1000 years old, still

being a living statue:


the Wicked Step Queen.

Through the dust, my mind still recites alphabets to the wind.
I wanted to learn every syllable I needed,
Every matrix that could build up ideas,
Every algebra I was born to solve.

Where I grew is the bedrock of ignorance.
The belief is that foreign knowledge will erase our heritage—
But it doesn’t.

I can solve many X's in my head,
But there’s not a single grain from my mother’s farm
I won’t multiply with immense profit.

The calculus I carry stands a chance at winning,
Yet I still crave the kind of knowledge
That builds roads, draws out buildings,
And makes every waiting child
Become another epitome of wisdom.

I just need a chance to prove I’m worth every trial.
I can face competitions meant to break me down.
And I will rise—
Because no one is born with knowledge.
We all grow to learn.

शाळेच्या पहिल्या दिवशी न्हवती अक्कल
लावता येत न्हवते साधे चड्डीचे बक्कल
तरी निघालो शाळेला वयाच्या तिसऱ्या वर्षानंतर
हातात बाटली, खिशात रुमाल, आणि पाठीवर दप्तर

शाळेत अनेक गोष्टी शिकलो
इंग्रजीतली ABCD शंभरदा घोकलो
मार्क्स मात्र सर्वांना हवे होते पुरे
रट्टा मारून केलेल्या अभ्यासाने मेंदू मात्र कोरे

दिवस गेले, महिने गेले, गेली खूप वर्षं
दहावी आली हे कळताच गेला जेवणातील सर्व हर्ष
दहावीबद्दल घातली सर्वांनी मनात भीती
घरचे म्हणाले, "अभ्यास कर, आपली नाही शेती"

अभ्यास केला दिवस आणि रात्र
MARKS च्या नादात विसरलो सारे मित्र
सोडवले प्रॅक्टिस पेपर्स आणि लिहिलेली जर्नल्स सर्व
अभ्यास पूर्ण झाल्याचा मात्र अजिबात नव्हता गर्व

परीक्षा दिली, RESULT आला
सर्व मित्रांना फोन केला
मार्क्स मला चांगले पडलेले
CONGRATS च्या मेसेजने सर्व CHATS भरलेले

मार्क्स चांगले मिळाल्याने चांगल्या कॉलेजमध्ये झाली ADMISSION
कोणी IAS तर कोणी ठेवलेलं ENGINEERING चं VISION
कॉलेजच्या पहिल्या दिवशी वाटलं की आपल्या कडे होती खूप सारी अक्कल
कारण माझेच मी लावलेले माझ्या चड्डीचे बक्कल...

They call it a temple of knowledge and thought,
A place where young minds are carefully taught.
But what is the lesson? What is the rule?
That learning doesn’t happen at my school.

The classroom’s a stage, the script is rehearsed,
Yet passion is absent—just boredom dispersed.
The teacher recites, but they barely engage,
Tenure protects them, and they never must change.

I ask, Why do I need to memorize this?
They smirk and respond, Because it’s on the quiz.
Centuries of knowledge forced into my head,
But not a **** skill for the life I will tread.

They pile on homework, assignments unceasing,
Stealing my time; my patience decreasing.
It teaches me nothing but how to endure,
A childhood lost—stolen, for sure

They claim to be guides, but barely take part,
More focused on grading than igniting a spark.
If I miss one step, if I fail one test,
I’m labeled as lazy, as less than the best.

Straight A’s mean success, so I play their game,
But knowledge? Oh, no—that's not why I came.
I memorize, cram, then let it all go,
The second the test ends? ****...

I don’t know.

They call us the future, yet chain us to past,
Force us through molds, though none of us last.
We learn to obey, to raise our hand high,
To follow directions— but to never ask why?

For school isn’t built for learners like me,
It’s made for compliance, for mindless decree.
I’m forced to sit here and play through my role
Because learning simply doesn’t happen at my school.

Time is out,

Tomorrow watches me - I look back,
Building a chair in anticipation of my arrival It whispers to me,
“You’ll never be ready”

I blame myself,
The silence that filled moments,
Times I should’ve listened
To the effort that was screaming to be,

A knife i stuck in my own back,
The knife I placed there
The knife that I wanted to be the reason I failed?

Did I ever want to succeed?

Did I avoid trying so I had more to blame than just not being able to cut it?

I don’t try, I don’t succeed.
What… do I expect of me?

When moments of need
Moments in which I should’ve done more,
I stood still.
Contemplating a life that I’m not fighting for-

And now it’s too late,
Time is short— what-else is left,
But to now sit in thought,
Alone with the understanding,

That I did this.
I hurt myself.
I deserve the failure that will consume me.

Was time too short,
Or did I just ignore it.

Finish your nearly dead, full of
stress phase of an education
And when you are still alive
after this non-stop narration

Become a chained slave
Strangle yourself with work
Replaceable product, undervalued
because your boss is a dork

Hunt the treasure of lies
Russian roulette of dates
Hate is bigger than love
Still seen as soulmates

Lose yourself to the sheets
the day you marry someone
Pray to god, when your lover
dances with his handgun

Pictures of families with masks
to hide the black dark shadows
Don’t untwist your tongue
when the pain only grows

Start and raise a family
with kids you absolutely hate
Because, it doesn’t matter
when this is your fate

Temple of Artemis;
Steal the cheese,
But remember
It isn't free!
For Artemis is always hunting!
Hunger.
But who puts out the dairy?
Wisdom.

For the kid who doesn't
Feel the need to thieve.
For the outsider of the pack;
For who wanders back
Carrying foodstuffs
They foraged,
They collected.

This is a leader.

"For why did you not steal, coward?!"
"I am not cowardly."
"Not fit then, lackey!?"
"I can lift, I can run."
"Then what was it?"
"The others couldn't."
"Your kind then, eh?!
You're kind then, eh!?"
"I'm good
As long as 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥."

It is for the stranger of the temple
Who is no stranger to the temple!

One who cares for the altars, one & all.

When did children lose their love of learning?

When they were told to conform,
To forget their being,
To discard interests, agency, creativity

My own complicity
In the stifling of identity

Authenticity, a digression of the self,
A dissolution of swarming
Complexities

When did I gain my love of learning?

The burning crucible
Of curiosity

Set aflame by rejection of conformity

Constraints, curriculum, crushing expectations
and a world disintegrating
fires of digressions

When is conformity an expression of authenticity?

When is authenticity just another form of conformity?

An owl in a tree
whose spirit reaches beyond
everything we know

is unjustly shot
down to the summer forest
floor, flanked by flowers.

And so I ask you:
who was the one who shot it?
...