One Day One World

What can I say about Bury, my hometown? Well, there’s a lot of things, not all of them good .The patter of near constant drizzle is almost always present; The terrace houses; he huge Millgate shopping centre; our ‘world’ famous market with the black puddings that made it so well known . Fair enough it’s not the hottest place or the most sophisticated, but it’s my home, where my friends are and my horses. My world.

The snow glitters and the ice gleams in the winter sunlight, streaming down upon the snow creating contrast, mini mountains on the floor. The ice is treacherous- hooves and boots go skidding.  The flowers are long since wilted and lie under the winter blanket dormant till the spring sunshine warms their heart.

Hooves thunder around the frozen arena. An inviting warm glow emanates from the cattery. Golden eyes peer out.  Soft padded paws against the window trying to catch us. Sleepy eyes stare dreamily not really seeing us. Water droplets fall from hanging baskets like tear drops from the eye.

Soft velvety pink muzzles appear over the door and eyes sparkle at the thought of food. The fields are pure white with only the occasional prints to impede upon on the pure beauty. Ancient trees overhang the field creating shadows.

The sound of laughter carries over the stables and the stable cat pauses from its post on Salvador’s door and lifts his head listening intently. He elegantly pads over the doors like a gymnast. The horses whinny excitedly to each other. The dog leaps frantically watching the cat’s every move; they size each other up like boxers before entering the ring.  Then the dog decides to give up; the cat victorious starts to purr he knows he’s won. This is my town. My world.

Sonu Boora's description -JNV Bhiwani

As ever…….

My life in hostel has nothing significant but it does give me a deep insight into life. Here calmness is the most precious thing I got and it made me a grave human being indeed. No hurry like city people I feel like nature child of William Wordsworth developing into a reserved, sober, elegant being.

Tall trees are standing all around waving their arms and inviting me. I see them and a feeling of gratitude emerges in me unnoticed. My class-fellows laughing as ever are a motivation to me. Though not with parents I never feel lonely. The busy schedule, the worries of everyday life are of course here too but still everything passes over silently. Seven years of stay pass away unnoticed. I see the agony of class-XIIth students who are going to leave the School in next few days. They are seen looking at trees, surroundings wistfully. Lost in thoughts they are reluctant to leave campus. But they have to, the reality is harsh. They spent 7 years here so got attached to every being and seldom they will get chance to visit again. I am reminded of the alumni day when ex-students of our School visited. Some of them came from abroad and shared their experiences with us. How they miss good old days and their friend circle and so on. I then notice some of the unhappy beings here who ever feel homesick. No use telling them that this place will soon become memorable past. Let’s cherish good, sweet memories and progress ahead. But such is human nature always looking to past and ignoring present and near future. Time is the perfect teacher to train every being.

Really it’s a Heaven, a place peaceful, with natural surroundings. Why not to live fully every moment? I have determined not to be sorry later. I will make every moment of my life of any worth. I have to go ahead leaving my little footsteps’ imprint on the sand of time. May God help me realize my aim.

                                                             Sonu Boora

One day, one world.

Simone Smith

The hustle and bustle of the city life becomes more familiar everyday. The department stores shadow each other, making the surroundings dingy but the neon signs attempt to form light. Numbers of cars and buses pass through everyday, many commuters and of course the tourists. There’s never a day goes by without hearing at least 3 different languages or accents. From Irish to Brazilian, Scottish to Japanese and of course the real deal - Mancunian. The buzz from the crowds as you walk up Market Street makes the atmosphere electric.

A drifting smell of fresh coffee emerging from Starbucks sits in the hands of rosy cheeked people, take-away cup in one hand and a tissue in the other. The bitter chill of the wind and the race to get your umbrella up in time can only be the infamous British weather. The grey tops of the tall offices, shops and apartments are weaved with air vents and spattered with flecks of rain. The expensive glass windows are filled with mannequins dressed in brand new clothes.

A worn, weathered building sat on its own with the name ‘Printworks’ plastered across it. This was once home to the Manchester Guardian newspaper. The Printworks was the central printer of the North-West newspapers and one of the buildings which led to the build up of factories at the time of the Industrial Revolution. It was once a debatable topic whether to demolish it or not. However, it’s now full of pubs and clubs and for some people the home to a perfect night out on the town. Despite this many do not know the historical context of this building and why it was so important to the city of Manchester.

Opposite the Printworks stands a tall glass building, famously known as the Urbis. It is home to ‘Channel Manchester’, a TV station, and displays exhibitions of cities all over the world, from New York to Tokyo and sometimes the growing history of Manchester. The name Urbis relates to the museum’s general interest in urban life.

This picture itself is taken from a tourist attraction - The Manchester Eye. It’s a large metal structure forming a wheel which resembles an eye. It has individual glass cubicles attached to it which you can sit in.

Manchester – such a built up city, crammed with so many people . . . This is my home, my city, my world.