Kishan Baskaran
Stories (22/0)
The Elusive Dragon
Instilling absolute fear and disgust, bugs are not what people gravitate towards when talking about the beauty of nature. However, for as long as I can remember, bugs have fascinated me. Their speed, their sounds, their colours – Incredibly frustrating to capture, but charming to observe. I spent my childhood summer days roaming the community garden studying all the critters I could find. Ants were everywhere, pouring out of the entrances they dug into the ground. Grasshoppers jumping great distances to show-off their powerful legs. It surprised me the first time I saw a grasshopper fly. I just found it so cool and unfair that not only did they have the ability to quickly jump but could also experience new heights flying short distances. Watching the bees travel from flower to flower was enchanting, but also scary because I wanted to avoid their stinger at all costs. The buzzing of flies and the chirps of crickets deafened my thoughts. And mosquitoes seemed to never leave me alone. The wilderness within that garden and any of the trails I explored showed me how diverse and colourful critters could be.
By Kishan Baskaran3 years ago in Earth
My Mother Taught Me How to Read ...
My mother taught me simply how to read the world. Whispers in the wind and screams from the sun went unheard to all except the perceptive ears of my mother, the perpetual listener. Forever focused on everything but herself, my mother embodies nature’s own parent; minding the precarious growth of the ignorant and naïve from behind a proverbial curtain of humility. Who was I, other than the bundle of cells my mother gave identity to with nothing but love and sacrifice? Who am I, other than the product of generations upon generations of mothers’ work concentrated into one selfish, easily-distracted, and technologically addled lump? In understanding my path ahead and recognizing my gifts of today, it is truly my mother who taught me to read the past.
By Kishan Baskaran3 years ago in Families
Unravelling the Thread
Cloaked in thread expertly spun by the robotic movements of calloused hands, I window shop the latest fashion trends through my browser. Obsessing over the articles of clothing and an uncontrollable need for instant gratification has created an environment for fast fashion to thrive… at the cost of the environment.
By Kishan Baskaran3 years ago in Earth
Cleaning the Ego With the Fight Against Littering
It’s never been cooler to be focused on being clean, and those who create the wave are often less noticed than those who choose to run on it. While the planet spins at ridiculous speeds through an unforgiving cosmos, we are caught trying our best to stand still, take pause, and enjoy the moment. Unfortunately, in our efforts to do this, we forget about our spherical creator and the accumulation of trash the human race has dumped across Earth.
By Kishan Baskaran3 years ago in Earth
My Moment in the Limelight
The Year at Hand … 2004. I was 16 years old. I was in grade 10. This was my second year of private school. I was surrounded by rich folks. Asian. White. Black. Brown. Everyone you could think of. They all had money and came from a wealthy background. The only traits I shared with them was that I am brown and I was there for an education, without my consent. Wealth or no wealth, barely scraping through the bills and sometimes living on money we didn’t have. That would not limit my education. But everything else in life the dollar saw an effect. One pair of sneakers a year, if lucky. The next one came when they fell apart! Clothes were hand-me downs from my two older brothers. A fashion sense was irrelevant and not even possible.
By Kishan Baskaran3 years ago in Styled
Memento Vivere
Telling herself that the black dress would be slimming enough, Elaine proceeded to shovel a granola bar into her mouth as she stomped through her apartment, kicking heels to the floor, and expertly flinging her tote to the nearby chaise. Friday evening could not have come soon enough, and having finished a double shift with no break, Elaine could not silence a rumbling gut. As she swallowed the last morsel of a dark chocolate with quinoa cluster that probably should have been called a pebble instead, an ominous buzz rattled the chaise.
By Kishan Baskaran3 years ago in Humans