Sneha Jain, Class X F
Everyone sat huddled together in the darkness as Shankar started taking stock of the situation. ‘We’ve got a few apples as food and it’s about -4 degrees Centigrade outside. We’re trapped in the basement and mum isn’t going to be back before 7 AM – that’s seven hours from now. We’ve got one flashlight and no other electrical appliance. Anything to add?’
Ram raised his hand in the darkness, ‘Yeah, this is all Kartik’s fault.’
‘My fault!’ Kartik yelled defensively, ‘Priya was the one who suggested we go artifact hunting.’
Shankar moaned, ‘You’re all hopeless,’ as they all started bickering. ‘Alright people,’ he yelled to catch their attention, ‘I’m pretty sure none of us will escape alive if we just wait here for mom, considering how moronic you three are.’
‘Hey!’
‘So, let’s find something sharp and cut the door open.’
It was the best and only idea that had struck any of them and so cautiously, they began to search in the dim light.
About half an hour passed with little progress. Priya had got side-tracked when she had found an old table football set and Ram and Kartik were taking turns to sit on the old rocking chair. Shankar was, as usual, working up a heart attack, yelling and acting the leader he believed himself to be. Priya had suggested trying to pry the door open but he refused to listen to her.
All activity ceased when they heard the sound of the front door creaking open. They could hear footsteps approaching.
‘Mom must be back early! We’re lucky.’
The door squeaked open. Happiness erupted in the group.
‘How did you manage to open it, mum?’ asked Shankar, bubbling with joy.
With wry amusement glinting in her eyes, she replied, ‘I pulled the door sweetheart. I guess that didn’t quite strike you! This door opens outside!’
Fear of Flying
Sneha Jain, Class X F
When I was younger, I used to be afraid of flying in an aeroplane. It wasn’t a fear I had from the start; my family flew relatively frequently – once or twice a year. So, I was accustomed enough to sitting in a flight to not start bawling at the mere thought.
Then, when I was probably six or seven, I watched this programme about plane crashes, which was quite gruesome for a little girl. Unfortunately, we had a flight the following week and the fear of crashing kept flooding my thoughts. I didn’t leave my mother’s hand throughout the flight.
In retrospect, it was quite silly of me and when I told my father about it, he laughed and said that plane crashes were freak incidents and relatively rare, especially when compared to accidents on land or at sea. I realized this myself and am no longer afraid of aeroplane rides.
