate of secondary education (IGCSE, AS and A-
Level) course as a registered Cambridge International Centre.

SCENES ON ELECTION DAY

T
he day dawned bright and early for me as I distance, I felt nostalgic to see some familiar faces
was hung high to announce "Election Day is of the polling officers enter the building. I could
here!" My versatility allowed me to grace tell this area may give them trouble because I saw
many occupations but this kind of job was my the experienced faces had deep furrows between
favourite one. You see, being a banner is something their brows. They trudged along to the lone
I enjoyed being, given the places I visit and sights I periwinkle booth, EVMs in hand and a monstrous
see. Today was especially wonderful as it was the stack of top - secret government papers clamped
day when thousands of people would have their under their arms. One simply had to appreciate
voices heard, their opinions taken into account. As the dedication with which these officers would
a banner I would get to see this, first hand. travel from state to state, city to city, town to town.
They toiled tirelessly to ensure everyone had a
Today I was stationed at a sleepy yet buzzing town
voice in choosing the next leader. Furthermore they
which had recently been greeted by the
had to stay alert, mentally and physically agile at
rejuvenating rains. The ground of the polling
all times. I wondered how they did it at all.
station was slushy. I thanked my lucky stars for
letting me fly much higher, with the pleasant Within an hour more banners were set up - some
breeze caressing me gently. Though I was at a advocating honest voting, some, for the upcoming

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elections and plenty for the candidates. Dozens of back away. Alas, it was futile, for the capturers had
my brethren in the many – hued colours of saffron, cornered virtually all possible exits. I was in panic
emerald, pink and green greeted my humble black too for it was going to be a miracle to get us safely
and white lettering as we acknowledged each out of the dire circumstance. Gaining no response,
other’s presence and willingness to battle anything their leader fired two gunshots into the air when a
the weather may throw at us. The polling booth miracle came in the form of the quick townsfolk
was ready as well, with offices and authorities watching from afar. Their stealthy actions brought
standing upright in their modest cotton shirts and a good dozen police officials who snaked their
khaki trousers. Their darting eyes looked out to see way in no time jumping on the terrorising
if voters were piling in and soon a string of citizens capturers and holding them down with their
entered to exercise their right to adult franchise. might. The voters erupted in a unique blend of
They stepped in meekly, with their photo ID cards shock and relief as the booth capturers were taken
in hand, cautiously moving to the booth. away to the police van to be sent straight to jail. A
riot of cheers rose for the prompt officers who had
Slowly more voters began trickling in, all varying
acted promptly and waited for the correct moment
in ages and characteristics. There were old woman
to pounce.
with antique nose pins and earrings, bangle on
wrists. Everyone came out with a smear of navy Eventually the hustle and bustle of Election Day
on their index finger. Some were young adults, was restored as everyone rushed back to their
basking in exuberance who came out of booth with places in the queues. The relieved polling officers
the satisfaction of being responsible for the nation. got back to their squeaky plastic chairs and assured
With a smile plastered on their faces they proudly everyone that everything was going to be fine. The
clicked selfies showing off the stamp of indelible townsfolk rapidly discussed the sudden detour of
ink. Small shrieking children would cower behind events and recalled every detail thanking God for
their mothers on seeing the imposing camouflage- their good fortune. It was fascinating to see how
uniformed officers with the rifles. The mother such an agonising event brought everyone together
would coax the child out of the booth and tell her to continue with the elections. As the day
not to be scared. This action made me realise that progressed, so many more keen individuals came
soon enough those little hands would weigh towards the bright blue booth to cast their vote and
their opinion about the country’s future - how show off the indigo mark on their index finger. It
thought - provoking! was a matter of pride to many as they were voting
for the first time.
The day was stretching by amicably with the pitter-
patter of feet and shouts of wonder at the polling By the lazy part of the afternoon coffee and tea was
process. However no sooner had I let my ends being passed around as the booth officers began to
sway down a bit, than a throng of men jumped in. wind up for the day. They neatly packed up all the
Their mouths were hidden by colourful bandanas, equipment, all the papers and finally helped me
eyes streaked demonic red in anger, implied one down from my post. The breeze picked up in a
thing - they were booth capturers. The rifles they delightful speed and blew across an aura of peace
swung on their shoulders were just an opening act and calm after the day. In celebration the
to the threats they poured out in bombastic voices townspeople took up their instruments and sang in
and terrifying looks. They proudly announced to euphoria. It was a miracle of that day which left
everyone at the booth they were not leaving till everyone happy, singing in praise of their faith.
they got their way. You could clearly see that they Seeing their job done, the polling officials took me
would stop at no obstacle to manipulate the town's along on the tedious journey back to another state,
result. The voters had horror - stricken expressions another city, another town, to get the mandate of
painted on their faces as they attempted to slowly the people on the day of elections.

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Hill Top School, Jamshedpur

nd
2
RANK

Hill Top School was started 43 years ago and is today,

Akshansh Kumar recognized as one of the premier institutions in the city. The
Class IX school’s vision is to facilitate value based, holistic education
that combines the spirit of enquiry with positive social attitudes
Hill Top School to nurture sensitive human beings.
Jamshedpur In the past decade, the school has had a string of achievers not
Jharkhand only at the ICSE & ISC levels but also in all branches of
extracurricular activities at national and international forums.
The school’s Value Education programme is unique and its
international collaborations for exchange of pedagogy have
been outstandingly enriching.

ARE WE HAPPY IN A DEMOCRACY?

I was born out of agitation like a refulgent

beacon of hope in our abyss of despondency. I
was born to be the ultimate panacea in a world
of failed homo sapiens writhing in pain, with their
My counter parts-Dictatorship and
Authoritarianism were facing their annihilation.
They had tears of agony while I rejoiced. They
were mute spectators to nothing but darkness
wounds from wars and oppressions galore, while I was a frolicsome yet grave spectator to
bleeding a malevolent red. From the crowded eternal glory.
'Tennis Court' to the sophisticated constitutions,
from the bleeding hearts of men to the ones who Years passed by and then I started experiencing an
dreamt of the impossible - I pervade the senses of apprehension which was unprecedented. While the
millions. I am not an individual but known as people shouted 'freedom' I perceived 'slavery',
Democracy. when they shouted 'equality' my ears rang with the
cacophony of oppression and when they saw 'light'
Like a magnificent pearl I was admired by many I saw 'darkness'. I remembered what my
and then I spread like wildfire from small dusty counterparts had said an eternity ago, "You are
precincts to huge masses of nations and continents. going to meet your end." I weep now with tears
My flame flickered regal yellow conquering trickling down my cheeks incessantly.
everything, everywhere.

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A journalist lying dead with his eyes closed and his millions, a new era of hooliganism embarked.
broken body in a quagmire of disgusting red blood.
Lying all frozen and oblivious to the heaven he Hindus brutally lynched the Muslims and Muslims
lived in, the white snow covered him in his last attacked the Hindu counterparts. Party factions
moments on this exquisite planet. The shot him in and religious bigotry ripped the country into
the mouth silencing his dissenting voice once and shreds.
for all. They killed a part of my existence, a part A widowed mother sat waiting at the door as dusk
called right to speech and then on that stormy continued to engulf the world. She sat there
night amidst the snowcapped mountains I waiting for her son. Little did she know that her
whispered "Are we Happy in a democracy?" son was being trampled to death only because of
Not many miles away I came across another victim racial differences.
of their maddening rage. They called her "Gouri". The barbarism intensified, with hatred in the veins
She was writhing in pain as the blood drained from of a particular faction. They continued to stab the
her body in the stillness of the night. Battered and womb from which they came into this world, with
bruised they killed another part of me, chocking arrogance, greed and bigotry to kill me,
me to silence. Democracy.
I wept but not a single soul listened as they In spite of the ravages which have left me in pain,
continued to make this Paradise a battlefield again. like a lost psychotic, I find meanings and hope
I was like a feeble old man on the verge of which meant nothing to them. I find meaning in
annihilation nonplussed at what was happening this lost world when Section 377 is deemed invalid
around me while they continued to erase certain I try to connect my fragmented existence when I
boundaries between Democracy and Dictatorship, see a Muslim helping a Hindu, a Dalit and a
between Humanity and Hatred. Brahmin laughing together, a literate bringing light
While all this happened I saw a beacon of hope in the lives of countless ignorant people. I am on
that I would finally be salvaged from my the way to find myself once again, rediscover my
deplorable condition, from my eradication as I saw lost spark in the rarest moment at the remotest
the flags of my favourite colour. The flags fluttered places.
in everyone's houses and in everyone's hearts. At this juncture I asked myself, "Are we happy in a
Everyone sang praises and I too. But alas! There as democracy?" I hear reverberating echoes of "Yes"
a devil in all this glory behind the infinite and "No" and I whisper to myself once again, "Are
promises. As soon as the colour was embraced by we happy in a democracy?"

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Calcutta Girls’ High School, Kolkata

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Set up under the patronage of Lord Canning in 1856, Calcutta

Mayukhi Khan Girls' High School remains under the aegis of the Methodist
Class X Church of India. Throughout its glorious history of 163 years,
this premier institution has remained true to its objectives in not
Calcutta Girls’ High School
only imparting knowledge, but also imbibing in educands skills
Kolkata to survive a world outside the protective shield of the school.
West Bengal Taking its role in nation building seriously, the school provides
for an all-round development of the girl child, honing talents
and tapping potential, to create ideal citizens who flourish in the
cultural and spiritual heritage of this great nation.

ARE WE HAPPY IN A DEMOCRACY?

“Hey, hear me out!”, spoke a feeble, shaky voice. desperate eyes, “Have I failed completely?”
Citizen couldn’t be bothered. He had his own
Citizen couldn’t provide an immediate response.
business to dutifully attend to, his own tiring work
He stood there – words forming a lump in his
to be compulsorily completed, and his own hopeful
throat but was unable to find their way out.
children to feed. So he continued walking, his back
turned to the speaker. Democracy continued. Her pitiful voice could be
heard again. “I feel strongly that I have lost my
“Stop!” the voice pleaded, “Please listen to me!”
purpose. I have let go of the very essence with
Out of the faint but sure sense of politeness in his which I had come into existence. My precious
conscience, he turned – and saw it was Democracy; identity is nowhere to be found and cherished.”
tired, weary, grief-stricken and suffering from the She hung her head down in shame and shook her
unbearable guilt of failure. head with an air of burning, excruciating sadness.
“I’m defeated – lost in a dark abyss of desolation,
“Alright”, Citizen said, “Go on”.
self-doubt and utter contempt for myself.”
Democracy let out a long melancholy sigh. “Are
Citizen could not find the words to console her.
you even happy with me?” she questioned with

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“You’re not wrong”, he spoke in a hushed, muted “How can your heart, soul and mind ever permit
voice. A grim, heavy blanket of seriousness you to be happy and contented if you know, with a
enveloped them. heavy heart, that you have no importance in this
vast plethora of selfish power of the chosen few?”
“I have had to suffer through innumerable evil
problems. Trauma and Fear have overthrown me,” Citizen stepped forward. “I cannot deny what you
said Citizen. “I have been cheated, lied to and put have spoken, for it is – as terrible as it sounds – the
through the dark shadows of doubt and truth. But have you acknowledged the comforting
contemplation. I have worried, again and again, for fact, that without you, I would have no choice at
your survival and well-being”, he consoled all? I would be an ignored, lost soul, an
Democracy, who looked up at him with innocent unimportant pebble on the dusty roadside of a
eyes. busy city. But it is not so.”

Citizen opened his thirsty, parched throat again, “I Citizen smiled and Democracy looked up to meet
watched with helpless, tear-filled eyes as you his eyes. His soothing, warm expression restored a
slowly became polluted with selfish motives, dirty tiny piece of her lost confidence.
politics, greed for money and total dishonesty and “Even in these evil times – when politicians do
disregard for your values. You were ruthlessly nothing but cherish the art of destruction – can I be
disrespected, Dem.” stopped from going out to vote on a sunny
Democracy stared up at the open sky, brilliantly summer morning, with the sweet chirping of birds
painted pink and azure with the setting sun’s reaching our ears? Who can stop the valuable drop
ambitious rays. of dark indelible ink being marked on our
forefingers? For I, as a citizen, still hold power.
“How can I be content with myself when I’m fully Some voices remain unheard and unanswered;
aware of the hated that you are unhappy about? I some tear filled eyes have been harshly turned
failed to provide you the joy and satisfaction that away like a stray dog from your threshold. But not
you so rightly deserve.” all! I, as a citizen, shall make use of the full
authority I have been gifted valuable importance
Citizen put his hand on her shoulder and looked
from our Constitution. For our happiness in you,
down at his feet. He was feeling disturbingly
Democracy, lies in our own hands, who we choose
uneasy.
to elect, who we bestow the power to guide us. If
“Every day, the newspapers carry gigantic we decide correctly what is important, educate
headlines. The news reporters keep on straining ourselves and nurture the hope of progress, if we
their voices with boredom – filled eyes, the screens do not let our minds sway to the cursed boundaries
of your smart phones fill up with hundreds of of religion, caste and communalism, who has the
news notifications”, Dem said while shaking her power to stop us from being happy with what we
head. “But is there one piece of good news? No. gift ourselves?”
Another person being cruelly deprived of his
Democracy sighed again, but this time, with a
hard-earned wealth with yet another minister, slight sweet smile breaking out from the corner of
sitting on a majestic throne of utmost and her lips. She looked up again at the vast infinite
indestructible power ruining my transparency by a sky now filled with sparkling luminous tiny dots.
snap of his fingers. Families at their dinner table For, the faith and trust at the bottom of Pandora’s
converse about my sad state, about the country’s Box is what truly symbolizes Human Nature.
inevitable ruin. Is that what I want to hear?” She
finally released her breath that she had been Still with a heavy heart, Democracy smiled
holding on as long as she had spoken these words. joyfully, evidently displaying the glorious glimmer,
She sighed again – in utter desolation. the ever burning lamp, the beautiful blessed
sparkle of Hope in her eye.

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The Bishop’s Co-Ed School, Undri, Pune

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The Bishop’s Co-Ed School Undri is amongst the leading

Harini Vijayakumar schools in the city of Pune. It is the sister school of The
Class X Bishops’ School, Camp which has a history of 155 years. The
Bishop’s Co-Ed School, Undri commenced in 2006 with a
The Bishop’s Co-Ed. School mere 1280 students, this number has now grown to 5000+
Undri, Pune students in 2019. Besides academics, physical and emotional
development of the children, a lot of stress in laid on moral
Maharashtra
development and spirituality. The school is renowned for its
various activities such as Art & Craft, Music, Dramatics, Quiz,
Elocution, Debates and a plethora of sporting activities.

SCENES ON ELECTION DAY

T he pulsing of their war – cry grew steadily

stronger, inching closer with the ferocity of a
vivacious animal. Orange-clad supporters
thronged the streets, marching straight to the
This fear – deriving procession was however
diverted at the sight of a school bus, painted with a
certain artistic flair. The mere sight of vehicle
enraged the mob to such an extent, that they took it
polling station, their number large enough to upon themselves to deface the school, which dared
induce a parting in the crowd, the scene veering a to commit such a heinous act.
strange resemblance to when Moses parted seas.
Anger fueling their hatred, one of the supporters
As their slogans grew fiercer, passers – by watched marched up to the parked school bus, and grabbed
with awe, praying intensely for the future of the the conductor by the collar “Who dares to go to
country, should the government fall into the hands school today?” he spat, casting angry stares at the
of these savages, in the disguise of party students within the bus. “You think schooling is
campaigners. While they made their way around more important than the government, don’t you?
the constituency, promoting their campaign’s Pathetic fools like you should be locked up.”
benefits and interests, they left nothing behind but
a distasteful sight of banners, flags and other The conductor writhed under his grasp, trying to
paraphernalia strewn across the streets, and loads shut the man out of the bus, but all it took was a
of anguish for the commuters. slight wave of the campaigner’s hand, and ten

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furious supporters appeared by his side. The his system, after which he laid there, on the side of
conductor was then thrown down onto the ground, the street, layers of dust piling up onto him, in
and an incomprehensible number of fists went nature’s way of fashioning a coffin.
flying at him.
Not much occurred post the above event, but the
The bus driver seized this opportunity, and sped newspapers of the day after, reported ghastly
off, not caring if the door was left unattended, details of the previous night.
grateful that the children were still inside, albeit,
frightened beyond words. A young woman was walking down the street,
casting wary glances at the obsidian sky above her.
Later that afternoon, a young boy, clutching tightly The wind whipped around her coat, the only
onto his mother’s arm, let out a yelp of pain when protection she had against Mother Nature’s
he was amidst the crowd. He fell to the ground, pent – up anguish. She contemplated hailing a taxi,
clasping his foot fervently, looking around for the but the deserted streets left her with no options,
offender. He looked up at his mother with a plea of other than what she feared to use – public
help, but it was soon clear to him, that she was transport.
already swept away by the crowd.
She walked to the nearby station, clutching tightly
He turned to his injured foot, finding a two – inch at the purse in her hands, and in the blink of an
long shard of glass, embedded deeply into his foot. eye was swarmed by a mob of party campaigners.
The blood which seeped out left him horrorstruck. They leered at her as she made her way across the
He limped to the closest person he could make street, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible.
amidst the growing crowd, and approached the But the men drew closer, their cat calls and lewd
only individual standing outside. comments multiplying in their number of
obscenities.
“Uncle, please let me go in. My foot is hurt.” He
said, trying to hold back the tears that were so But when she felt a hand grab her waist, she knew
close to spilling. The guard who stood outside, her time was over. The next morning, once the last
looked at him with apparent distaste, as if not polling station in the country was closed, the
wanting to converse with the boy. “You won’t get journalists of a leading newspaper held a
much help here. It is the lunch break, and there conference. “Which of these events should be
shan’t be anyone inside.” Each word pierced the suppressed?” asked a timid journalist.
boy’s heart like a dagger. Just then a mob of people
who appeared to campaigning for a certain local “The country should be made to believe that
party arrived at the polling station. However, in nothing but voting took place yesterday night”,
stark contrast to the boy’s interaction with the said the party chief in a definitive tone. No one
guard, it only took three five – hundred rupee dared to demand justice for the fallen souls. The
notes, before the party supporters were granted chief’s words were final and binding.
access by the guard. Thus, while the country heard no more of these
The boy watched in disbelief, before losing fallen souls, only a few shall remember these
consciousness due to the steady loss of blood from ghastly scenes which took place on Election Day.

“The ignorance of one voter in a

democracy impairs the security of all.”

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Christ Church School, Mumbai

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5
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Christ Church School is a private unaided Christian Anglo-

Juzer Malbari Indian minority school affiliated to the CISCE, Delhi; conducting
Class X classes from playgroup to Std XII (ICSE & ISC). It is run under
the aegis of the Bombay education society which was
Christ Church School
established in 1815. The school cherishes its Anglo-Indian
Mumbai heritage and seeks to inculcate in its students, values of peace,
Maharashtra brotherhood, ethics and mutual respect. Its spacious campus
and dedicated faculty provide the right ambience for young
minds to develop in consonance with the school’s vision to
empower, educate and enlighten. In fact the school’s students
are encouraged to reach out to the least and the lost in society.

ARE WE HAPPY IN A DEMOCRACY?

M
r Jones walked into 'Del Monte' cafeteria Mr. Jones started "Oh Fred, no need to be sorry
in a dingy building in the heart of about it. This is not your fault after all. The new
Mumbai. He found an empty table and form of government after the British rule is not as
sat on a chair. After ordering an ‘Expresso’ and a horrible as it seems whatever you may say,”
garlic toast, the old man wondered, "Why hasn't Mr. Peter said rather impatiently, "Well, why do
Frederick come yet? He's extremely punctual and you think so?" Mr. Jones said "It's much better than
it is a rarity for him to reach late for an the British rule. You needn't be ashamed of
appointment. Something must be wrong." He had belonging to your country. One does not have to
to wait for another thirty minutes after which behave in a subservient manner with any
Frederick Peters came hobbling in. He said "Sorry, foreigners. We do not need to worry about
for being late old boy. I had to take a bus as the achieving independence in our own country.
taxi drivers have gone on strike. People going off People can express their dissatisfaction with any
on a demonstration at the drop of a hat are policy of the government without worrying about
paralyzing the traffic. This new government is being beheaded. We can raise our heads with pride
simply rotten. Well, anyway I apologize for causing when we proclaim our nationality. Reservations
so much inconvenience to you. After muttering an ensure that the minorities get their rights. I think
expletive, he sat down. the present form of government is really good."

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Mr. Jones stopped for breath and Mr. Peter said Demonstrations and roadblocks cause
sarcastically, "Well Sir, do you have any more inconvenience to citizens in their daily life putting
praises to shower on the new form of traffic to halt. Red tapism, corruption, religious
government?" bigotry and heavy taxation for the salaried people
have been detrimental for the country. Reservation,
Mr. Jones firmly reiterated, "You have to accept
even after seventy years of independence has
that the present government is really praiseworthy
deprived the deserving candidates from entering
as they elect their own leaders according to the
prestigious institutions. Many a time, mob lynching
wishes of the people. Opposition parties help to
is ignored by the police. Instead they themselves
keep a check on the policies and programs of the
join hands with the mafia to get some money
government. Once the party becomes unpopular, a
under the table.
'No - confidence motion' is passed and the party
resigns. The government is run in such a way that Mr. Jones finally agreed with his friend, feeling
it is 'for the people, by the people and of the good he had spoken the harsh truth.
people,' as said by Abraham Lincoln.
A father and his son seated nearby heard most of
Mr. Peters refuted by saying "Sometimes the the conversation. The boy asked, "What kind of
opposition parties are greatly involved in their government do we have, dad?"
internal conflicts and the ruling parties take
advantage of this. Different sections have strikes His father laughed, "Oh, it’s called democracy."
arbitrarily only to serve their own selfish ends.

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Dhirubhai Ambani International School, Mumbai

th
6
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Dhirubhai Ambani International School is a K-12

Ananya Mukerji Co-educational International Day School established in 2003,
Class X with a view to offer world-class educational opportunities. The
School provides a safe and stimulating learning environment,
Dhirubhai Ambani
with state-of-the-art infrastructure and facilities to cater to the
International School
evolving educational needs of children to prepare them for the
Mumbai future and ensure their well-being and holistic development.
Maharashtra Mrs Nita Ambani who is an educationist, philanthropist,
businesswoman and a strong proponent of sports, is the
Founder & Chairperson of the School.

SCENES ON ELECTION DAY

A
n excerpt from the transcript of a live Ranvir: Thank you, dear Rohan! The Supreme Seva
airing of the most reputed Indian politics Party has been preparing for this day for months
TV channel - Zee propaganda on Election with the latest avant-garde never seen before
day in the year 2097. technology! Our scientists have come up with
special blinkers that will be hammered into the
Host: Good morning Ladies and Gentlemen! Today
heads of everyone we can find, to make sure that
is the day that we have all been waiting for - It is
they look straight at our faces on the television set!
Election Day! I am absolutely thrilled to introduce
There is a chip that we will meticulously inset into
our guests for today’s show. Please welcome
the cerebrum in the brain, so that they do nothing
Ranvir Chauhan, representative of the Supreme
but shower us with praise!
Seva Party, Arun Dalal, representative of the
Brilliant Janta party and Jash Singh, representative Arun: Brilliant Ranvir, Simply Brilliant.
of the Adbhut Aadmi Party and of course I am
Jash (looking horrified): What!? I have always
Rohan Bhatt, your host.
known you were all scum… but this? This is
(Sonorous and resounding applause emanates from abhorrent! This is atrocious, terrible, evil (he is lost
the audience)

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for words) This is egregious! Absolutely egregious! Farmer (immediately jumping to his feet): Where
am I? Who are you? Why have you interrupted my
Arun(with a demure smile); Oh Jash. You are so
work? I must go back to the crops.
naive. We must trust Ranvir. The Supreme Seva
knows what is right; they have always done what Ranvir: Quieten down, you peasant! Sit still.
is best for the country.
(The farmer sees the blinkers and microchip in
Ranvir: Exactly! Thank You, Arun. Ranvir’s pale hands as he approached him. The
farmer breaks down in a fit of panic and rage)
Jash: Naïve? You are calling me naïve? Look, I
know that we must try and win as many seats as Farmer: Stay away from me! Stay away! I say.
we can but there is a limit to everything! What will
(Meanwhile the cow continues to chew the grass in
you do if this ends badly? What if your Supreme
its mouth, completely and blissfully oblivious to
party is left in tatters, writhing on the ground?
the events unfolding around him rapidly.)
Ranvir (chucking): I appreciate the concern Jash.
Jash: (Getting up): Stop it Ranvir, you can’t do this.
Why not test it to clear your doubts? I have
brought a sample of the blinkers and the microchip Ranvir: Of course I can.
that can be inserted.
(The host sits in his chair absolutely stunned)
Jash: Test it on whom? Who would be willing to be
(Ranvir uses a big hammer to nail blinkers into the
subjected to this type of torture?
farmer’s head. As he screams, blood drips onto the
Ranvir (Now laughing uncontrollably): Who says opulent, luxurious carpet. A microchip is then
we needed their permission? We will employ a pushed into the back of his head)
time machine.
Farmer (a little dazed and nearly unconscious): I
Jash: First you come up with these horrific ideas bow down to you, Ranvir Chauhan. (His voice is
now you defy the laws of Physics. Ranvir robotic and he can only look straight at him) You
Chauhan, I will never… are my saviour. I will tell everyone to vote for you.
(The time machine takes him back to his village,
(It is too late. There is a loud whirring noise as
where his wife faints upon seeing him. However,
Ranvir presses the button of the time machine. A
the time machine did a perfunctory job as there
poor farmer from 2019 is whisked away from his
was still one unwelcome guest in the room)
field by a blinding kaleidoscope of bright colour
and deafening sound. He is still clutching the rope
tied to the cow’s neck)

“
blood): What are we to do with him?

May your
choices reflect
your Hopes,
“
Ranvir (looking at the cow which was covered in

not your fears.

-Nelson Mandela
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St. Mary’s Convent College, Nainital

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St. Mary’s Convent College, Nainital, perched on the top of a

Avanie Joshi hill, surrounded by serene beauty, overlooking the enchanting
Class X Naini lake was established in 1878 by Mother Salesia Reiner. It
is one of the premier girls’ institutions in the country,
St. Mary’s Convent College administered by the sisters of the Congregation of Jesus.
Nainital Following the footsteps of Mother Mary Ward it encourages
Uttarakhand holistic development in its pupils and gives equal importance
to values, co-curricular activities and academics to ensure that
its students are successful in all spheres of life. Informally
called Ramnee, the much loved institution aims to form
thoroughly educated Indians, whose goal is not only self-
realization but liberation of others’ sufferings.

DEMOCRACY WITHOUT EDUCATION IS NO DEMOCRACY

‘Inseperable’, ‘Best Of Friends’, ‘Soul mates’ were that was to be free and fair forever. Education was
some of the many titles which Democracy and obviously the ‘Best man’. Democracy insisted that
Education as a pair have been bestowed upon with. Education be present to seal Election’s promise.
They have been neighbours and best friends for Education happily agreed.
centuries.
When it came to Education, he chose of course, his
They had played together on a park named ‘Justice’ longtime crush Holistic Development. Election
with their crushes Election and Holistic complimented him that day saying that wherever
Development, respectively. They had gone through he is, Democracy shall always be present. A huge
their lives in each other’s company and they never compliment thought Education; his only wish was
planned to part. After all they had been termed to be with his friend, always.
brothers. They existed side by side and you knew
that they simply couldn’t live without one another. When Education and Holistic Development had
Some even claimed that Education had helped in children, no one was happier than Democracy.
Democracy’s birth. Democracy became Curiosity’s and Learning’s best
Uncle. With time this blossomed into friendship.
Democracy married Election. On their wedding The girls couldn’t survive without their uncle
day, she had even gifted him a promise, strangely Democracy by their side. Curiosity encouraged

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learning. Whenever they went along with their kidnapping Education and taking him into a
parents, Democracy also went along. The house heavily guarded jail called ‘Privilege’ from where it
was always full of pictures of people along with was impossible for him to escape.
the happy family who wished to benefit from their
knowledge. People from the United Kingdom, The Meanwhile Democracy had agony chewing away
United States Of America, along with India to at him. He could never recover truly from the
name a few, invited them over to their countries trauma with Death taking him away.
and they happily accepted Elections too arrived at The next morning, all the countries which had
those places. rejoiced under Democracy and Education were
All was perfect, absolutely perfect. Curiosity and visited by a man, an imposter to be precise,
Learning along with their friend Literacy prepared pretending to be Democracy. Very few could
gifts for Uncle Democracy - little ballot papers and understand that he was Dictatorship. Very few
told people about their wonderful Uncle making could understand that along with Democracy,
him more famous than he already was. Democracy Election too had perished and through her, they
reciprocated this love and wherever he went, could no longer control how they were governed.
people had the urge to meet Education and his Very few could understand that they would not
lovely wife and daughters. This is of course for the have reason to rejoice anymore, to have a chance to
people who hadn’t yet met the family. They were govern them.
by now quite famous and preceded Democracy Education’s family was brutally murdered and
wherever they went. Misery, Poverty and their friend Illiteracy
A single problem in their happy lives was the controlled the State now, by controlling the
hatred that Education’s stepmother Poverty and Dictator.
Misery had for all of them. When Education was The world was driven to darkness, but people lived
born they were ostracized by the society. People on in the illusion that they were still with
went as far as to say that all of them could not Democracy after Education’s death, that the
survive under the same roof. Wherever Education Democracy that they were living with was truly
went they were defeated and could not go there, him.
ever again. Their jealousy drove them into

Democracy cannot succeed

unless those who express
their choice are prepared to
choose wisely. The real
safeguard of democracy,
therefore, is education.

-Franklin D. Roosevelt

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Don Bosco Academy, Patna

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Don Bosco Academy Patna, founded in the year 1973, is an

Arnav Mishra Anglo-Indian, private, unaided, minority institution situated in
Class X the heart of Patna. The Mission at Don Bosco is to nurture
children–to make them enlightened, educated individuals who
Don Bosco Academy are fearlessly articulate, caring and humane; who can seize
Patna every opportunity to learn, seeking to serve not just the
community, but also the nation and the world.
Bihar
Don Bosco has several major strengths-a solid academic
programme, a child-centered approach, a technology driven
curriculum and an unbeatable ambience. The school continues
to build upon its rich legacy of 45 years.

ARE WE HAPPY IN A DEMOCRACY?

I n one of the endless streets on the outskirts of

Mumbai, lay a decrepit school. A school for
hardly fifty students - the entire world seemed
oblivious to its being until that day. It was, of
All the labourers ran up to the voting booth where
as they waited in the queue, a man clad in saffron
served them water. They were astounded, subject
to such treatment only once in every five years. But
course, the election day, the aegis of democracy. Abdul was numb. Numb, to the man, numb to the
crowd, numb to everything except his own
Abdul stood outside the gates of the school in the imbroglio.
sweltering heat. His dirty shirt, one of the only two
he owned, proved no barrier to the scorching As he wiped his brow with his greasy hands,
sunrays. He was drenched in his own perspiration Abdul couldn’t help but sink into the haunted
as he stood amongst the unruly crowd. It was the boulevards of his own memories. Abdul
lunch break in the pencil factory. Along with his remembered his decrepit shack in one of the
fellow workers, he had rushed out only to find a countless slums of Mumbai. Life for him had been
man just outside the gates beckoning to them. difficult, but at least he and his family were alive.
Gathering around a peepal tree, the man swiftly Starving, famished, miserable… yet alive. His wife
forced into their hands a five hundred rupee note had never been alright since their fifth child. The
and showed them his party symbol and said “You untrained government nurses had probably messed
all know what you have to do.”

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up the surgery, he had concluded. His first two party workers of the parties clashed and the media
sons had died in their second month, credits once houses branded it a communal riot.
again to the so – called saviour of the poor.
Then, of course, came another party, exclusively for
His eldest son, into his twentieth year, was already his community. They promised that should they
an alcoholic. He did a few odd jobs and wasted the come to power, they would restore his religion to
money on liquor. His other son ran away when he its past glory and wreak havoc on the other
was thirteen, unable to put with his elder brother’s religions. Throughout the leader’s speech Abdul
torture. His only daughter, twenty – one, had high thought about the Brahmin who lived beside his
hopes but wasn’t able to go college for the lack of hut and prepared food for his family when his wife
money. was too unwell to cook.
A few weeks earlier, his eldest son strutted into All these thoughts surged through his mind as
their house, brandishing in each hand, bottles of Abdul shuffled in the voting queue. He felt like a
branded liquor. His drunk self-cried out praises to piece of timber drifting on the surface of a sea in
the minister’s son who had gifted it to him and the full fury, as he held on with sheer will and
other alcoholics of the slum. A couple of days later, determination. He felt like a crescendo in a world
his daughter barged into the shack, holding a B.Ed. of deafening cacophony, like a kite with its strings
degree. She told everyone in the slum about how cut, a tired human among Greek deities.
the party workers had arranged it for her, on the
condition that she would vote for their party. As he entered the voting booth, Abdul became
Abdul had been approached too. In exchange for aware that somewhere along the its way to the
free food and Rs. 2000 notes, he had attended a present, Indian democracy had lost its way. It was
number of rallies. It was simple actually - he just no longer a government with the power in the
was supposed to wait for the TV cameras and hands of citizens. It was merely a government with
cheer when one approached. What made him sick the power in the hands of people who dictated to
were the speeches at the rallies. the public as a shepherd dictates over his dumb
hapless flock.
First, it had been the saffron party. They had been
appealing to members of his community to vote for Looking down at the EVM, he saw a neat column
them. As the ruling party, they listed their of buttons and party symbols. He thought about
achievements and promised better living the Rs. 500 note in his pocket, his drunkard son, his
conditions and reservation in jobs for their invalid wife, his aspiring daughter, his
community. neighbouring Brahmin and all those political
parties who had slaughtered democracy.
Next had been the opposition party. They blasted
the ruling party for their communalistic ideology Abdul sought the NOTA button and pressed it. For
while in the same breath, asked Abdul and his all he knew, none deserved an honest man’s vote.
community to vote for them. The next day, the For all he knew, democracy didn’t deserve an
honest man’s vote.

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St. George’s College, Mussoorie

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St. George’s College, Mussoorie, is a premier all boys’

Rishi Tiwari boarding school affiliated to the CISCE New Delhi. The school
Class X is managed and run by the society of the brothers of St. Patrick,
India. Spread over 400 acres of pristine landscape, this
St. George’s College
campus is an aesthetic blend of old world buildings and new
Mussoorie state of the art academic, sports and co-curricular
Uttarakhand infrastructure which enable delivery of holistic 21st century
education. The school features on the list of the best schools in
nationwide rankings. St. George’s College holds pride of place
in the hearts of all who have passed through manor house.

ARE WE HAPPY IN A DEMOCRACY?

In a land of a perfectly imperfect government For the value of the word 'true'
Where corrupt politicians never do repent Has been lost for monetary gain.
Where the rich man is hardly content Today, with corrosion of values in me and you,
And the poor is treated with contempt. Society has broken down, reservations are still a
The rules and statutes of governance are bent bane.
The mafia in nexus with men in power never relent About power play, the common man has no clue,
The master has often become the servant Besides the disillusioned young lot has resorted to
brain drain.
With the grass of democracy unkempt.
Believe me, it's a shame to present
The judicial system with its eyes all stern,
The flaws of a democratic government.
Looks out only for the minor crimes.
As in these hapless times,
It's not a pretty story, mind you,
Nabbing the big fraudsters, is what they need to
Just one full of despair and pain. learn.

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One cannot deny that under the hues of orange Men who live in money's pool,
and lime Would treat the poor children like a mule.
Famous entrepreneurs and politicians dine. In big schools, immaculate and beautiful,
They move freely in foreign lands, The rich ensured their child goes to school.
For the politicians no longer deal in nickles and Allow me, ladies and gentlemen,
dime.
To be crushed under the aegis of politics is a tool.
And the courts will overlook the flaws of men so
fine
I can merely watch the antics silently and No longer any girl or woman,
condemn. Is stopped on her way,
Intervening her life, no man would dare say,
The politicians are all corrupt "Why are you dressed in such apparel?"
But the common masses have to accept them with As if it depended on the man and he had the right
glee. to say.
For all that they care is not 'we' but 'I' and 'me'. But female infanticide is still prevalent,
But the people are not to be blamed here, As for most, boys are the only way,
It’s our fault that we face difficulty, When shall there be gender equality
We were the people, blind and naive, Will it ever come at all and be here to stay?
Who invited the terrible predicament which was to
be, The borders have the posting of numerous men,
While the common man face havoc and In services for Air, Navy and Army.
destruction,
Many are deployed for a year or months ten,
In air - conditioned rooms, the leaders are sipping
Never to complain or fall for a barmy.
cups of cinnamon tea.
Do you think that the country remembers them
Those who fight in all seasons, cold or rainy,
Political parties incessantly make propaganda
I sleep in peace not knowing when
Just to exhibit their might
A stray bullet flies in the air
Till the end of my last stanza,
To protect all the citizens of the nation,
I shall analyse what is right.
We have the most efficient army.
In order to have a winner,
We need to have a fair fight.
Ladies and gentlemen, a quick question
So, come along whether you are a priest or sinner,
For people like me would often mention,
And behold in glaring light,
As your answers determine my policy.
The flaws and benefits of democracy
Is our government true or is it a fallacy
In plain black and white.
And before we salute our bureaucracy
Or descend into total idiocrasy,
Little Ram went to attend a big school,
Or question the existence of meritocracy,
The day was nice and the breeze was cool,
Tell me, are we happy in democracy?
The children of the ignorant remained a fool
With child labour, in spite of the government's
rule.

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Wisdom World School, Pune

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Wisdom World School, Wakad was established in 2010 by

Shane Rebelo Vishwakarma Purple Education Trust. Under the dynamic
leadership of its Principal, Ms. Justine Simoes, an educationist
Class X of thirty-nine years, recipient of the prestigious National Award
Wisdom World School to Teachers, 2013 and The Derozio Award, 2016, the objective
of the school is to provide value-based education and develop
Wakad, Pune global citizens and good human beings.
Maharashtra The School motto – Courage, Compassion and Commitment is
strengthened by a Value-based House System, aptly named -
Fortitude, Integrity, Noble, and Prudence.
A wide spectrum of extra-curricular activities and special
emphasis on Communication and English Language Skills are
the hallmarks of Wisdom World School.

DEMOCRACY WITHOUT EDUCATION IS

NO DEMOCRACY

I
am but a cog in the twenty - first century fire that will propel a burgeoning democracy like
machine, an infinitesimal lumen wreathed in a India. It is a veritable force to be reckoned with. It
whirling crescendo of sheer blinding darkness, gives wings to the flightless, a mind to the
a hapless human being without cause and no sight mindless, a heart to the heartless, limbs to the
of a future. My only hope, my only salvation is limitless and a voice to the speechless. Education is
education, without which I have no meaning. and forever shall be, the torch - bearer of
democracy guiding it along a long winding path
Education is arguably the most essential
rife with obstacles finally to reach unfathomable
prerequisite for a smooth functioning democracy. It
heights.
is the composite life of countless people bound
together in the most quintessential manner. In this cruel and utterly unforgiving world, the
Democracy - the voice of the people and the very people need a voice and it is education that
life blood for government is only contingent upon promises this voice that they covet. It is an
education. Education is a spark that ignites minds instrument of the Gods who make themselves
fuels the everlasting fire of curiosity and fosters an manifest through education. It is the very piece the
acute sense of responsibility. It is this spark, this resistance of the Gods which they have bestowed

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upon mankind. It is our duty therefore not just as mankind. This only slackens the eventuality of
a democracy but as creations of the Almighty, to democracy.
utilize this gift with which we have been furnished,
Hark! What is the sound I hear? It is a host of
to the fullest.
educated people returning home after just having
Education is the lighted candle which vanquishes voted. They are relishing the freedom that they
the darkness of ignorance and breathes life into the have been granted by education. They feel a sense
inanimate. It purges the benighted and uncouth of satisfaction and they are fully conscious that
souls of their ignorance and renders them anew, they have contributed to the future of their country
instilling in them a zeal, a drive, to garner even though it may be as small an act as voting.
knowledge. However there are millions of people Thus education has impelled democracy. Education
still in India itself, who pine for this gift but cannot renders democracy effectual. Like a gnarled oak
receive it. This is the very bitter truth of India's tree that has stood the testament of time education
democracy. People continue to languish in shall forever continue to inspire and engender self-
poverty, chained by the fetters of financial sufficient, knowledgeable and farsighted
incapacity failing to realize that education can individuals and it is their education that will see
break them free from the vicious cycle of poverty them and their country rise as gloriously and
and ignorance. Education can and will most majestically as a Phoenix from its ashes. It is
certainly help them attain salvation. However nothing but education which is like a beacon of
people do not know how to use this gift of life and light enlightening and empowering the people to
willingly resign themselves to the bondage of choose the right path of life.

Education is a human right with

immense power to transform.
On its foundation rest the
cornerstones of freedom,
democracy and sustainable
human development.

-Kofi Annan

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Democracy
is
the government
of the people,
by the people,
for the people.
– Abraham Lincoln
 Democracy is an objective.
Democratization is a process.
Democratization serves the cause
of peace because it offers the
possibility of justice and of
progressive change without force.

Boutros Boutros-Ghali
 CITIZEN
CONSTITUENCY
ELECTORATE

PEOPLE
FREEDOM
POLITICAL

CONSTITUTION
CONSTITUTION UNITY FREE & FAIR
PARLIAMENT
DUTIES
DEMOCRACY
PEOPLE

POLITICAL

UNITY
EMPOWERMENT

CONSTITUTION
EQUALITY
CONSTITUTION RIGHTS
PARLIAMENT

REPRESENTATIVE
CITIZEN
FREE & FAIR

UNITY

CONSENSUS
VOTE