How I Spent My Summer Vacation
Our school broke up for summer vacation a week later than usual this year. I had already chalked out a program to visit Shimla with my uncle. I had never been to thís hill- station. But mysterious are the ways of God. There was something else in store for me.
A few days before the summer vacation, my mother fell ill. This happened all of a sudden. She felt pain in her stomach. She called me. I saw that my mother was growing pale. She looked very much perturbed. I immediately called in the doctor. He told me that it was a case of dehydration. He advised me to take her to the hospital. I acted on his advice.
So I had to cancel all my programs. My dreams of visiting Shimla cashed to the ground. I had to remain in Delhi. I could not leave my mother in such a critical situation. I kept running between hospital and home like a shuttlecock. Besides this, I had to look after my younger brother. Most of my time was taken by cooking and cleaning. All my friends were out of Delhi. I felt quite lonely. In short, I felt quite bored during the summer vacation. So, this is how I spent my summer vacation.
A Street Fight
Street fights are a common sight in India. Very often, they are a storm in a teacup. People fight over trifles and break each other’s heads. A few days back, I was an eye-witness to one such fight in my street.
Last Sunday, I was sitting in my drawing room. I was busy playing cards with my friends. All of a sudden, I heard a loud noise in the street. I peeped through the window and saw a fight in the street. Many people had gathered there. There was much excitement. The crowd was soon divided into two groups. From hot words, they came to blows.
It was a dangerous situation. Just then, a sober person came there. He took courage into bỏth hands and pacified both parties. He spoke to them with some words of wisdom. Had he Dot come in between, the fight would have resulted in something serious. In the meantime, some policemen also arrived on the spot. They dispersed the crowd.
Two children were the cause of the fight. They fell out over a kite. They rained blows at each other. One was badly beaten by the other. He ran crying and weeping to his mother. The other, too, took shelter in the lap of his mother. Their mothers came out into the street and began to hurl worlds of abuse at each other. There was a lot of noise. Their anger knew no bounds. They pounced upon each other like They scratched each other’s faces. The fight took a serious turn. Their supporters also joined them. This was how the fight started.
My Most Fearful Dream
One night I had a heavy meal before going to bed. My belly was full, and I was feeling uncomfortable. There was a gurgling sound in my stomach. I could not sleep well. It was an unsound sleep. As I slept, I had strange dreams. I heard loud cries. There were dacoits. They were robbing everyone. Women wept, children cried, and men groaned. Some people tried to fight them. The dacoits fired at them.
I ran to escape the robbers. They followed me. I ran into a forest. It was pitch dark. I could see nothing. The forest was thick. I was running. I hit against the trees and was caught in the bushes, but still, I could hear the dacoits following me. There were strange jungle noises. It was frightening. I was drenched in sweat. The path through the jungle was full of thorns: My feet bled.
Wild animals came after me. Tigers, lions, bears, wolves, and elephants came after me. I ran, but they were catching on to me. I started climbing. I climbed and climbed, but the elephants, the wolves, and the dacoits all came after me. Then I reached the top and I shouted for help, but none heard me.
I heard the noises coming nearer. I was scared. I looked behind. The animals and the dacoits were all there, just close. The elephant raised its trunk. The tiger raised its paw. I ran but slipped. I fell, down, down, down, cried, and woke up. My mother was shaking me. I thanked God that I was alive. That was my most fearful dream.
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The Most Beautiful Place That I Have Seen | A Visit To The Mughal Gardens
Delhi has become one of the most beautiful cities in the world. It is a city of gardens and parks. Almost every part of the city has a park or a garden. All of them add to the city’s beauty, but the most beautiful of them is the Mughal Gardens in the Rashtrapati Bhawan. Their beauty is ever fresh and new. Although I have already seen them twice, I have a keen desire to see them again. But these gardens are open to the public only for one month in the year, and it is only then that we can visit them.
The Mughal Gardens were laid out by the British, and the layout is similar to that of the Nisbat or Shalimar Mughal Gardens in Srinagar. The grassy lawns are like rich green carpets. The grass is soft like velvet. You will not find bad yellow grass anywhere in the gardens. There is symmetry in the grass plots. The flower beds are a feast of colors. It is impossible to name all the colors and all the flowers. The flowers fill the atmosphere with a sweet fragrance. The flowers are arranged artistically, and the tall cypress trees are geometrically trimmed. There are roses of all colors and varieties.
The fountains and water channels that run across the gardens add to the charm of this floral festival. The visitors are not allowed to sit on the grassy plots. The trees are full of blossoms. There is no dust on the leaves.
My friends and I went slowly, gazing at the multi-colored flowers. There were thousands of visitors enjoying the feast of colors and form. There were many foreigners among the visitors. We spent more than two hours in the gardens, and I wouldn’t say I liked to come out of the gardens.
It is the most beautiful place that I have seen. It always haunts my mind, and often I feel like Wordsworth, who says,
“Often, when on my couch, I lie
In vacant or in a pensive mood
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude
And then my heart with pleasure fills
And dances with the daffodils.
My heart also dances with the flowers when I recollect the beautiful scene of the Mughal Gardens”.
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