Latest Scribbles
Who am I?
Welcome to my world of words! I am Anaya Sheth. I am 12 and currently in 6th grade. I am writing since the age of 6. I love reading and (you guessed it!) writing. I want to be known worldwide for my writing one day.
A place of despair,
Devoid of hope,
Always war-ridden –
Physically or mentally.
Have we finished it off?
Is there still a ray of light?
Darkness.
More Darkness.
A silent noise always lingers—
One no one seems to hear.
Yet everyone hears the cries,
The echoing scream for help.
Why?
Why?
Why?
There are a million whys to answer.
It’s your duty in life to resolve at least one.
Do what you can.
The world needs you.
– ANAYA SHETH
In a bustling big city, there lived a small bird,
Exquisite, rosy, but with eyes filled with the sorrows of the world.
He feared this world unkind,
Scared of us, the cruel mankind.
You see, the bird had witnessed that before,
Many of its friends were captured, free no more,
The little bird’s heart and soul belonged in the sky,
And the thought of a cage made it cry.
It dreamt to touch the stars one day,
But would it have the courage to fight?
One day, the cruel men came,
Trapping the bird, ignoring its pain.
The poor bird was now in a cage,
Its eyes filled with tears and rage,
Heartbroken, lost in this world unfair,
A victim of humans who didn’t care.
This bird isn’t the only one,
there are many such in this world.
How would we feel if trapped behind the doors?
Caging for our pleasure—are we nothing more?
– ANAYA SHETH
Crisp golden leaves touch the ground
For the very first time
Experiencing the moist soil and soft grass
All year long, they have clung
To their mother’s embrace
Now they stand independent
Having bloomed in beauty through the passage of time
And now it’s time to wither
Even though they still feel like young ones
They’ve made their mother look gorgeous
Always
Now it’s time to leave her
But what’s a tree without her leaves?
Lonely.
Like a writer without words
A chef without food
Like themselves
It’s a season of change
Nothing stays the same forever
They’ve witnessed beauty, despair
Is that all life has to offer?
They wonder
No, there’s much more
And then there’s death.
-ANAYA SHETH
‘’Here you go!’’ my mother cried triumphantly. She had bought me a new pink frilly gown the day before at the ‘Clothes Galore!’ shop. I looked a fool in it.
‘’Go, show Daddy,’’ Mum coaxed. I stamped out of the room and climbed up the stairs to Daddy’s office. The help’s daughter was sweeping the floor, her bushy hair covering her face like a veil as she worked. She heard my footsteps and looked up. She noticed my horrible gown. Silent and invisible tears filled up her eyes. I looked away sharpish and ran away. When I reached far enough, I stopped to catch my breath. I had seen the faint look of injustice and anguish in her seemingly blank and feelingless eyes. After seeing that look, I had one question, or was it a thousand questions? WHY? Why were some people just born poor and not given an opportunity to showcase their talent merely for the fact that their fathers and mothers and grandfathers and grandmothers and so on didn’t have enough? Why couldn’t illiterate people, after the difficulties they had to face, understand the importance of education, which would save their kids from menial work? And why couldn’t we bring a change to this? I ran to my room, grabbed my laptop, and started making a poster. After completing it, I printed it. It had ‘Educate’ written on it.
I rushed to the help. I could make a change.
-ANAYA SHETH
DREAMS IN SCRIBBLES 