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Eleven



First it is the ringing of an alarm,

Pulling me out from my deep, hardly four hour long slumber.

Second is the water,

Incessant on the marble floor and I finally wake up.

Third is the chatter, 

Peers sitting across from each other, 

Showing up and waiting, something we all know too well.

Fourth is the whirring of the bus, a ride we were trying too hard to make interesting.

Fifth is the croak of a toad, 

Hidden under the bed we were all huddled over.

Sixth is the awfully loud pretence,

I can’t say I’ve experienced farming unless standing around in the mud is what it is.

Seventh is the sneeze, 

Catalysed by dust, discharged by my all too privileged nose.

Eighth is the much needed music, 

Emitted by prohibited devices.

Ninth is the gulp of water, 

A commodity to be economic with lest Mother Nature calls.

Tenth is the shiver due to rising temperature, from a body that couldn’t keep up with the strain.

Last is the rude awakening, that these 48 hours are 24/7 for some.

-Aarya Kothari

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