A heart full of....

A strong heavy voice announced, "….The best team will receive a trophy."

"I wish madam had not grouped us with Bulbul" Richa whispered folding a yellow craftpaper. Samantha nodded staring Bulbul from the corner of her eye. "Subhash, what are you crafting?" Bulbul asked as she opened her pencil box.

"Bulbul, don't peek" the class teacher interrupted.

Bulbul turned towards Richa and Samantha. "What are we constructing?" Bulbul continued, "Can I help you?" "Yes. You can tear this in equal parts" Richa offered a white chartpaper to her. "Sure" Bulbul's lips widened as she held the chartpaper. She pushed the rubberband towards the upper edge. She then folded the paper. She tried to reach out her hand towards the scisscor. Samantha grabbed the scisscor, "I need the scisscor"

"It's okay… I'll use the scale" Bulbul waved the scale she held.

The edge of the chartpaper turned inwards as Bulbul pulled it. The sound of the tear grabbed Subhash's attention. "Oh no" She unhold the paper and scale taking a step backwards.

Samantha bobbled her head raising her eyebrows, "You are never good at anything" Samantha's words pierced in her heart.

"I am so sorry. But we can fix…." Samantha interrupted her, "Richa and I will fix it. Your help was enough" as she snatched the chartpaper from her hand. Tears filled in her eyes as she overheard Richa saying, "She is so dull and talentless". Bulbul went numb, "She is saying the truth"

Bulbul turned around walking towards empty last bench. Subhash remained a spectator of Richa and Samantha's behaviour. He walked towards Bulbul, "No need to cry Bullu"

"Why am I so clumsy at everything." She wiped tears from her cheeks, "Subhash, tell me why don't I have any talent"

"There is one thing you have but others don't" Subash replied. His words comforted her, "What?"

"Feelings" He replied

Chair

Covered in plastic
she couldn't breathe but
blushed like a bride
finally she met a man
who rested holding her hand
he stretched reaching her breaking point
she was in pain yet didn't complain

she smiled as he worked
comforting her with mere presence
he worked day and night leaving his prints on her
she dreamt her life with him
her soul was filled with love

Then a day arrived
when he packed his bag feeling sulked
he pushed her away
she was scared and confused
would have stopped him only if she could
but then she remembered, she was just a chair

Tolerance Or Ignorance

The knob of the door twisted. A woman appeared as the door swung inside. Saree as a tradition, covered her. Part of plates were tucked in her waist. She stood besides a small bucket with last night's leftovers. Strands of hair slipped from her bun touching her cheeks. Her slippers clapped the floor as she stepped down carefully pulling plates from her waist. A truck was parked i  front of her house on the other side of the divider. She grabbed the bucket and walked towards the truck. She turned the bucket upside down and banged it twice.
On this side of the divider, cars, motorbikes formed a queue waiting for signal to turn green. An 8 year old girl stood near the pole of signal. Her curly untidy light brown hairs were unevenly cut. The dress she wore could fit twice her body. Tires struggled to grip as break was pressed hard stopping the car witb a jerk. The girl moved towards the car knocking the window gently. She stood stretching her palm towards the driver. Even though her palms were empty but her eyes were filled with hope.
She knocked the window again, "Sahab, please give me 5 rs." Her eyebrows were raised as she starred at him. The driver wore a black tux. He was holding the steering wheel. His wrist was ornamented with an expensive watch. His focus was on the signal board; clearly trying to avoid even a glimpse of her. The engines ignited, people started buzzing horns as the signal was about to turn green. The girl stepped forward as the traffic cleared. A five year old boy was standing with sparkling. He looked at her hands, "We wouldn't have suffered if our parents were with us" A drop of tear flowed from the edge of her eye.

Tea bubbled in a cup as the vendor poured from the jug. Three men were sitting near the tea stall. The vendor handed them cups one by one. The person sitting near the stall held passed on the tea holding a newspaper in other hand.

"Country is becoming poor day by day, all because of this bribed government" one said. Others nodded along.

"Golden temple of Calcutta distributed free food to poor all the year. This is their 48th consecutive year" one of them read out loud. "Wow. I am proud of my country", other said playing witb his moustache. The girl walked towards them overhearing their discussion. She stepping near them and said, "Sahab, please give me some money".
"Go from here" their eyebrows popped out making ugly faces. She bravely walked one step closer to them, "Do you really deserve India?"

Eyes

Drops of rain thumped on the roof tops. Clouds bawled their hearts out when lightening stroked them. Preksha stood near the window resting her elbows against the frame. Her eyes witnessed the rain remaining stagnant. Her thoughts were conversed not by her lips but her eyes. Her mother stopped by her. She cleared her throat handing her a cup of coffee. The girl held the cup without moving her eyes off the rain. Her mother blew the vapor off and tasted it.

“What happened dear?” She asked sliding the hand on her head.

“Nothing” she quivered her head looking into her mother’s eyes.

Her mother stretched her hand out of the window till a drop of rain landed on her finger. “Do you know the similarity between your eyes and this rain drop?” she pulled her hand in. “No” Preksha answered taking a sip of coffee.

“It does reflect the world but it can’t hide anything” She looked into her eyes, “Your eyes are like the drops of rain” Preksha laid her head on her shoulder, “I had a fight with Laxmi today”

“Don’t worry. You will be friends again” she rubbed her hand on her arms soothing her. The door bell rang. Her mother kept the cup on the window frame. She unlocked the door welcoming her father. He stood holding a bottle of bear. Her mother held the bottle. Her father walked forward piercing his elbow in her arm. She couldn’t bear the pain and fell on the floor

“What is the matter with you? Why can’t you stop drinking?” Preksha walked towards him in fury.

Her father slapped tightly on her face and stormed in his room shutting the door. She bent down on her knees and wiped the tears from her cheeks.

“I am fine dear” her mother hid the previous scars on her body. 

She hugged her tight, “I have got my eyes from you”