The Childhood

-Pallavi Krishna Kasala

The games we played when young
Angry neighbour aunty’s face when her doorbell rung

Silly fights we picked on friends
The innumerable toffee spends

Money that got stolen from dad’s pockets
Whiskey bottles to send Diwali rockets

Holidays that got immense joy
Fallen grades only make you cry

Grandparents who pampered you
Fear of ghosts was always true

White polish and black shoes
Running nose, cough and sick day blues

School uniforms, belts, and ties
Catching colourful butterflies

Pretending sick to skip school
Little pranks on April fool

Morning school bus that waited long
Hopping, skipping and singing songs

Running races, bruised hands and legs
Little joys like cracking boiled eggs

Colourful dresses on Birthdays
Waiting for those overdue Sundays

Scribbling through homework to go out and play
Overlooking sun in the summers of May
 
Pink panther, Tom & Jerry, Looney tunes
Missing lunch boxes, forks and spoons

Signing test papers in the morning
Names on board for continuous talking

Contra, Mario, Road Rash and Tekken
Tears that flowed when toys were broken

Waiting for dads last news to get the remote
Running to a friend’s home for missing notes

Countless number of sibling fights
Can you forget those colourful kites?

Hide & seek and the unfortunate denner
Still love the smell of fevicol, petrol and thinner?

Imaginary characters and stories we bake
Can a pastry beat that honey cake?

Giant wheel, dancing cars, and hurricane
The unexplained hatred towards greens and grains

Stones at mangoes and climbing trees
Pelting hives and running from bees

Classroom, boards, and coloured chalks
Early morning blues and invisible socks

The sun didn’t matter nor did the rain
A paper wasted always called for boats and planes

Funny haircuts we couldn’t deny
Bidding a moving friend, a sad goodbye
 
Good or bad, this was our childhood
Did all the things a child should

When we couldn’t tell right from wrong
Though vulnerable still thought strong

Look we can’t go back there again
But that child in us hasn’t complained

Push yourself out and wear that smile
Coz angry aunty’s doorbell hasn’t been rung in a while

3 Responses

  1. Not to be “that guy” but someone’s gotta do it. This is quite poorly written. There are at least half a dozen grammatical errors, the rhyme scheme stops haphazardly, and frankly, the premise isn’t new or thought provoking in the slightest.
    While the effort it takes to put yourself out there and write something is nothing to scoff at; awarding, let’s face it, subpar writing with accolades isn’t the move here.

    Would IWP be so kind as to reveal their scoring process, and who the judges are? Are the judges even credible writers themselves? It seems unlikely to me, but I’d be happy to be proven wrong.

    I do hope this winner continues writing and takes this criticism as constructive. It’s not intended to belittle this, or any effort made in this regard. Having thick skin is a prerequisite if you want to be a writer.

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