Scratchboard
![](https://assets.api.bookcreator.com/XTfKgcuZpbRgxfMK2Ex66MuVWQx1/books/L1omJSxJSoKNhXZgJRROBQ/assets/1D6oM5PWT-OarrzF3Sn0dQ.jpeg?width=467&height=584&x1=0.1415&y1=0.1405&x2=0.8647&y2=0.818&ow=1224&oh=1632)
![](/_next/static/media/shadow-light.2e386fee.png)
![](/_next/static/media/shadow-brighten.a2a9d200.png)
Loading...
IndexLoading...
Assorted Anonymous Art ~~~ Cover, 4, 9, 13, 14, 17, 22, 26, 27Marukh Rana ~~~ 5
Srihan Adabala ~~~ 6
Kaylah Adam ~~~ 8
Stevie D. Rosenfeld ~~~ 10, 15, 18, 19
Leo Stewart ~~~ 24, 25
Sumaia Khan ~~~ 28
Amani Toribio ~~~ 23, 31
Assorted Anonymous Writing ~~~ 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 40
Loading...
Special Thanks To....Loading...
Club AdvisorMs. Lang
Loading...
Art CoordinatorsMs. Lavelle
Ms. Dimasi-Copolla
Loading...
EditorsKaylah Adam
Stevie D. Rosenfeld
![](https://assets.api.bookcreator.com/XTfKgcuZpbRgxfMK2Ex66MuVWQx1/books/L1omJSxJSoKNhXZgJRROBQ/assets/9zZiXfFAT8aGztd-6Dnksg.jpeg?width=534&height=718&x1=0.2609&y1=0.2148&x2=0.7626&y2=0.721&ow=1224&oh=1632)
4
I Am From
Marukh Rana
Marukh Rana
I am from pomegranate seeds
From flatbread and spices
I am from the melting pot, rich in flavors from around the globe
Vibrant, lively, sometimes loud
I am from jasmine, its delicate petals wafting into evening air
I'm from Eid celebrations and resilience
From Yasmine and Saira
I'm from the love of poetry and storytelling
From “Respect your elders” and “Keep learning”
I'm from Islam, a mosaic of beliefs and cultures intertwined
I'm from New York, with my roots in a nation across the Indus River valley and the second-tallest mountain in the world
Mangos and sugarcane juice
From the courage of a family during Partition
The hard work of an immigrant Father in a new world
Preserved in each braid my Grandma does for me, or each henna design growing on my hands and arms like vines up a tree.
From flatbread and spices
I am from the melting pot, rich in flavors from around the globe
Vibrant, lively, sometimes loud
I am from jasmine, its delicate petals wafting into evening air
I'm from Eid celebrations and resilience
From Yasmine and Saira
I'm from the love of poetry and storytelling
From “Respect your elders” and “Keep learning”
I'm from Islam, a mosaic of beliefs and cultures intertwined
I'm from New York, with my roots in a nation across the Indus River valley and the second-tallest mountain in the world
Mangos and sugarcane juice
From the courage of a family during Partition
The hard work of an immigrant Father in a new world
Preserved in each braid my Grandma does for me, or each henna design growing on my hands and arms like vines up a tree.
5
I Am From
Srihan Adabala
Srihan Adabala
I am from a world where stainless steel tiffin boxes and colorful kolams grace our home,
From cupboards adorned with ancestral portraits and shelves filled with recycled jars of lentils and spices.
I am from the aroma of sambar simmering on the stove, filling the kitchen, from crispy dosas
served with coconut chutney as an evening snack.
I am from stray dogs barking outside a gate at night, while I lay awake, haunted by the tests of tomorrow
and the grades.
I am from the music of Ghantasala, M.S Subbalaxmi, and M.M Keeravani echoing through the halls of our home
during weekend chores that stretch late into the evening.
From the rhythmic swish of the broom as I sweep the veranda, struggling to clear away the fallen
leaves.
I am from the mango tree and jasmine bushes in our backyard, from marigold flowers blooming in
vibrant hues and the neem tree offering shade with its graceful branches.
From cupboards adorned with ancestral portraits and shelves filled with recycled jars of lentils and spices.
I am from the aroma of sambar simmering on the stove, filling the kitchen, from crispy dosas
served with coconut chutney as an evening snack.
I am from stray dogs barking outside a gate at night, while I lay awake, haunted by the tests of tomorrow
and the grades.
I am from the music of Ghantasala, M.S Subbalaxmi, and M.M Keeravani echoing through the halls of our home
during weekend chores that stretch late into the evening.
From the rhythmic swish of the broom as I sweep the veranda, struggling to clear away the fallen
leaves.
I am from the mango tree and jasmine bushes in our backyard, from marigold flowers blooming in
vibrant hues and the neem tree offering shade with its graceful branches.
6
I am from waking up to the Venketeshwara Suprbatham and strolling towards the evening to the rhythm of the Islamic call to prayer.
From villages near Vijayawada and Kakinada, and from bustling Hyderabad,
biryani on Friday nights
and mango pickle on New Year's Eve.
I am from stories of ancestors crossing rivers to reach our homeland, from watering vegetable plants
under the guidance of my grandmother
and playing carrom with cousins.
I am from faded photographs capturing family moments.
Tiny silver anklets passed down through
generations,
gold chains and rings gifted to us from
birth.
I am from the weight of unspoken tensions lingering over the dining table and the promises we made
to keep family secrets buried deep within.
From villages near Vijayawada and Kakinada, and from bustling Hyderabad,
biryani on Friday nights
and mango pickle on New Year's Eve.
I am from stories of ancestors crossing rivers to reach our homeland, from watering vegetable plants
under the guidance of my grandmother
and playing carrom with cousins.
I am from faded photographs capturing family moments.
Tiny silver anklets passed down through
generations,
gold chains and rings gifted to us from
birth.
I am from the weight of unspoken tensions lingering over the dining table and the promises we made
to keep family secrets buried deep within.
7
Flowers
Kaylah Adam
Kaylah Adam
Flowers speedily sprouting now
Chasing melting snow
Upward they climb
Simply, without enough time.
As they run towards the surface,
The snow has found another purpose.
As rain it will now fall, in clouds it will now stall.
Flowers childishly chasing tales
Never to prevail.
Yet still they come and go,
Embracing sun and rain as warm wind blows.
Chasing melting snow
Upward they climb
Simply, without enough time.
As they run towards the surface,
The snow has found another purpose.
As rain it will now fall, in clouds it will now stall.
Flowers childishly chasing tales
Never to prevail.
Yet still they come and go,
Embracing sun and rain as warm wind blows.
8