Pretty child...

I just returned from a bit of grocery shopping at the 'kiranmalyacha dukaan' under my apartment. In the usual rumble for change , I picked up an eclair in exchange for my one rupee dime .

I love chocolates so the change was just an excuse to guiltlessly indulge my sweet tooth .As I came out , I, saw a middle aged lady and her little 4 year old on a bike outside , On a sudden whim I walked up to her and offered her the eclair .The lady was taken aback and mildly elated :) and promptly handed over the toffee to her toddler , who was restlessly standing behind the handle of her vehicle .

On receiving the chocolate,the kid glanced at me and smiled . His eyes were so innocent and reflected genuine gratitude and happiness .That smile from a strange kid totally made my day .

The thing about kids is that they don't put forethought in whatever they do . He got the toffee and immediately felt this sudden surge of trust and liking for the giver, regardless of who he/she was, its just this inherent quality of theirs that doesn't over analyse their actions, they feel happy they show it, they're upset, they make a hue and cry of things but make sure their point is across, there's no facade of any kind .

I always feel that as one grows older he becomes tactful and diplomatic, the uncanny demeanor leaves him gradually .Each word spoken is cleverly wrought . Sometimes, as much as I'd like to avoid it , I get sucked in to the whirlpool of this mindset and have to go with the flow, standing apart just pulls you in with greater force .

I wish like the kid, I could be so reflective in the way I think, I try hard not to measure my words and speak, of course it may bite me in the end, if I'm too frank and win me foes instead of friends but I admire people when nice or not , they're an image of their true self.

I'd like my actions to mirror what I think, my expressions , a reflection of the intricacies of my mind , my words should convey just what I feel, thats what I mean when I say I'd like to keep the child alive in me ....

Fergusson..

I really hate leaving my blog idle for long .So many ideas come to my head however, I just don't have the time to put them onto paper or in my case, console.

Nevertheless, here's an old offering. It seems childish, was written five years back, but its my favourite.

All of 15 , I had moved into a new city seeking greener pastures . A new college , a new life , excitement failed to cease and everyday was a new discovery . From a secluded and protected environment I was catapulted into a totally new world full of different people and varied lifestyles ..and boy did I enjoy it !! :D

My college , however claims a special place in my heart ....

Sunday , September 11, 2005

MY FIRST DAY AT FERGUSSON

<>I combed my hair, I brushed my teeth
And ate my breakfast in a sway
I hurled my bag , my arm underneath
And left my house far away .

<>To catch a rickshaw ,I had to jog
I had to make it to college in time
On the street I looked like a panic stricken frog
However , I didn’t care as the day was my prime

<>I reached my class fifteen minutes late
Shamelessly I entered with a sheepish grin
I found a place near my mate
While the teacher tried to quieten the merry din

<>I glanced around to see people sundry
And indeed saw a varied crowd
Bookworms and nerds sat nearby
While the backbenches were ruled by the flashy and proud

<>I saw a boy with long , curly locks
And a girl with red streaked hair
Another lad wore shocking pink socks
I couldn’t help but appallingly stare!

<>The teachers were yet another surprise
Each different from the other as chalk and cheese
One old dame who seemed pretty wise
Had a flower in her plat that made me sneeze !!

<>Some of them did laudably teach
While a few made my fresh brains rot
Others recklessly continued to preach
Seldom practising what they taught

<>The college campus was a sheer delight
I adored the gigantic buildings of the old age
Although the overgrown gardens were quite a sight
It had managed to maintain a regal image

<>The canteen however I tried to evade
It offered nothing I could greedily condiment
On its table soggy sandwiches were laid
Spreading around an abominable scent

<>Fergusson didn’t seem to differ from the rest
It wasn’t astonishingly majestic and divine
Yet I found it better than the best
For the mere reason that it was mine!!!!

For the sake of it...

Have any of you seen laborers near a construction site ? They get daily wages for their work, stacking one brick on top of the other and carrying lumsome amounts of cement,stones, mud and what not on their heads from one place to another. Everyday,their incharge looks into the day's accomplishments and gives them wages, which they use to buy their daily rations.

What happens if the bricks aren't stacked properly on top of each other, what happens if the foundation isn't built correctly, what happens if due to this attitude of getting things done, one day many years later, the building breaks , because of bad construction, bringing in its wake death of simpletons, a loss of money, lots of court cases against the builders, a loss of jobs ?

Who is to blame ? Is it that daily wage earner who for the sake of his job and dismal economical condition ten years back, didn't lay the bricks right, is it the incharge who to wrap up the project fast enough, was lenient and didn't look into the site with care, is it that man who didn't supply authentic material to save costs or maybe pocket some finances, is it the family that chose to choose this house, without thorough research on the quality of work of the builder, or is it those few people who's lives went into jeopardy because a few others didn't do their work right ?

This is just an example. So many times, I find people doing things just for the heck of doing it,because they have to give it in, they have to meet deadlines , they have to impress their heads, they have to prove to the world that they're doing a decent job, because even they know that nobody cares enough to give it a second thought or delve into in deeper, so well, lets take the easy way out of this crisis !

Its just a mindset that I've become immune to seeing now and I HATE it ! There's nothing more than I hate than that ! I really don't care if I accomplish a little lesser than my peers but I need to make sure I'm worth whatever I have accomplished so far !!

How does it matter if the incharge thought the bricks were laid neatly one day, if ten years down the line the building is going to collapse anyway ? Wouldn't it be way better, if the development was slow but of some standard ?

The irony of the situation is , I too have many a times been a part of this sad scenario . This thought came into my mind as for the past few days I've been copy pasting numerous write ups one after the other, so that I can meet the submission deadlines and its not just me , its those numerous engineering students in Indian colleges, that complain about this futile system of journals and files that continues to shroud over their education . I don't even remember what I've written on those numerous pages , in a tizzy with music blaring in my ears, yet I have done them for the sake of it ! The good part is it really doesn't matter in this situation, because no one EVER reads them. They just form a pile in a corner of the laboratory and someone in the next batch, picks one up to help him in his forthcoming submission !

What I don't like here, no one in the authority is even protesting that its a royal waste of time and neither is anyone making it more meaningful. Everyone's just doing their duty for the HECK of it !

How can we ever expect to achieve something if we just don't care enough for it ! I wish people made an effort to at least reason why they're doing something. I wish people made an effort to learn and not complete....

A lil thought ...

Its a paradox that i see,
first it was pangea,
then so many continents broken down into 7 from 3,
a small living bacteria too,
lead to the formation of many races from just two,
then nature's language man began to read,
he separated himself from the rest of the creed,
he said ur green, ur blue and im yellow,
oh how strange it would be to mix and match with the other fellow,
i'll hang around in my end of the spectrum,
and the other colours soon chanted the same anthem,
soon, formed the rainbow a coloured band
and each colour was happy in his own petty land,
they accepted that this was the right way to live,
don't mix or mingle wid the rest in an attempt to take or give,
we'll blossom into a mighty clan of our own,
the seeds of this separation, long before nature had sown,
but they didn't see wid their ignorance a colour that was lost ,
the colour of snow , which heard their chatter as it lay still on the frost ,
i wish you would learn to disobey sometime said he,
i stand peaceful despite having a little of all of you in me ,
oh i know that you've seen things only separate out this far ,
but give this a thought despite it sounding so bizarre ,
i know its not easy to co-exist when you've been apart this long ,
although u cud atleast make a feeble attempt to get along ,
don't shut ur eyes so tight that u can't see how beautiful green is dear blue,
its shade is slightly different but it shines just as radiantly as you do !
there's a slight tendency to stick to the same kind,
but don't shut ur eyes to others , making ur insight so blind ,
we don't need to have one colour that is omnipresent ,
its this contrast thats makes life worth living, of things being so different,
i wish dear colours you would make this an asset not a liabilty,
for once don't concede to segregate and thrive in this variety...

P.S : i normally refrain from using sms lingo wen i write ...ill make this post an exception..m in a bit of a hurry

The place was dimly lit yet it bustled with the vigour and zest of an ongoing festival . The little wooden door was left ajar and onlookers could catch a glimpse of the cozy atmosphere inside as they bustled around with their daily chores .

The place reminded little Prithu of an old weary looking shack , yet he couldn't contain his curiosity to know what lay behind those rustic walls.

Prithu lived with his family in a small one bedroom apartment across this misty looking cottage. He'd never stepped foot in it , rather none of his family had . Despite having a dreary look , he'd heard that the place held some treasures that his clan couldn't buy .

Nevertheless for the past twelve years , he'd always held a fascination for those sundry people that visited it . He wondered, what was it after all that so many people who looked so different found in this place ? Indian men with their lovely dressed ladies wearing classy attire , young boys and girls who seemed to have given their college a miss, unknown foreigners known in his local community as 'hippies' having strange drawings all over their bodies ...and many more fascinating people , he'd been witness to all, entering this tumbledown place . They all looked so smug and often came out carrying big brown bags , which he thought contained savouries from some strange land .

That evening Prithu’s father scurried into the house babbling with excitement. In a flurry he narrated to Prithu how he'd managed to get a job in the little shack in the opposite lane . Finally , thought Prithu , he'd know what happens in there . The innocent concerns of twelve years of his life would find their answers in a jiffy, after all appu would tell him, exciting stories of the place he thought of everyday , maybe if he was a good boy , he'd get to take a glance at what was inside ...

It was time for appu to leave and Prithu blissfully slipped back into his reverie with even more excitement than before , for now he'd soon be a part of it .

At around seven in the evening , a deafening roar awakened the lazy neighbourhood around the shack . Prithu ran out as fast as he could to see what the sudden pandemonium was about .

People everywhere , lying around , crying in desperation , lots of men in uniforms , flashlights had gathered around his mystery shack. The smoke shrouded his eye sight and Prithu became a part of the deadly inferno.

The chant of 'German Bakery has been bombed' echoed all night long . At last , he knew ….

A week ago, I was sitting on the last bench of an extremely boring lecture in class. The teacher was trying her best to teach a management subject, but due to her poor linguistic skills fell short of conveying her point . Then , she posed a question to us , 'Do you never understand what I teach because I'm getting a miserable response, let me know, so then I can change my style' ...

Well, any third person would feel sorry for this dame and label us as a ruthless and indisciplined mob, who care a hoot for a teacher . There's a young lady trying to communicate and we, stand like a united unyielding barrier who just won't relent .

Delving deeper into the issue, the issue I want to raise here is that, we go to college to learn and learning needs to be holistic. How is a class in which a teacher comes into class, displays a few slides, speaks a few sentences in broken english, be remotely interesting .

When such a monotonous class is on, I always put myself in the teacher's shoes and ponder about how I'd teach .. and I somehow find innumerable ways to make the class interesting - a few being discussions, real life situations enacted , a few videos , examples from the current scenario ...

Try and talk about or explain something that students will relate to. Give them something to think about and get practical !!I mean , what use is a bunch of theoretical conclusions if you just can't apply them to life ?

Alas , when she gave me a chance to convey all of this to her , I didn't . Why ? Well, because it would've made no difference . In an ideal world , we would be taught that way and she wouldn't be the one teaching us , it'd be someone who knew the language, someone who didn't just read it off a book , someone who exploited their resources to no end(internet), someone who actually cared enough ......and we are spectators to this method of teaching have slowly started losing hope in our educational institutions .

Give a thought.....

My teachers always told me, close your eyes and ponder about what you imagine yourself to be ten years down the line. Harbouring dreams, of being a broadcast journalist I imagined myself being at the scene of war , maybe somewhere in the middle east, reporting some gruesome activities amidst a lot of confusion and anarchy.

I posed a question to me, why is it that ten years down the line do I still foresee so much violence, have I grown accustomed to it, or is it that I've not seen it any other way for a long time now.

A thought crept into my head, that how tamed our mind is today, to the age of warfare, mistrust, death and deterioration around us . How tuned our routine is to read the morning newspaper and see headlines eliciting carnage. How events like rape,robbery,murder,suicide are just being hyped at and the hoopla surrounding one dies after another one comes by, and how we have smugly adjusted to this cycle.I am baffled at how my definition of the normalcy of life has significantly changed and how I have come to live normally in such abnormal circumstances.