I'm Sanira, an 11th Grader residing in Bangladesh.
Time erases memories of worries, for time ends up pausing your wars eventually. Although not always precisely the way one wishes like, that depending on their efforts, time surely either eases the external factors of the battle or reduces the fear and pressure applied from the inside. When one is caught up in the moment of pressure, they often spend so much effort thinking, that the solution, visible to a soul less afraid, hides itself—and lazy souls, unwilling to put the tremendous effort needed on soothing the one in distress, despite carrying all the experience required, fail to help them. Taking a step back every now and then in all lives lived is the solution when tasks seem to be too difficult for yourself compared to others in similar position. Perspective brings clarity.
And here is one of my political writings:
The majority of misogynists, if not all, think the intelligence of a woman is an exception, and so is the foolishness and illiteracy of a man. Hypocrites. I approach my reality from a full one-hundred-and-eighty degrees, always have. An average woman is as capable of intelligence, ambition and talents as a man. Some woman right now, trapped in a rural area, or an abusive marriage, or inside a kitchen, or in a cruel ritual, a brothel, before her husbands' feet, under a veil of dignity and honor for her family, or in any discriminating societal norm for that matter, might have had the capability of becoming an Albert Einstein or a Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. She could've built the first plane, written the best-selling book, painted a tear-jerking portrait. Instead, she is expected to split her spines over the most average chores of the household that every man, woman or non-binary should be in charge of. She does it all by herself and for the longest of her life expectancy, she repeats the same struggles every morning. The men won't believe it when I say that it empties her. It drains her potential, it dulls her intellect, it strips her of her rights for critical thinking over significant subjects around the world. Politics, arts, crimes, science, current affairs, sports—at one point, she lets go of the existential vitality of the human mind, wonder. That is what I call labour.
Here is a bit of the Novel I'm working on:
George often wandered the hallways at midnight—frequently spotted by a sneaky Amara. She had theorised that it couldn’t have been sleepwalking because sleepwalkers are believed to be weak in problem-solving, planning and judging. For the years they lived simultaneously in St. Havenson, Amara knew that couldn’t have been the case at all. Her theory suggested it was either an exorbitant while of loo breaks or simply, a midnight urge to read—just like what happened to Amara one-third of her nights.
The staff members knew George for his brilliance in his academics and his searing knowledge of almost every subject. Consistently, George excelled in every subject he had taken for the past four years due to his devotion to every paperback in the school library and whatever he could lay his hands on.
One might expect such a reader to be a complete unknown socially, but he matched the social beauty standards too well for his trials of hiding behind books to be a success. Amara always saw him around; at the yard, at the Canteen, in the Cathedral—though they didn't talk much, she thought of him as one of her own because he always carried a paperback.
And here is a piece of a short story by me:
Hooked beak, sharp talons; a triple extra large-sized falcon flew down at her balcony. It landed. She felt a sense of pride for guessing birds correctly, though they were told otherwise about the size of a falcon in school. On top of it sat, most probably, a man. Daisy had an illusion that even if the falcon were regular-sized, the man would've fit right on the top of it.
The top hat man audibly exhaled and shared looks with Daisy. 'Do me a favour, kid.' a rush of professionalism in his voice. He looked at a little memo pad in his hand. 'Ms.... Daisy, is that your name?'
I also have a history of shining in non-fictional writing work.
