i wrote this a really really long time ago, it's an extract from one of my stories, one of the many i didn't finish. maybe you should know, my stories are sometimes just diary entries written in third person...so i write them to just have the simple pleasure and relief of writing, and, fortunately or unfortunately, making sense is not one of the requirements. i found this in an old notebook and i think it stirred something in me, so i thought i'd put it up. the rest of the story is probably lost. this is it.
lots of love, apoorva
Her vision went fuzzy. Tottenham Court Road! Tottenham Court Road? That was where they were going? Suddenly she forgot what she was doing. What did they need to go to Tottenham Court Road for? Why was her mother coming? She knew the way to Tottenham Court Road. She could roll there with her eyes closed. Nobody needed to go with her. But why was she going? She didn't need to go. What was so special about Tottenham Court Road? There was nothing there. Nothing different about it from any other road. Except that she could look fixedly at her feet or even shut her eyes throughout the entire ride and still feel it in her bones when they reached it. Why? She stumbled out of the car, following her mother robotically. What were they doing here? She didn't want to be here. Why was everyone always trying to bring her here? She felt like she could hear her own heartbeat, and also that of every person around her. Could you differentiate heartbeats? Did everyone have a distinctive one? Whose was she hearing? Whose was she listening for?
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Holidays..
Holidays! Some relaxation after exams! I screamed in excitement that our end semester exams finally got over. I went to the "Cafe Coffee Day" opposite our college, with my best friend. I had a wonderful chocolate coffee and she had a yummy plain chocolate chip muffin with vanilla ice-cream. I returned home and I sat back relieved, watching a show called "Ishaan", because it had this really melodious song. This is the show, by the way, in which one of our guest lecturers, Mrs. Ruby Chakravarthi has acted.
I went shopping that evening with my mother for a wonderful stole, two cute mini diaries and a big 5-subject one for the next semester. I didn't want to do a last-minute shopping for the 2nd semester. I came back home and I went to my room. I sat there, staring at my desktop and my modem and my fingers were itching to switch them on, so I did. I went on the site to which most of my friends know I am addicted - facebook. I played a few games to let time pass as quickly as it could. Then I was bored and so, I started styling my hair in front of the mirror. Then I got even bored so I stepped into my parent's room where my mother was watching tv and I sat beside her. Usually I find programs that I watch with her, more interesting than when I watch them alone. And so it was very interesting. I got to discuss some personal things with her. It was a pleasant mother-daughter time. My brother was playing with his friends, so there wasn't anybody to interrupt us. Later on, I went to sleep.
Then on Sunday, my entire family was free and we took off to Mantri mall and enjoyed the feasts there. We also went for a little shopping - you know, on-the-spot. Ah! It was amazing! Since my future plans are to become an architect, the architecture of the mall fascinated me. I enjoyed it a lot. Then we went back home.
On Monday, we went to Hosur to shop for crackers, for diwali. I don't like crackers; they were for my brother. I simply sat in my car with my dog in the back seat, all alone, text messaging one of my old friends. He had just woken up when I did. Then from there, we decided to visit my dog's birth place. Unfortunately, his mother, Nancy, had been given off to someone by the owners as they couldn't handle her. But surprisingly, my dog recognized the place! And he was only 3 months when he left that house, to come live with us!
Tuesday was nothing great. I just waited till the evening so I could go for an hour of golf practice session. It was not all that great. Since I didn't go for 2 weeks, I lost my swing in the air. The balls neither went to high, nor too far, nor straight. I was disappointed. Later on, I decided to work on facebook again. Nobody was online, so I just played a game and started writing songs. And now I have a complete collection of 14 of my own songs!
Next day, holiday? Well, not exactly for the WMAs. We practiced throughout the morning and had loads of fun. At least we got to meet our group friends! Later part of the day was dull for me. I didn't have anything to do. So this is exactly why I thought I'd post something here.
You know, I really didn't think my holidays would be this boring. I want college to start soon and I wish I could meet my best friend, even before that. I miss her.
~ Madhuvanthi
I went shopping that evening with my mother for a wonderful stole, two cute mini diaries and a big 5-subject one for the next semester. I didn't want to do a last-minute shopping for the 2nd semester. I came back home and I went to my room. I sat there, staring at my desktop and my modem and my fingers were itching to switch them on, so I did. I went on the site to which most of my friends know I am addicted - facebook. I played a few games to let time pass as quickly as it could. Then I was bored and so, I started styling my hair in front of the mirror. Then I got even bored so I stepped into my parent's room where my mother was watching tv and I sat beside her. Usually I find programs that I watch with her, more interesting than when I watch them alone. And so it was very interesting. I got to discuss some personal things with her. It was a pleasant mother-daughter time. My brother was playing with his friends, so there wasn't anybody to interrupt us. Later on, I went to sleep.
Then on Sunday, my entire family was free and we took off to Mantri mall and enjoyed the feasts there. We also went for a little shopping - you know, on-the-spot. Ah! It was amazing! Since my future plans are to become an architect, the architecture of the mall fascinated me. I enjoyed it a lot. Then we went back home.
On Monday, we went to Hosur to shop for crackers, for diwali. I don't like crackers; they were for my brother. I simply sat in my car with my dog in the back seat, all alone, text messaging one of my old friends. He had just woken up when I did. Then from there, we decided to visit my dog's birth place. Unfortunately, his mother, Nancy, had been given off to someone by the owners as they couldn't handle her. But surprisingly, my dog recognized the place! And he was only 3 months when he left that house, to come live with us!
Tuesday was nothing great. I just waited till the evening so I could go for an hour of golf practice session. It was not all that great. Since I didn't go for 2 weeks, I lost my swing in the air. The balls neither went to high, nor too far, nor straight. I was disappointed. Later on, I decided to work on facebook again. Nobody was online, so I just played a game and started writing songs. And now I have a complete collection of 14 of my own songs!
Next day, holiday? Well, not exactly for the WMAs. We practiced throughout the morning and had loads of fun. At least we got to meet our group friends! Later part of the day was dull for me. I didn't have anything to do. So this is exactly why I thought I'd post something here.
You know, I really didn't think my holidays would be this boring. I want college to start soon and I wish I could meet my best friend, even before that. I miss her.
~ Madhuvanthi
Sunday, October 31, 2010
She laughed and Seema smiled, her parents frowned. Disapproval nearly suffocated them but they endured it all in good grace. It would be over soon. The final call for the Canada bound flight came and her mother pulled her side. “Just tell me where I went wrong,” her mother pleaded, “We could still go back home and forget everything…all of this.” She pulled away disgusted. “Mum, don’t make me question calling you ever once I get there,” she threatened, but softened as tears filled the older woman’s eyes. “I love Seema and I cannot be happy without her,” she repeated for what seemed like the hundredth time and reminded herself that at least her parents had not shut the door in her face like Seema’s and for that she had to be grateful. She now held back tears as she thought of all the fond memories she had shared with her mother, her father, her Bangalore. She walked away from her parents and held Seema’s hand. Seema gave her hand a tight squeeze, she understood as she always had. They walked to the flight together, still holding hands.
-Shruthi
Why I can't write
When I watch a movie, read a book, listen to a song on the radio or see a billboard, a million ideas, questions and abstract thoughts buzz around my head. My natural response is to put them on paper but then I stop. I can’t write.
There are a few very reasonable reasons why I can’t and many more unreasonable ones but I’ll stick to the reasonable ones; of course they may seem unreasonable to you and if they do, I’ll take it you’ve never seriously attempted writing.
The first reason would be that unless I capture the delight of the moment and immediately set down to writing it, it just never happens. Call it laziness if you will, but I’d like to think of it as an artistic inability. A poor excuse in even worse choice of words but then you will have to let it go, because I had the idea of writing this two days ago.
Plagiarism. Just the word is enough to send shivers down any budding writer’s back. I’ll be presumptuous and say everybody who attempts writing have read at least a book or two that has really affected them. When an emigrant can pick up the accent of the nation he goes to after a while, is it really impossible to pick up the style of your favourite author? What separates a bad writer from a good one is that the good one has a style of his own, the great ones seem simply to write like everybody else but add a quirky touch and I’m not talking about the plot. I’m neither good nor great and I wouldn’t want to fall among the bad.
The great writers themselves are a source of agony to me. When I read something that is brilliant I want to cry, irrespective of the mood the piece suggests. It is because I’m not sure I can write anything as good as that. I cannot call myself a writer when these geniuses do too. It just isn’t justified.
Then the case of writer’s block. When nothing inspires and if suddenly a small crack in the wall appears and inspiration does trickle down, the words are all missing. To feel numb and then unable to express what you feel is worse when you know you had the medium to in the first place. I could still spout out nonsense but critics do not look kindly upon a budding writer’s block, even if the critic is your mother and I tell you this from experience.
“Had I been blessed with even limited access to my own mind there would have been no reason to write. I write entirely to find out what I’m thinking, what I’m looking at, what I see and what it means.” A quote from Joan Didion’s ‘Why I write’. I don’t think I could have put that across as accurately as she has (look up my third reason again) but i know it is as true for me. When I write I delve into a part of me that has answers; so though I can’t write for all these reasons and more, I know I stoically still will impose my writing, be it in my journal or a blog.
-Shruthi
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
The Dream
i know some of you might be tired of the romantic cliches i've used, but for me some cliches have this eternal irresistible charm. =)
love, apoorva
The Dream
As the night climaxed and Thalia fell into bed, exhausted, and her mind entered a deep stupor, her subconscious awoke, stretching pleasurable, lazily looking forward to her day. She took in the world around her. Thalia's state of mind when she had gone to sleep had been one of weariness but deep satisfaction also. "Well, we're just going to have to fix that, aren't we?" Tatiana murmered, annoyed by the peace of mind surrounding her. Tatiana as a subconscious thrived on loneliness that comes only in the darkest, most cruel hours of the night, and she had to hunt for that in the depths of Thalia's soul while Thalia slept, if she was to have enough energy to wake up the next night.
Tatiana got up and started walking. Every night her surroundings were different, but no matter what they were, she had to wade through dozens of dimensions of thought. Thalia's mind was a jungle of ideas, her soul an ocean of feeling. As Tatiana fought through it all, she enjoyed the hunt for darkness.
She stumbled and plunged through a soft canpoy, into a radiant space. Sheilding her eyes from the bright lights, she saw a figure approaching. "Katara!" she exclaimed, recognising the subconscious of Thalia's mother. "How are you?"
Katara replied pleasantly, "I'm well, Tatiana dear." They stood together for a few seconds, sheltering themselves from the rainbow of Thalia's mind in the darkness of eachother. Tatiana's eyes radiated shadows into the vibrant tropical atmosphere of the part of Thalia's mind with which she dreamed of her friends. Blinded by memories and echoes of laughter, Tatiana winced. Katara noticed.
"You can control this, Tatiana," she said, gesturing around her. "You have to visualise and then find what you want Thalia to see, what you want to see. That is what she will dream of."
Tatiana thought about this as she pushed on through visions of Thalia and her friends laughing and playing some silly game. The momentary irritation she felt lowered her defences, allowing Thalia's enthusiastic soundtrack to the scene to penetrate her consciousness. As she heard it echoing through Thalia, its rhythm in tune with her heartbeat, Tatiana felt panicked. Thalia's dreams were her creations, and they were becoming stronger. More visions were in the scene now. The love was flowing like blood and wine on the cobblestoned streets of Paris. Tatiana was disgusted by the beauty of it all.
Concentrating on tuning the music off key and blurring the figures Thalia was seeing, Tatiana plunged forward, trying to visualise the environment she wanted to surround Thalia's soul with. As she moved she used her eyes to cast shadows around her, and fight the light and brightness that so often filled Thalia's eyes.
Emerging from the scene, Tatiana knelt to the ground and imagined Thalia close to her. Holding her protectively, Tatiana began to sing. She sang a lullaby Thalia had heard when they were young, which had both terrified Thalia and captivated her to the point of obsession for years. Tatiana sang and sang until Thalia became more solid in her arms and the vibrant colours surrounding Thalia's memories faded, drowning in shadows. She knew that on another level the world was shaking as Thalia's peace of mind shattered and she tossed and turned in her sleep, seeing the person Tatiana had fought so hard to call.
Thalia's demons emerged in a burst of fiery darkness, materializing into the horrible vision that was ripping Thalia's heart to pieces. Tatiana continued to sing as he approached, a hideous, morphed figure with cruel eyes and a tantalizing mouth. He stopped in front of Tatiana, who then stopped singing and got to her feet.
"You don't really look anything like the way she remembers," Tatiana said, smiling coldly at the memory before her. Her eyes glowed red to counter his black ones.
"Her memory of me is tainted," the figure said, but it sounded more like a sneer. "Punishment for my sins," he added sarcastically. "I'm supposed to be feeling remorse."
"But you're beautiful," Tatiana said, her eyes devouring him. "Breaking hearts is an art, not a sin."
The dream grew more definable with the strength of this compliment. "I'm glad at least this part of her still needs to see me."
"Yes," Tatiana agreed, "Now it's your job to keep us entertained until she wakes up..."
love, apoorva
The Dream
As the night climaxed and Thalia fell into bed, exhausted, and her mind entered a deep stupor, her subconscious awoke, stretching pleasurable, lazily looking forward to her day. She took in the world around her. Thalia's state of mind when she had gone to sleep had been one of weariness but deep satisfaction also. "Well, we're just going to have to fix that, aren't we?" Tatiana murmered, annoyed by the peace of mind surrounding her. Tatiana as a subconscious thrived on loneliness that comes only in the darkest, most cruel hours of the night, and she had to hunt for that in the depths of Thalia's soul while Thalia slept, if she was to have enough energy to wake up the next night.
Tatiana got up and started walking. Every night her surroundings were different, but no matter what they were, she had to wade through dozens of dimensions of thought. Thalia's mind was a jungle of ideas, her soul an ocean of feeling. As Tatiana fought through it all, she enjoyed the hunt for darkness.
She stumbled and plunged through a soft canpoy, into a radiant space. Sheilding her eyes from the bright lights, she saw a figure approaching. "Katara!" she exclaimed, recognising the subconscious of Thalia's mother. "How are you?"
Katara replied pleasantly, "I'm well, Tatiana dear." They stood together for a few seconds, sheltering themselves from the rainbow of Thalia's mind in the darkness of eachother. Tatiana's eyes radiated shadows into the vibrant tropical atmosphere of the part of Thalia's mind with which she dreamed of her friends. Blinded by memories and echoes of laughter, Tatiana winced. Katara noticed.
"You can control this, Tatiana," she said, gesturing around her. "You have to visualise and then find what you want Thalia to see, what you want to see. That is what she will dream of."
Tatiana thought about this as she pushed on through visions of Thalia and her friends laughing and playing some silly game. The momentary irritation she felt lowered her defences, allowing Thalia's enthusiastic soundtrack to the scene to penetrate her consciousness. As she heard it echoing through Thalia, its rhythm in tune with her heartbeat, Tatiana felt panicked. Thalia's dreams were her creations, and they were becoming stronger. More visions were in the scene now. The love was flowing like blood and wine on the cobblestoned streets of Paris. Tatiana was disgusted by the beauty of it all.
Concentrating on tuning the music off key and blurring the figures Thalia was seeing, Tatiana plunged forward, trying to visualise the environment she wanted to surround Thalia's soul with. As she moved she used her eyes to cast shadows around her, and fight the light and brightness that so often filled Thalia's eyes.
Emerging from the scene, Tatiana knelt to the ground and imagined Thalia close to her. Holding her protectively, Tatiana began to sing. She sang a lullaby Thalia had heard when they were young, which had both terrified Thalia and captivated her to the point of obsession for years. Tatiana sang and sang until Thalia became more solid in her arms and the vibrant colours surrounding Thalia's memories faded, drowning in shadows. She knew that on another level the world was shaking as Thalia's peace of mind shattered and she tossed and turned in her sleep, seeing the person Tatiana had fought so hard to call.
Thalia's demons emerged in a burst of fiery darkness, materializing into the horrible vision that was ripping Thalia's heart to pieces. Tatiana continued to sing as he approached, a hideous, morphed figure with cruel eyes and a tantalizing mouth. He stopped in front of Tatiana, who then stopped singing and got to her feet.
"You don't really look anything like the way she remembers," Tatiana said, smiling coldly at the memory before her. Her eyes glowed red to counter his black ones.
"Her memory of me is tainted," the figure said, but it sounded more like a sneer. "Punishment for my sins," he added sarcastically. "I'm supposed to be feeling remorse."
"But you're beautiful," Tatiana said, her eyes devouring him. "Breaking hearts is an art, not a sin."
The dream grew more definable with the strength of this compliment. "I'm glad at least this part of her still needs to see me."
"Yes," Tatiana agreed, "Now it's your job to keep us entertained until she wakes up..."
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Few things one most do in a boarding LIFE!
Whatever i write here, let me tell you i have done all of it!
Its super fun!!! Trust Me!!!
1)Make maggi with geyser water at 2 am.
2)Smuggle food into the house illegally.
3)Go to the house mistresses house and ask for food.
4)Watch television beyond curfew.
5)Try origami during prep hours, trust me you learn faster.
6)If you nothing to study during prep, READ through the Dictionary.
7)Try and go out every weekend with the entire house, find exciting things to do so that the teacher does not refuse.
8)Play kabbadi when it rains.
9)In a double bed size bed, try sleeping with 7 people.
10)Open a mini chocolate factory inside your cupboard.
11)At the hour of cupboard check go take a shower if your cupboard is not worth looking at.
12)Call for food from the Dhaba because your bored of the mess food.
13)Watch awards with the entire house sitting in the common room (you cant hear a word of what the host is saying on the tv)
14)watch your batch mates and seniors cry in an emotional movie (every time)
ahh!!!thats all i can remember for now..
Anamica Jain
hmmm....yes its me...
Hi all,
yes as you all very well know how much of a writer i am...
but, there is something i could share...
So here we goo...
I MISS my previous school The Daly College, Indore, i miss my friends, my boarder buddies, my humanities gang, my teachers, my Vice Principal (Mr.Potty), but most of all my school campus and the main building.
I have had the time of my life over there, its something i cant even express.
when i went there, i did not know that i will happen to miss it so much? I wish i did know it then!
Even if i thank all my teachers and my friends like a million of times, i do not think i can give them back what they have given me.
Its like a small world in there, everything just so nice and pleasant, while i was there i wanted to run away with my friends, but towards the end, we started collecting all our memories, clicking pictures, just sitting outside in the garden staring at squirrels play, we wished and prayed we could stay back in there for some more time, but the time has to pass, and so it did.
Our graduation day arrived, we were all very excited, because it was not an ordinary one, it was special, very special. We would be wearing our school formals and dressing up with our blazers with our own college colours for the last time, from Dalians, we would be turning to Old-Dalians now, soon.
We all cried in joy and sorrow, our parents standing there, we hoped we made them proud, gave roses to our favorite teacher. we knew we have troubled them like crazy and they would never want us back, but one thing even they knew, that we would miss them and we did love them at the end of the day.
I cry as i write this, i m not the one who cries so easily, but i have been missing them recently.
A tragedy took place on the 3rd of oct, something that none of us can still get over with, one of our batch mate is no more, he died in a car accident, and the other two friends are in the hospital.
But, one thing we all realized that even though we did not know each other two well, and were just the typical hi-bye friends, we did feel the pain. All of us did, hoping that the other two recover soon. Is this the Dalian feeling? The togetherness? The connection the emotions?
In the end all I would like to say is-I AM PROUD TO BE A DALIAN.
And will always be one.
Anamica Jain
Monday, October 4, 2010
Is he the one ? (Part 3)
She finally reached the bus stop.It felt like an extremely long walk.But she couldn't see him anywhere.So she called him to tell him that she had reached and was waiting for him but he cut her call.She assumed that he was on his way and waited.
He had already spotted her when she called him but he cut her call on purpose.He was nervous and had forgotten all that he had prepared to say to her when he saw her.She was looking so pretty in the blue top.And he knew that it was her favorite color.She had tied her hair up today and her ponytail was swished from side to side every time she turned.He sighed and pulled himself together.He picked up the chocolates and her presents,which were now neatly wrapped in colorful paper,took a deep breath and walked towards her.He hadn't told her about the gift and the chocolates knowing she'd say no.He wanted to surprise her.
She was getting a little anxious now.Where was he ?? He should have been there by now.And then she spotted him walking towards her with a chocolate box in one hand and a nicely wrapped gift on the other.She was surprised ! She didn't recall him saying anything about gifts and chocolates.She smiled to herself.As he came towards her she knew that he was serious.He walked up to her, said hi shyly and gave her the chocolates and the gift.He hoped she would like them.And she did.She had never told him that she liked chocolates and that blue was her favorite color but he had done his research before buying her the gifts.He was elated when she told him how much she liked the presents.She knew now that maybe he was the one.He could be the one if she would give him the chance.She would never know unless she opened herself up and let him into her life.She was still did not know what the future had in store for her,for them, but she realized that if she did not give it a chance she would never know.
Gowri
He had already spotted her when she called him but he cut her call on purpose.He was nervous and had forgotten all that he had prepared to say to her when he saw her.She was looking so pretty in the blue top.And he knew that it was her favorite color.She had tied her hair up today and her ponytail was swished from side to side every time she turned.He sighed and pulled himself together.He picked up the chocolates and her presents,which were now neatly wrapped in colorful paper,took a deep breath and walked towards her.He hadn't told her about the gift and the chocolates knowing she'd say no.He wanted to surprise her.
She was getting a little anxious now.Where was he ?? He should have been there by now.And then she spotted him walking towards her with a chocolate box in one hand and a nicely wrapped gift on the other.She was surprised ! She didn't recall him saying anything about gifts and chocolates.She smiled to herself.As he came towards her she knew that he was serious.He walked up to her, said hi shyly and gave her the chocolates and the gift.He hoped she would like them.And she did.She had never told him that she liked chocolates and that blue was her favorite color but he had done his research before buying her the gifts.He was elated when she told him how much she liked the presents.She knew now that maybe he was the one.He could be the one if she would give him the chance.She would never know unless she opened herself up and let him into her life.She was still did not know what the future had in store for her,for them, but she realized that if she did not give it a chance she would never know.
Gowri
Is he the one ? (Part 2)
He was ready to meet her.She would finish college early today and they would meet at the bus stop.It was her birthday yesterday,but it being a Sunday she spent the day with her family.Besides,her parents wouldn't let her out of the house on weekends.They were a little old fashioned you see. It had only been a week since she'd said yes,so no one knew about it except for his best friend and her best friend.She had insisted on meeting at the bus stop....he wonder why.She said she had to get home early because some guests were coming home.Somehow...they'd never met alone.They spoke for hours on the phone but they had not gone out on a date yet.She needed time he thought and went on to select his outfit for the occasion.He chose his clothes and shoes with great care.He had to look his best today.He had bought a blue kurta and matching earrings to go with it.He didn't know if she'd like it but she sure looked pretty when he imagined her wearing them.
It was nearly time to leave.He was going to be there 10 minutes earlier.He was filled with nervous energy and excitement.He also wanted to pick up some chocolates on the way...she loved chocolates.He had cleaned his bike which looked quite new.He was ready.He was going to meet her.He was lost in thought as he drove to the bus stop.
Gowri
It was nearly time to leave.He was going to be there 10 minutes earlier.He was filled with nervous energy and excitement.He also wanted to pick up some chocolates on the way...she loved chocolates.He had cleaned his bike which looked quite new.He was ready.He was going to meet her.He was lost in thought as he drove to the bus stop.
Gowri
Is he the one ? (Part 1)
She was not ready to meet him.Not alone at least ! She had never been in a relationship before and had never been on a date.Even though she had said yes to him she wasn't sure what she had got into.Though he seemed like a nice guy,she wasn't sure if he really was serious about her or if he was just using her.She had heard too many stories of girls getting used by guys and being dumped.She decided to put these thoughts out of her mind and think about what she would wear that day.She would know the truth soon,she figured.She tried on a few things but finally decided on her favorite blue top with a black satin bow at the back.She loved the top and looked very pretty in it.She quickly tied her hair into a ponytail and left for college.
Throughout the day she kept thinking of him and whether she had done the right thing by getting into the relationship.She kept turning the thoughts over and over in her head until all she could think about was that.She tried hard to concentrate in class but couldn't.The day went by in a flash and before she knew it the last bell rang and she was walking slowly towards the college gate,towards the bus stop.Her friends were talking in loud voices all around her but she did not hear them.Her mind was far away....it was already at the stop.
Gowri
Throughout the day she kept thinking of him and whether she had done the right thing by getting into the relationship.She kept turning the thoughts over and over in her head until all she could think about was that.She tried hard to concentrate in class but couldn't.The day went by in a flash and before she knew it the last bell rang and she was walking slowly towards the college gate,towards the bus stop.Her friends were talking in loud voices all around her but she did not hear them.Her mind was far away....it was already at the stop.
Gowri
One of the very first stories I have read by Asimov was Exile to Hell,and has remained my favourite ever since.(Spoiler Alert) Basically its about a man sentenced to permanent exile.The place where the man (Jenkins) has been exiled to, is described as being similar to hell.However at the end it is revealed that the place compared to hell is Earth itself.Civilisation has moved to the moon and Earth is where criminals are sent to be punished.In the story the Earths green colour and gravity (which bears mankind down and tires him )has been described to be dreadful ,all this is of course from the perspective of a person from the mooon.
-Stephanie
-Stephanie
The mighty one
The mighty lord
Saves us all
Whether we pray or not.
He controls the world,
And empowers it.
In this world,
there exist:
Priests and devotees,
Fathers and Sisters,
Who see God everywhere.
God once announced
The 10 commandments.
But who be there to follow?
Not one. No one.
Simple grace in
Every step he makes.
Invisible, and so be it.
He converts the evil
Into a form that,
Though one can't see,
One can't imagine
And one does not know of,
One deserves and faces later
If he be evil.
And then there are
The atheists,
Who claim that
They have no belief in Him;
And yet, preach his name
For every trouble
That they face.
Funny, yet true.
He must punish the evil
Not the good.
But in real life,
It is the good one
That often faces more misery
Than the evil, who
Laughs in the corner,
All by himself.
We complain, we whine
But never realize,
That, it is the mistakes,
Errors, sorrows, miseries,
Love and hatred
That make life interesting.
These factors, upon which
Our story lives on,
Are the parameters
That God uses, to decide
Between who is good,
And who is bad.
-Madhuvanthi
Saves us all
Whether we pray or not.
He controls the world,
And empowers it.
In this world,
there exist:
Priests and devotees,
Fathers and Sisters,
Who see God everywhere.
God once announced
The 10 commandments.
But who be there to follow?
Not one. No one.
Simple grace in
Every step he makes.
Invisible, and so be it.
He converts the evil
Into a form that,
Though one can't see,
One can't imagine
And one does not know of,
One deserves and faces later
If he be evil.
And then there are
The atheists,
Who claim that
They have no belief in Him;
And yet, preach his name
For every trouble
That they face.
Funny, yet true.
He must punish the evil
Not the good.
But in real life,
It is the good one
That often faces more misery
Than the evil, who
Laughs in the corner,
All by himself.
We complain, we whine
But never realize,
That, it is the mistakes,
Errors, sorrows, miseries,
Love and hatred
That make life interesting.
These factors, upon which
Our story lives on,
Are the parameters
That God uses, to decide
Between who is good,
And who is bad.
-Madhuvanthi
C-gulls
All us girls dressed prim and proper
Full of enthusiasm,talking to each other
Walking around the campus and gazing with wonder
Thus began a brand new chapter
With our very first day in campus
Now here we are five months later
Six semesters meant to spend together
One has gone by with the blink of an eye
Five more to go and time ain't passing slow
Before we know it five months would have gone by
and it would be time to say goodbye
but one thing we'll always remember
that we c-gulls give up never
We'll be the best at what we do
and hopefully that is true
so lets promise that from next semester
we'll put more effort and get better
so lets all say it once again
its c-gulls till the end
-Stephanie
Full of enthusiasm,talking to each other
Walking around the campus and gazing with wonder
Thus began a brand new chapter
With our very first day in campus
Now here we are five months later
Six semesters meant to spend together
One has gone by with the blink of an eye
Five more to go and time ain't passing slow
Before we know it five months would have gone by
and it would be time to say goodbye
but one thing we'll always remember
that we c-gulls give up never
We'll be the best at what we do
and hopefully that is true
so lets promise that from next semester
we'll put more effort and get better
so lets all say it once again
its c-gulls till the end
-Stephanie
Hola everyone!
So I was looking through this stack of really old children’s story books in my cupboard. While I was flipping through a book called “Pookie in Wonderland” (!!), I came across this tiny slip of paper with my handwriting scrawled across the page. At the bottom of the page, it said “When reading Pookie and looking at Simba”. Simba was this cat I have and he must have been a very tiny kitten then. So here are two verses out of four that I had a good laugh over!
(Don’t make fun; it has taken me a lot of courage to put even this much here. And be nice, I wrote this at the age of 9 or 10!!!)
He plays with newspaper,
It’s the best toy in the world,
His tail is, of course,
What confounds him the most.
Those pieces of string!
He cannot help but spring, for-
They are to him-
Future mice!
(Yes, you can laugh! )
So I was looking through this stack of really old children’s story books in my cupboard. While I was flipping through a book called “Pookie in Wonderland” (!!), I came across this tiny slip of paper with my handwriting scrawled across the page. At the bottom of the page, it said “When reading Pookie and looking at Simba”. Simba was this cat I have and he must have been a very tiny kitten then. So here are two verses out of four that I had a good laugh over!
(Don’t make fun; it has taken me a lot of courage to put even this much here. And be nice, I wrote this at the age of 9 or 10!!!)
He plays with newspaper,
It’s the best toy in the world,
His tail is, of course,
What confounds him the most.
Those pieces of string!
He cannot help but spring, for-
They are to him-
Future mice!
(Yes, you can laugh! )
Be Thankful...
Be thankful that you don't already have everything you desire,
If you did, what would there be to look forward to?
Be thankful when you don't know something
For it gives you the opportunity to learn.
Be thankful for the difficult times.
During those times you grow.
Be thankful for your limitations
Because they give you opportunities for improvement.
Be thankful for each new challenge
Because it will build your strength and character.
Be thankful for your mistakes
They will teach you valuable lessons.
Be thankful when you're tired and weary
Because it means you've made a difference.
It is easy to be thankful for the good things.
A life of rich fulfillment comes to those who are
also thankful for the setbacks.
Wasima Siddiqui
If you did, what would there be to look forward to?
Be thankful when you don't know something
For it gives you the opportunity to learn.
Be thankful for the difficult times.
During those times you grow.
Be thankful for your limitations
Because they give you opportunities for improvement.
Be thankful for each new challenge
Because it will build your strength and character.
Be thankful for your mistakes
They will teach you valuable lessons.
Be thankful when you're tired and weary
Because it means you've made a difference.
It is easy to be thankful for the good things.
A life of rich fulfillment comes to those who are
also thankful for the setbacks.
Wasima Siddiqui
Sunday, October 3, 2010
A Thought.
Kris Allen's song 'Live like we're dying' got me thinking, so...
If your life flashed before you
What would you wish you would've done?
And if your plane fell out of the skies
Who would you call with your last goodbye?
If your life flashed before you
What would you wish you would've done?
And if your plane fell out of the skies
Who would you call with your last goodbye?
Funnel of Journey
A funnel ambles through the night.
Within its body, moonbeams white
converge as they
descend upon
its forest
pathway
and
so
on
Noella Ferrao
The Seagulls
The seagulls by their looks suggest
that PRIDENA is their name;
they wear a white and fluffy vest
and are the hunter's game.
I never shoot a seagull dead;
their life I do not take.
I like to feed them vanitybread
and bits of haughty cake.
O human, you will never fly
the way the seagulls do;
but if your name is PRIDENA, why,
be glad they look like you.
noella ferrao
that PRIDENA is their name;
they wear a white and fluffy vest
and are the hunter's game.
I never shoot a seagull dead;
their life I do not take.
I like to feed them vanitybread
and bits of haughty cake.
O human, you will never fly
the way the seagulls do;
but if your name is PRIDENA, why,
be glad they look like you.
noella ferrao
goa's blood
He who has sullied my home with his blood
Has now gone
He has run away confused and humiliated
Like any coward
And he has understood that so long as he remains, the stars will not shine in the sky
He will never be met with anything but sorrow
He has been defeated now, he has been defeated
His spiteful face has now been smashed
Last night, his lost memories crept into my heart
as spring arrives secretly into a barren garden
as a cool morning breeze blows slowly in a desert
as a sick person feels well, for no reason.
For the truth is more powerful than ignorance and oppression
Has now gone
He has run away confused and humiliated
Like any coward
And he has understood that so long as he remains, the stars will not shine in the sky
He will never be met with anything but sorrow
He has been defeated now, he has been defeated
His spiteful face has now been smashed
Last night, his lost memories crept into my heart
as spring arrives secretly into a barren garden
as a cool morning breeze blows slowly in a desert
as a sick person feels well, for no reason.
For the truth is more powerful than ignorance and oppression
Why I love the movie Harvie Krumpet
The movie Harvie krumpet is the odd biography of a man who has Tourette's Syndrome, chronic bad luck, menial jobs, nudist tendencies, and a book of "fakts" hung around his neck.
• The Quotes in the movie are very straight forward and in-your-face but very true.
• The animation using clay is brilliant.
• The movie is different.
• The story is touching yet funny
It is very dark at times(has plenty of dark humour) but also a reflection of life. As Harvie's life unfolds you can't help but think, yep life is like that! It's very funny, very sad and also very true.
The best part of the movie is everyone who watches it can relate to certain parts in Harvie’s life.
The story and the humanity we see in Harvie is what makes Harvie Krumpet so appealing. There is also excellent animation with clay that adds many dimensions to the characters. The expressions upon the characters faces truly add to the story that is being told. Each character is expressive and unforgettable.
• The animation using clay is brilliant.
• The movie is different.
• The story is touching yet funny
It is very dark at times(has plenty of dark humour) but also a reflection of life. As Harvie's life unfolds you can't help but think, yep life is like that! It's very funny, very sad and also very true.
The best part of the movie is everyone who watches it can relate to certain parts in Harvie’s life.
The story and the humanity we see in Harvie is what makes Harvie Krumpet so appealing. There is also excellent animation with clay that adds many dimensions to the characters. The expressions upon the characters faces truly add to the story that is being told. Each character is expressive and unforgettable.
This movie is a MUST watch :)
~Krithika .R.
Here'a the list of those who've posted till now; I'm putting down the number of posts and your marks -do let me know immediately if I've got the post numbers wrong.The order is name, no. of posts, marks.
1.Purva-3-5
2.Ananya-5-5
3.Madhu-9-5
4. Taarika-3-5
5.Samragni-5-5
6.Aditi Kapoor-2-4
7.Manjari-2-4
8.Krithika-2-4
9.Deepakshi-3-5
10.Lovlyn-3-5
11.Apoorva-5-5
12. Anisha-3-5
13.Elia-3-5
14.Aninditha-3-5
15.Sakshi-2-4
16.Shalini Sinha-3-5
17.Maitri-3-5
18.Mithra-2-4
19.winona-3-5
20.Shruthi-1-2
21.Rebecca-3-5
22.Priya-2-4
23.Imtina-2-4
24.Bushra-2-4
25.Richa-3-5
26.Waseema-1-2
27.Rishika-1-2
As for those who have not posted, you can still do it now, I'm entering marks tomorrow. Noella, Shalini Raja, Gowri, Aditi Nayar, Steffi,Anamica.
K
1.Purva-3-5
2.Ananya-5-5
3.Madhu-9-5
4. Taarika-3-5
5.Samragni-5-5
6.Aditi Kapoor-2-4
7.Manjari-2-4
8.Krithika-2-4
9.Deepakshi-3-5
10.Lovlyn-3-5
11.Apoorva-5-5
12. Anisha-3-5
13.Elia-3-5
14.Aninditha-3-5
15.Sakshi-2-4
16.Shalini Sinha-3-5
17.Maitri-3-5
18.Mithra-2-4
19.winona-3-5
20.Shruthi-1-2
21.Rebecca-3-5
22.Priya-2-4
23.Imtina-2-4
24.Bushra-2-4
25.Richa-3-5
26.Waseema-1-2
27.Rishika-1-2
As for those who have not posted, you can still do it now, I'm entering marks tomorrow. Noella, Shalini Raja, Gowri, Aditi Nayar, Steffi,Anamica.
K
Friday, October 1, 2010
Hidden Swords of the Malabar
The December rain drummed a steady beat on the asbestos outside. The air was cool but humid; typical Madras weather. From my window I saw a group of young boys- athletic, nervous- line-up for their auditions under the peepal and banyan trees. The wet earth, sticky air and intermittent rainfall took me all the way back to my childhood home in the Malabar. There, the monsoon was particularly exciting. Frogs croaked all day long beside swollen ponds, water in the canals overflowed onto muddy paths and rice fields were flooded. Water snakes often slithered unnoticed into homes, only to be discovered by startled servants, among the rice sacks. Rajan, our father’s ‘Man Friday’, would climb up coconut trees to give us coconuts from which we drank the sweetest daab. He would row us through the rice fields and set up make-shift tree houses in the middle of them to scare away hungry birds. In those tree houses, all of us cousins would huddle up close and listen to Rajan Chetan’s stories about demons and local legends, goddesses and family deities. Often his stories would keep us enraptured way after dusk. On such occasions, I was always the brave boy who lit the kerosene torches and held them, blazing brightly above our heads as we made our way back home.
One of my favorite pastimes during the monsoon was to go fishing with Rajan Chetan. He was a genius- he taught me how to make a bow and arrow from the mid-rib of a coconut leaf. He taught me how to tell the difference between the common canal fish and the succulent varieties. He let me use his canoe all day long if I wanted to. In it, I learnt how to take aim and shoot at fish in the water with those coconut leaf bows and arrows. I’d return home with aluminum buckets full of fish for my mother to fry. And it was in this canoe that I found one of the deepest, darkest secrets of the Malabar…
It was a cool, rainy morning. The sun was not visible behind the heavy, grey clouds in the sky. Birds stirred almost lazily in their nests and the entire household was still asleep. I had woken up early to get the best catch, and undoing the rope that had anchored Rajan’s canoe, I slid into it, dipping the long bamboo pole into the water.
As I pushed the canoe through the still canal waters, I looked around me. I looked at the muddy paths along the canal banks, the bamboo bridges laid across the waters, the foliage that was a fresh, tender green, the ancient wooden houses. Everything looked so surreal and enchanting in that pale grey morning light. Soon however, I found myself quite lost. I was in the middle of a thick network of canals that seemed to lead to other routes that all looked exactly the same. There was not a soul around to tell me where I was. Not a single house seemed inhabited. I heard a cock crow a few yards away. Deciding that the best thing to do would be to get onto terra firma and then wait for someone to wake up or pass by and tell me how to get home, I pushed my canoe onshore and tied it tightly to a pole on the banks. Lifting myself out of the boat, I stepped onto the mossy bank and started following the mud path along the canal. Aware of how still everything was around me, I tried not to shiver. “Come on, Raghu, you’re not in the middle of a jungle! You’re still in the village. Don’t be such a mouse!” I told myself. Shivering involuntarily, my pace quickened as I made my way to the nearest house I could fine. No matter who or what was behind those doors, my ten-year-old heart had gone cold with fear. As I approached the house, I realized that the door was left slightly ajar and an old oil lamp lit the entrance. The wick in the lamp was very short and the flame flickered rapidly, threatening to go out very soon. I had reached out to knock on the door when I felt a hand grab my shirt and a hand cover my mouth. Trying to break free, I felt an iron-like arm haul me off the ground.
My world turned upside down. The ground was above me, the sky almost invisible below me. My attacker was running along dizzying patches of green. Suddenly, my stomach jolted downwards and my neck jerked forward. Around me, I saw layers of earth. It was like I was being carried down into the depths of the earth. Then I realized- I was underground!
Hazes of fire blazed above me and shapes swirled about while colours flickered and disappeared around my head. I found myself being thrown onto the floor in the middle of a room with walls and a floor made of earth. I gasped. Rows of shining, silver swords of all kinds of shapes and sizes lined the walls. Among them were shields of various sizes, along with different kinds of whips. In one corner, was a shrine decorated with flowers and incense. Faces along the sides of the room stared at me open-mouthed. I felt my head swim and the faces around me merge into one. Then, one of them cleared his throat. Someone else laughed nervously.
My abductor stepped in front of me- it was Rajan Chetan! Seeing my bewildered face, he knelt beside me and murmured soothingly- “don’t worry, Raghu, you’ve nothing to fear. I thought you were a stranger, I couldn’t see in the dark. Forgive me.”
I swallowed and licked my parched lips. I didn’t know how to respond. “Where am I?”
“This, Raghu, is a place known only to a few, fortunate souls. No one, you understand, not a soul other than the people you see assembled here, know of this place, and any stranger who has been here, curious or even a spy, has faced one of those swords or daggers that you see there. You’ve been brought here by accident, but it’s too grave a problem that you’ve seen this much. What shall we do?” asked Rajan Chetan.
I didn’t know this man anymore.”Chetan, what is all this?”
He stared at me. “I suppose you have the right to know now. Yes. Very well then, since you aren’t a stranger you’ll know. But remember, if you tell a soul, and don’t worry, we’ll get to know if you do, I will personally make sure that you meet the edge of one of these swords. I don’t care if you’re my boss’s son. Do you understand me, child?” he roared. I shrank back, not even daring to nod. He fixed his eyes on me intently, his mouth a thin, hard line. He wasn’t going to repeat his question; he was too proud to.
And I was to answer.
“Yes, I will not repeat what you tell me and I won’t tell a soul what I’ve seen. I promise, Rajan Chetan” I managed to stutter. This seemed to soften him, for he suddenly smiled warmly, and I recognized him again.
“Where you stand right now, my little boy, this- pit in the earth- is called a kalari. In this kalari, over thousands of years, the soldiers of this land practiced and perfected the original art of fighting and defense- kalaripayyatu. It is the origin of all martial art forms in the world today and was taught to us by Lord Parashuram himself. Handed down through a sacred disciplic succession, this form is now almost lost. We are one of the two groups who know this martial art still and hence it is our foremost duty to preserve this sacred knowledge and tradition.”
“Then why is it a secret? If it’s almost extinct why do you hide it from the world?” I asked, unable to understand why something as amazing as this was being kept so secretively by such a small group of fierce men.
“That, my child, is the most important question right now.” His face became hard and furious again, and I felt scared. Had I said the wrong thing?
“You see”, he continued,” it would have been the most valuable asset to us all. But no,” he laughed bitterly. “The British, they weren’t even able to defend themselves against our power. They found that they were helpless as long as we had kalaripayyatu to defend ourselves. And so, they went on a rampage, banning the teaching and practice of this art. They mercilessly shot our valiant fathers and grandfathers when they found them just practicing a single move in their backyards. That was when we realized that the only way we could preserve this sacred martial art was by teaching and practicing in complete secrecy. Not a soul is to know, for the British wait around us like a pack of hungry wolves, eager for the slightest opportunity to crush our heritage.” He stopped, becoming very somber.”Our only hope is to free ourselves from their rule.” Silence descended upon the group of warriors in the kalari.
I was moved. A fire sparked within me. I was stirred from the very depth of my heart by this story- so magical, yet so real. I wanted to learn and share this wonder too. Suddenly an idea flashed across my mind. Lifting my head up, I saw everyone in the room staring intently at me. “Rajan Chetan, may I learn too and continue this tradition?”
He had known.
And now, all these years later, I saw these boys waiting to audition and get into this academy. All of them were eager to learn. They had no chains to hold them down. They were free. They were from various nooks and crannies of India. They were the future, the promise.
One of my favorite pastimes during the monsoon was to go fishing with Rajan Chetan. He was a genius- he taught me how to make a bow and arrow from the mid-rib of a coconut leaf. He taught me how to tell the difference between the common canal fish and the succulent varieties. He let me use his canoe all day long if I wanted to. In it, I learnt how to take aim and shoot at fish in the water with those coconut leaf bows and arrows. I’d return home with aluminum buckets full of fish for my mother to fry. And it was in this canoe that I found one of the deepest, darkest secrets of the Malabar…
It was a cool, rainy morning. The sun was not visible behind the heavy, grey clouds in the sky. Birds stirred almost lazily in their nests and the entire household was still asleep. I had woken up early to get the best catch, and undoing the rope that had anchored Rajan’s canoe, I slid into it, dipping the long bamboo pole into the water.
As I pushed the canoe through the still canal waters, I looked around me. I looked at the muddy paths along the canal banks, the bamboo bridges laid across the waters, the foliage that was a fresh, tender green, the ancient wooden houses. Everything looked so surreal and enchanting in that pale grey morning light. Soon however, I found myself quite lost. I was in the middle of a thick network of canals that seemed to lead to other routes that all looked exactly the same. There was not a soul around to tell me where I was. Not a single house seemed inhabited. I heard a cock crow a few yards away. Deciding that the best thing to do would be to get onto terra firma and then wait for someone to wake up or pass by and tell me how to get home, I pushed my canoe onshore and tied it tightly to a pole on the banks. Lifting myself out of the boat, I stepped onto the mossy bank and started following the mud path along the canal. Aware of how still everything was around me, I tried not to shiver. “Come on, Raghu, you’re not in the middle of a jungle! You’re still in the village. Don’t be such a mouse!” I told myself. Shivering involuntarily, my pace quickened as I made my way to the nearest house I could fine. No matter who or what was behind those doors, my ten-year-old heart had gone cold with fear. As I approached the house, I realized that the door was left slightly ajar and an old oil lamp lit the entrance. The wick in the lamp was very short and the flame flickered rapidly, threatening to go out very soon. I had reached out to knock on the door when I felt a hand grab my shirt and a hand cover my mouth. Trying to break free, I felt an iron-like arm haul me off the ground.
My world turned upside down. The ground was above me, the sky almost invisible below me. My attacker was running along dizzying patches of green. Suddenly, my stomach jolted downwards and my neck jerked forward. Around me, I saw layers of earth. It was like I was being carried down into the depths of the earth. Then I realized- I was underground!
Hazes of fire blazed above me and shapes swirled about while colours flickered and disappeared around my head. I found myself being thrown onto the floor in the middle of a room with walls and a floor made of earth. I gasped. Rows of shining, silver swords of all kinds of shapes and sizes lined the walls. Among them were shields of various sizes, along with different kinds of whips. In one corner, was a shrine decorated with flowers and incense. Faces along the sides of the room stared at me open-mouthed. I felt my head swim and the faces around me merge into one. Then, one of them cleared his throat. Someone else laughed nervously.
My abductor stepped in front of me- it was Rajan Chetan! Seeing my bewildered face, he knelt beside me and murmured soothingly- “don’t worry, Raghu, you’ve nothing to fear. I thought you were a stranger, I couldn’t see in the dark. Forgive me.”
I swallowed and licked my parched lips. I didn’t know how to respond. “Where am I?”
“This, Raghu, is a place known only to a few, fortunate souls. No one, you understand, not a soul other than the people you see assembled here, know of this place, and any stranger who has been here, curious or even a spy, has faced one of those swords or daggers that you see there. You’ve been brought here by accident, but it’s too grave a problem that you’ve seen this much. What shall we do?” asked Rajan Chetan.
I didn’t know this man anymore.”Chetan, what is all this?”
He stared at me. “I suppose you have the right to know now. Yes. Very well then, since you aren’t a stranger you’ll know. But remember, if you tell a soul, and don’t worry, we’ll get to know if you do, I will personally make sure that you meet the edge of one of these swords. I don’t care if you’re my boss’s son. Do you understand me, child?” he roared. I shrank back, not even daring to nod. He fixed his eyes on me intently, his mouth a thin, hard line. He wasn’t going to repeat his question; he was too proud to.
And I was to answer.
“Yes, I will not repeat what you tell me and I won’t tell a soul what I’ve seen. I promise, Rajan Chetan” I managed to stutter. This seemed to soften him, for he suddenly smiled warmly, and I recognized him again.
“Where you stand right now, my little boy, this- pit in the earth- is called a kalari. In this kalari, over thousands of years, the soldiers of this land practiced and perfected the original art of fighting and defense- kalaripayyatu. It is the origin of all martial art forms in the world today and was taught to us by Lord Parashuram himself. Handed down through a sacred disciplic succession, this form is now almost lost. We are one of the two groups who know this martial art still and hence it is our foremost duty to preserve this sacred knowledge and tradition.”
“Then why is it a secret? If it’s almost extinct why do you hide it from the world?” I asked, unable to understand why something as amazing as this was being kept so secretively by such a small group of fierce men.
“That, my child, is the most important question right now.” His face became hard and furious again, and I felt scared. Had I said the wrong thing?
“You see”, he continued,” it would have been the most valuable asset to us all. But no,” he laughed bitterly. “The British, they weren’t even able to defend themselves against our power. They found that they were helpless as long as we had kalaripayyatu to defend ourselves. And so, they went on a rampage, banning the teaching and practice of this art. They mercilessly shot our valiant fathers and grandfathers when they found them just practicing a single move in their backyards. That was when we realized that the only way we could preserve this sacred martial art was by teaching and practicing in complete secrecy. Not a soul is to know, for the British wait around us like a pack of hungry wolves, eager for the slightest opportunity to crush our heritage.” He stopped, becoming very somber.”Our only hope is to free ourselves from their rule.” Silence descended upon the group of warriors in the kalari.
I was moved. A fire sparked within me. I was stirred from the very depth of my heart by this story- so magical, yet so real. I wanted to learn and share this wonder too. Suddenly an idea flashed across my mind. Lifting my head up, I saw everyone in the room staring intently at me. “Rajan Chetan, may I learn too and continue this tradition?”
He had known.
And now, all these years later, I saw these boys waiting to audition and get into this academy. All of them were eager to learn. They had no chains to hold them down. They were free. They were from various nooks and crannies of India. They were the future, the promise.
Eshstyle
Each person has their own definition.
For some, it is an expression of what they are and of who they want to be.
Every individual differs –
from the clothes they wear, to the way they walk and talk, to their favourite colour.
It shows who they are, what they think and how they feel.
It creates an impression, evokes different emotions in each of us.
Every year, it’s a new Fad.
Colored contacts, kurtas, juties, converse shoes, scarves, jeans, jeggings, bracelets.
Your style effects how the world perceives you.
So pick a style, stand out, blend in, and define yourself.
-
Imtina Khathing
Thank You, Damn You
I thought my world was all there was
But then you entered it
Until then I was content
With both feet on the ground
I did not know I could fly
You gave me wings
You helped me fly
I wanted more
I wanted to get closer
Closer to you
You were my everything
You were my Sun
But as I got closer
My wings began to melt
You had cheated me
Those wings you gave me
Those wings on which I soared
They were wings of wax
But I had to reach you
I tried one last time
I was about to touch you
Then my wings melted
And from that blinding height
I fell
Now
Bruised and bleeding
My wings gone
Hot wax
Their remains
Dripping over my torn body
I wonder
Do I hate you?
No
For you taught me how to fly
Do I love you?
No
For you left me to fall
I do not know who I am anymore
I do not know whether to hate you
Or love you
You gave me a taste
Of something I can never forget
Of what life could be like
My world no longer sates me
I want to fly again
Yes, fly again
But
Not with you
Thank You
Damn You
I will never forget you
You, my Sun
And I
Your Icarus
Winona
Here and there
AV rooms, PU drive, Cafeteria or be it class,
we always find class-mates everywhere in great mass.
Walking, roaming around, killing time in loafer's lane,
this so called "Pattern of Movement" here and there, must we explain?
we always find class-mates everywhere in great mass.
Walking, roaming around, killing time in loafer's lane,
this so called "Pattern of Movement" here and there, must we explain?
-
Imtina Khathing
Again...
And once again I stand,
With my beating heart in hand,
Pupils dilated, I'm dilapidated
Careworn and forlorn
So once again I'm here
Experiencing the same fear
Yes I've debated, and reinstated
Emotions and devotions
To stand here and face
And readily embrace
What is fated, destiny stated
Beginning, repeating.
--
Bushra
Answers
High on the vibes of the eternal light,
darkness seeps from within.
Deceptive lies of self told prophecies,
life is more lively beaneath the skin.
Overpowering melancholy, breathing melody,
answers to life's puzzle.
In numbers, music math and patterns found.
Let the heard speak, take off the wiseman's muzzle
Verbal jousts leading to nothing;
Pretentious with every breath
Do u truly seek an answer ?
Or are u just avoiding the consequences of death
Immortality beyond this life to live
To not disappear into air , water or fire.
Seeking, searching desperately
Till truth is found you're a liar.
--
Bushra
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Why I hate Ayn Rand
There's just this intangible something about Ayn Rand's books that just bring out and emphasize on my insecurities. For that i hate, passionately, with all my heart, Ayn Rand and her books but at the same time i can't help but be strangely fascinated and...whats the word..i dunno..held by them (imagine a snake being made to rise up and perform some silly dance, unwillingly, to the strange, disconcerting tunes of the snake charmer)
- Firstly, what's with the whole 'never do anything that doesn't serve some serious purpose' philosophy? So people like looking at and living in Tudor or Georgian or whatever outdated styles of architecture - it appeals to their aesthetic sense! So what if the buttresses on the pillar are unnecessary? Some people happen to think it looks good! Isn't that purpose enough?
- I resent and hate Howard Roark! Men like him do not and cannot exist! It just completely goes against nature as we know it! I saw on some internet survey that there are quite a few people who would actually like to date Roark! To them i say - do you like feeling like you do not exist or that you are not worth any emotion - not even contempt? You've got low self esteem issues is what and are sure to be in some kind of an abusive relationship.
- Worse - The Fountainhead actually says that inferior people like Mrs Keating resent Roark. So I belong inferior sect of the human race:-(
- I'm Peter Keating. Or so i used to think(my friends assure me otherwise but then they're like me) I'm definitely not ambitious to the point of not caring what you throw aside like him, but i can't help looking up to Roark as an ideal (strange after my abusive diatribe against him, i know)
- My character is a blend of the shades of grey. There is no black and nor is there any white. I'm always stuck in the middle, whether of actions or even thoughts and opinions. And according to Ayn Rand, that is a sign of mediocrity.
- I couldn't stop reading Fountainhead before my Physics preparatory and almost failed as a result.
- I was very confused( more so than usual, and that's saying a lot) for months after i read Atlas Shrugged. I'd think a thousand times before i said or did anything. Was i a looter? A moocher?
- I still am confused. I don't know what to believe. What Ayn Rand says makes so much sense logically but to believe her would mean not being able to live up to those ideals and i'd just hate myself. I'd rather hate her than me.
- This, what Gore Vidal says, is what i'd like to believe: "This odd little woman is attempting to give a moral sanction to greed and self interest. She has a great attraction for simple people who are puzzled by organized society, who object to paying taxes, who dislike the “welfare” state, who feel guilt at the thought of the suffering of others but who would like to harden their hearts. For them, she has an enticing prescription: altruism is the root of all evil, self-interest is the only good, and if you’re dumb or incompetent that’s your lookout." Sigh...he is just so much more coherent than me. So yeah - what he says, goes.
Anindhita
This is the first poem I've written in many, many years ( lines with an abab rhyme scheme like "Once there was a goat, who wore a blue coat" etc, etc do not count - and i hope you do realize those lines were just an example)
This short one took me many, many days and many hours of Additional English classes to write and it may not be much but hey! I wrote a poem!
This poem kind of follows up on my fascination for the enigma that was Syd Barrett. I wasn't too impressed by the earlier Floyd hits like See Emily Play and couldn't really see the fuss everyone made about Syd Barrett (this may also be because of my incomplete knowledge - dunno) but Wish You Were Here is my favourite Pink Floyd album and Shine On You Crazy diamond - very clichéd i know - changed my world.
And hence the amateur attempt at trying to understand the LSD induced hallucinations and torture that destroyed the brilliant career that might have been (but Pink Floyd did just fine! better than fine without him you know..)
Oh and i worked really hard on the meter of the poem and hope for it to be named after me. ( I talk too much and it stops now) and i hope to dear god that this poem doesn't sound pretentious (my worst nightmare)
Welcome.
The hole beckons
Bed of ice, floor of flames
Hands reaching. Bound, by straight jackets
Slime oozes; madness blinds
Shouts unheard fade
Mercy.
Sorry that what i wrote about the poem was shorter than the poem:( but a decent post has to have a certain length you know..
Anindhita
The Unfinished Symphony
I'm posting this story I wrote when i was 12 to remind myself of how it felt to feel as though you could do anything, aspire to anything and you dreamed big. I dreamed of becoming an author - of being read and adored by millions. Now though, i'm plagued with fears and uncertainties and insecurities galore. I no longer want to be a writer. I just want to be my fearless 12 year old self again.
So here goes my wannabe L.M.Montgomery/Meg Cabot attempt (unedited for reasons of authenticity) at a story..what i so lovingly and modestly had named - The Unfinished Symphony (oh thats coz the story was left incomplete) (try and read with a straight face and do please please remember that it was a 12 year old girl who wrote that - I've got to be honest - in earnest and unfortunately not as a spoof. So be kind.)
Chapter 1
It was a fine summer day. The sun smiled down on mellow pastures, blessed the cool green meadows with its warm radiance and even the clouds seemed relaxed and content.
Under the azure blue sky, on the path fated to be one of those many paths which change destinies forever, walked a young girl whose destiny was fated to be changed by that very path. Menley was one of those creatures to whom life is always a warm sunny day. Lucky she was not to know of the other side of the world, which had gone unseen by her carefree, happy eyes. Menley didn’t see the beauty all around her, she moved as if in a dream thinking of the school she was to join that day. Not once did she have an attack of the nerves like any other newcomer might have - Menley was just used to moving around from town to town joining a new school wherever she went.
As she neared the school, she woke from her reverie seeing a gang of boys playing football. A blonde haired boy kicked the ball high and it fell at her feet. Without any hesitation she kicked the ball back and ran to join them. Now Menley, I forgot to mention was a tomboy. She despised girlish behavior of any sort and scorned gossip and girl talk.
Boys, she thought, were fun and uncomplicated and easy to talk to. Girls – bah – were so silly, fickle and never exerted themselves – talk, talk, talk was all they did. The boys just stared at her for a minute and then without a word welcomed her and they played vigorously for half an hour. Menley was just about to score another goal when the bell echoed through the grounds. “Good game”, the blonde haired boy shouted out to her.
All the others nodded at her. Menley was enjoying all this attention when one boy came up to her and said, “Girls should not play football”. She was dumbstruck. Who was this rude boy to come up to her and say such a thing when she had scored most of the goals in the game? No one no one dared speak like this to her! Flames of anger leapt into her eyes. “Well they should - the standard of the game would be much better then”, she shot back, turned around and left with her chin up in the air and her back straight – very haughtily in fact. That was a lie but she had to say something to preserve her honour!
A gang of girls under the shade of the maple tree in the corner of the grounds had been watching the game in progress. “Who is that girl? She is shameless!” “Did you see her doing that flippy flippy kick?” (She was referring to the cycle kick Menley had made)
“Roughing it out with the boys like that and she a new girl! God, no shame!” ”That’s the most disgusting thing I've ever seen in my life!” “Is she mad? What sort of a girl is she? I mean look at her! No dignity at all!”
“I think she's wonderful - I mean she is a new girl and has already made friends with so many.”
At this everybody went quiet. “But Narcy!” one exclaimed.
“Come on girls, it’s so unbelievable for a newcomer to make friends with so many people in half an hour. Of course, I don’t approve of her playing football either. But give her a chance. We hardly know her.” The one and only defender of poor Menley was Narcissa Wentworth. Narcy was the exact opposite of Menley. Narcy was glad to be a girl – proud of it actually. She was not all joy and sunshine like Menley was. I don't mean to say she was depressed and melancholic all the time; she just at times was a bit quiet and sad.
Oh yes - she was also very self-conscious.
All the other girls thought her very confident, sometimes arrogant and fun to be with.
Poor Narcy was never really understood by anybody. All she had for supposedly close friends were Regina, the golden haired princess who always devised means to bring Narcy down from the position of most popular girl of the school. Amber, the mousy, timid and shy slip of a girl who thought the world revolved around Narcy and Anna, the boisterous, noisy big boned red head who thought the world revolved around herself.
Narcy got up and went towards Menley followed by her posse. “Hi, I’m Narcissa Wentworth .What is your name?” “Menley Stonewall”, she said brusquely and walked away.
“I told you she wasn't to be bothered with Narcy”, said Anna with a smug expression on her face. “So arrogant! Did she hurt you dearie?” asked sweet Amber.
“Never mind”, said Narcy, “She looks as though she's angry with something or someone. Now no one can say I didn't try to be friendly. Come on we don't want to be late”
Blahblah High School was one reputed to be unusual and different in their approach to educate children. A lot of stress was applied on freedom of the students and it was more about learning how to live life than learning life itself.
Narcy entered the classroom to see Menley arguing hotly with Jamie Seymour of all people! Usually he was such a nice guy, always laughing and having fun. But then she recalled seeing them talking on the field and she thought that maybe she had annoyed him somehow then.” Break it up people,” Narcy heard a voice behind her and turned to face Miss Longleaf. Narcy liked her and smiled at her. She walked off to a seat beside Amber. “First day of school and both of you fighting?”
“Miss Longleaf ,it's not my fault. She is so conceited that I had to bring her down a notch or two.” Jamie complained.
“Well Mr. Busybody, it’s none of your business how I behave or what I do and I just met you and you think you've already figured me out? Keep out of my life!” Menley cried. The whole class gasped – she was a new girl and was talking like that to Jamie Seymour!
“Why you prickly little thorny bush! I - “ “ENOUGH”, shouted Miss Longleaf. You both are 15 and I won't have u behaving as though you are four. Go sit down and don't let me hear this nonsense anymore.”
Yeah that's how i thought 15 year olds behaved, back then:-)
So here goes my wannabe L.M.Montgomery/Meg Cabot attempt (unedited for reasons of authenticity) at a story..what i so lovingly and modestly had named - The Unfinished Symphony (oh thats coz the story was left incomplete) (try and read with a straight face and do please please remember that it was a 12 year old girl who wrote that - I've got to be honest - in earnest and unfortunately not as a spoof. So be kind.)
Chapter 1
It was a fine summer day. The sun smiled down on mellow pastures, blessed the cool green meadows with its warm radiance and even the clouds seemed relaxed and content.
Under the azure blue sky, on the path fated to be one of those many paths which change destinies forever, walked a young girl whose destiny was fated to be changed by that very path. Menley was one of those creatures to whom life is always a warm sunny day. Lucky she was not to know of the other side of the world, which had gone unseen by her carefree, happy eyes. Menley didn’t see the beauty all around her, she moved as if in a dream thinking of the school she was to join that day. Not once did she have an attack of the nerves like any other newcomer might have - Menley was just used to moving around from town to town joining a new school wherever she went.
As she neared the school, she woke from her reverie seeing a gang of boys playing football. A blonde haired boy kicked the ball high and it fell at her feet. Without any hesitation she kicked the ball back and ran to join them. Now Menley, I forgot to mention was a tomboy. She despised girlish behavior of any sort and scorned gossip and girl talk.
Boys, she thought, were fun and uncomplicated and easy to talk to. Girls – bah – were so silly, fickle and never exerted themselves – talk, talk, talk was all they did. The boys just stared at her for a minute and then without a word welcomed her and they played vigorously for half an hour. Menley was just about to score another goal when the bell echoed through the grounds. “Good game”, the blonde haired boy shouted out to her.
All the others nodded at her. Menley was enjoying all this attention when one boy came up to her and said, “Girls should not play football”. She was dumbstruck. Who was this rude boy to come up to her and say such a thing when she had scored most of the goals in the game? No one no one dared speak like this to her! Flames of anger leapt into her eyes. “Well they should - the standard of the game would be much better then”, she shot back, turned around and left with her chin up in the air and her back straight – very haughtily in fact. That was a lie but she had to say something to preserve her honour!
A gang of girls under the shade of the maple tree in the corner of the grounds had been watching the game in progress. “Who is that girl? She is shameless!” “Did you see her doing that flippy flippy kick?” (She was referring to the cycle kick Menley had made)
“Roughing it out with the boys like that and she a new girl! God, no shame!” ”That’s the most disgusting thing I've ever seen in my life!” “Is she mad? What sort of a girl is she? I mean look at her! No dignity at all!”
“I think she's wonderful - I mean she is a new girl and has already made friends with so many.”
At this everybody went quiet. “But Narcy!” one exclaimed.
“Come on girls, it’s so unbelievable for a newcomer to make friends with so many people in half an hour. Of course, I don’t approve of her playing football either. But give her a chance. We hardly know her.” The one and only defender of poor Menley was Narcissa Wentworth. Narcy was the exact opposite of Menley. Narcy was glad to be a girl – proud of it actually. She was not all joy and sunshine like Menley was. I don't mean to say she was depressed and melancholic all the time; she just at times was a bit quiet and sad.
Oh yes - she was also very self-conscious.
All the other girls thought her very confident, sometimes arrogant and fun to be with.
Poor Narcy was never really understood by anybody. All she had for supposedly close friends were Regina, the golden haired princess who always devised means to bring Narcy down from the position of most popular girl of the school. Amber, the mousy, timid and shy slip of a girl who thought the world revolved around Narcy and Anna, the boisterous, noisy big boned red head who thought the world revolved around herself.
Narcy got up and went towards Menley followed by her posse. “Hi, I’m Narcissa Wentworth .What is your name?” “Menley Stonewall”, she said brusquely and walked away.
“I told you she wasn't to be bothered with Narcy”, said Anna with a smug expression on her face. “So arrogant! Did she hurt you dearie?” asked sweet Amber.
“Never mind”, said Narcy, “She looks as though she's angry with something or someone. Now no one can say I didn't try to be friendly. Come on we don't want to be late”
Blahblah High School was one reputed to be unusual and different in their approach to educate children. A lot of stress was applied on freedom of the students and it was more about learning how to live life than learning life itself.
Narcy entered the classroom to see Menley arguing hotly with Jamie Seymour of all people! Usually he was such a nice guy, always laughing and having fun. But then she recalled seeing them talking on the field and she thought that maybe she had annoyed him somehow then.” Break it up people,” Narcy heard a voice behind her and turned to face Miss Longleaf. Narcy liked her and smiled at her. She walked off to a seat beside Amber. “First day of school and both of you fighting?”
“Miss Longleaf ,it's not my fault. She is so conceited that I had to bring her down a notch or two.” Jamie complained.
“Well Mr. Busybody, it’s none of your business how I behave or what I do and I just met you and you think you've already figured me out? Keep out of my life!” Menley cried. The whole class gasped – she was a new girl and was talking like that to Jamie Seymour!
“Why you prickly little thorny bush! I - “ “ENOUGH”, shouted Miss Longleaf. You both are 15 and I won't have u behaving as though you are four. Go sit down and don't let me hear this nonsense anymore.”
Yeah that's how i thought 15 year olds behaved, back then:-)
Anindhita
MEMORIES
today I visited a place
located deep in the mind
felt a strong presence linger
melody of the love song.
memories awakening,
providing unwanted feelings
only one left so strongly
the feeling of missing you
can't stop myself from remembering;
thniking, of our time together
how is that I'm still able to smile,
when I have got this hint of sadness?
torn by remembering
that you were once mine;
we use to share imaginations
that brought our love to life.
even though it has been a while
it's clear that I haven't forgotten
just know that I never will
because its my heart you got in.
lovlyn
located deep in the mind
felt a strong presence linger
melody of the love song.
memories awakening,
providing unwanted feelings
only one left so strongly
the feeling of missing you
can't stop myself from remembering;
thniking, of our time together
how is that I'm still able to smile,
when I have got this hint of sadness?
torn by remembering
that you were once mine;
we use to share imaginations
that brought our love to life.
even though it has been a while
it's clear that I haven't forgotten
just know that I never will
because its my heart you got in.
lovlyn
JIA - my heart
JIA- my heart
I have an elder sister. We never lived together till last year when I decided to come here. I came here because of her. She is an ordinary girl with an extraordinary will-power. Whenever I am sad or depressed, she supports me. I feel that I am the flower and she is the aroma- she is the essence of my life.
That’s why I call her JIA-which means HEART.
Richa Tomar
I have an elder sister. We never lived together till last year when I decided to come here. I came here because of her. She is an ordinary girl with an extraordinary will-power. Whenever I am sad or depressed, she supports me. I feel that I am the flower and she is the aroma- she is the essence of my life.
That’s why I call her JIA-which means HEART.
Richa Tomar
Jaipur
My Favorite city- JAIPUR
I got a wonderful chance to spend two beautiful years of my school days in Jaipur,the city I fall in love with..
Thinking about Jaipur flashes so many pictures in front of my eyes…
The mouth watering sweets and chaats, the pink walled city with numerous shopping places.
Jaipur is a wonderful blend of traditional and modern living, you can find ladies clad with handful churi’s and ghoonghat and the youngsters with their latest bikes and scooties…
My favorite place is city market-this comprises of bapu bazaar, indira bazaar, Nehru bazaar all consecutively located; for jewelery we have Johri bazaar which itself is made up of numerous lanes for different jewelery types..
Being in Jaipur fills me with immense joy and freshness..
Richa Tomar
I got a wonderful chance to spend two beautiful years of my school days in Jaipur,the city I fall in love with..
Thinking about Jaipur flashes so many pictures in front of my eyes…
The mouth watering sweets and chaats, the pink walled city with numerous shopping places.
Jaipur is a wonderful blend of traditional and modern living, you can find ladies clad with handful churi’s and ghoonghat and the youngsters with their latest bikes and scooties…
My favorite place is city market-this comprises of bapu bazaar, indira bazaar, Nehru bazaar all consecutively located; for jewelery we have Johri bazaar which itself is made up of numerous lanes for different jewelery types..
Being in Jaipur fills me with immense joy and freshness..
Richa Tomar
My journey called LIFE
I read the book THE ALCHEMIST by Paulo Coelho. I like it.
It inspires me to follow my dreams, to work for it and to believe in what I do. I imagine myself at the place of
Though I am not searching for any treasure but i am searching for 'myself'...
a self which is important for an existence, a 'self' which is pure and innocent..and which connects me to the supreme power.
I am traveling a beautiful journey called LIFE...
Richa Tomar
My Best Friend is...
This piece is entirely dedicated to my dog - my little angel sent from above :)
My best friend is my dog. I've always known that. His name's Bravo. I remember the first time he came home, I was in Bhopal, 5 and a half years back. He traveled all the way from Hosur to Bhopal. He is a pedigree Labrador, only, not completely Indian. He is half Danish and half Indian. His looks are amazing and adorable (touch wood)! He has greenish brown eyes and a brown nose. He's a golden Labby.
He was already 3 months by the time he arrived. But, no regrets. He still looked like a puppy (although he was quite tall). We opened the gate and he ran inside. Nothing would've caught my attention better than him. The first thing he did, was not something a new pup would do. He, of course, jumped on me and brought me down. But, he also added a little something extra to that. Although, I wish not to say it, I confess, he pissed on me!!!
Poor little one. He traveled for 3 straight days to be with us. He was hungry and thin. We had prepared ourselves for that luckily, 3 days before he reached us. He was supposed to come a day earlier, as he was my birthday present. But it was delayed. Still, no regrets. It was worth it. Then, he ate the food, mixed with milk. Within 5 minutes, uncontrollably, he pooped on our carpet. But, we laughed. We weren't mad. We completely understood. As it was already night, my brother and I were getting ready for bed. My father came late those days, so my mother would stay awake till then. I wanted to kiss my dog's forehead so badly. But my mother said, "You can kiss him tomorrow, after he has had a shower." I couldn't wait! The funny part was, that night, I slept at the edge of my bed and closed my eyes. I opened them just to get a slight glimpse of my dog. But he had already jumped on the side and was waiting for me to look at him. His tongue was sticking out and he was wagging his tail. It was all of a sudden. I screamed and got up. He got scared too, and ran to the hall with his ears flying and flapping loosely. He skidded and fell! That was so hilarious and cute, I can never forget that.
Over the years, I've never realized that patting a dog would actually give me contentment. And hey! He's the only one who supports me, even when the world seems dead to me. If I'm most likely to go under depression, he's the only one who can console me. And he has that magic in him. Its not by words. Its by that spark in his eyes, that movement of his paws, that sweet, moist nose that touches my cheek when I hug him and the soft fur. He understands if i am sad. He comes to me, lies by my side and looks at me with an expression that reads: "Yes dear, I understand. Come, sit next to me and I'm sure you'll feel better." When I do sit next to him, he puts his paw on my lap as if to say, "Its alright. I'm here. Relax."
He can bring a smile on my face, whenever, wherever. All I gotta do, is sit by him, look into his eyes, hug him, kiss him, and let my emotions out. And it actually makes me feel better!!! I feel renewed.
Its true, what they say... "Nothing can give happiness to a man better than an animal."
and
"A dog is man's best friend."
- Madhuvanthi
My best friend is my dog. I've always known that. His name's Bravo. I remember the first time he came home, I was in Bhopal, 5 and a half years back. He traveled all the way from Hosur to Bhopal. He is a pedigree Labrador, only, not completely Indian. He is half Danish and half Indian. His looks are amazing and adorable (touch wood)! He has greenish brown eyes and a brown nose. He's a golden Labby.
He was already 3 months by the time he arrived. But, no regrets. He still looked like a puppy (although he was quite tall). We opened the gate and he ran inside. Nothing would've caught my attention better than him. The first thing he did, was not something a new pup would do. He, of course, jumped on me and brought me down. But, he also added a little something extra to that. Although, I wish not to say it, I confess, he pissed on me!!!
Poor little one. He traveled for 3 straight days to be with us. He was hungry and thin. We had prepared ourselves for that luckily, 3 days before he reached us. He was supposed to come a day earlier, as he was my birthday present. But it was delayed. Still, no regrets. It was worth it. Then, he ate the food, mixed with milk. Within 5 minutes, uncontrollably, he pooped on our carpet. But, we laughed. We weren't mad. We completely understood. As it was already night, my brother and I were getting ready for bed. My father came late those days, so my mother would stay awake till then. I wanted to kiss my dog's forehead so badly. But my mother said, "You can kiss him tomorrow, after he has had a shower." I couldn't wait! The funny part was, that night, I slept at the edge of my bed and closed my eyes. I opened them just to get a slight glimpse of my dog. But he had already jumped on the side and was waiting for me to look at him. His tongue was sticking out and he was wagging his tail. It was all of a sudden. I screamed and got up. He got scared too, and ran to the hall with his ears flying and flapping loosely. He skidded and fell! That was so hilarious and cute, I can never forget that.
Over the years, I've never realized that patting a dog would actually give me contentment. And hey! He's the only one who supports me, even when the world seems dead to me. If I'm most likely to go under depression, he's the only one who can console me. And he has that magic in him. Its not by words. Its by that spark in his eyes, that movement of his paws, that sweet, moist nose that touches my cheek when I hug him and the soft fur. He understands if i am sad. He comes to me, lies by my side and looks at me with an expression that reads: "Yes dear, I understand. Come, sit next to me and I'm sure you'll feel better." When I do sit next to him, he puts his paw on my lap as if to say, "Its alright. I'm here. Relax."
He can bring a smile on my face, whenever, wherever. All I gotta do, is sit by him, look into his eyes, hug him, kiss him, and let my emotions out. And it actually makes me feel better!!! I feel renewed.
Its true, what they say... "Nothing can give happiness to a man better than an animal."
and
"A dog is man's best friend."
- Madhuvanthi
The Reunion
The car is approaching the house, slowly, thrusting itself up the hill. Its loud purring seems to disturb the silence of the afternoon, but she hears only the thumping of her heart. As the tiny red spot becomes larger and larger, she sees its windows scintillating in the sunlight, announcing his arrival before he can do it himself.
One bead of perspiration after another makes its way slowly down the side of her forehead. The car stops in front of her door. How long has it been? Ten years. What will he think of her now? Her eyes are glued to the door of the car as a tuft of greying hair emerges, followed by grey eyes under thick grey eyebrows...
Their eyes meet.
- Maitri.
The Thunderstorm
- Maitri
Who are "THEY" ???
They stand in front of schools, colleges, shopping malls and even in front of big houses in small localities chewing pan, spitting on the side walk, talking and laughing in loud, raucous tones.
They think they're doing the world a favor(maybe they are) by doing whatever it is, that they do ( talk rudely, demand for highly unreasonable sums of money, tamper with the sanctioned meters and what not).
Anyway we all work to earn a living (ok I don't big deal, my father still does!) in the process we all may lie, we all may cheat, we all may make mistakes (trying not to be a hypocrite by stating my own mistakes) BUT is this all we do (lie, cheat and make mistakes) ??? (nope) the answer is loud and clear. But these people (the one's who stand in front of schools, colleges etc) this is all they are eagerly waiting to do all day long. So now we know if hell exists(maybe it does, wow now I'm scared), who's going there first and who's going to the darkest, deepest abyss of it . "THEY" are going there without a doubt , with the rest of the rotten-minded jerks out there.
Jokes apart, you've been reading this article (if you could call it that) for the past minute or so asking yourself who this "THEY" are ??? or some of you would have already guessed who they are, but just for those who haven't quiet figured it out yet and also for my own mental satisfaction let me tell you who "THEY' are . "THEY" are none other than our very own , thieving and pretentious auto drivers, bloody auto drivers (filth filled moronic hags) who should be suspended on public lamp posts and shot with infested shit balls!!! I'm sure most of you agree :P
P.S: i)Learn to drive car/two-wheeler
ii)Use public transport
iii)Walk (you'll lose weight)
iv)Ok take an auto if its a life/death situation(oh they may say 'NO' so have a back-up plan
ALWAYS)
Hahahahaha ... hope you enjoyed reading this one :)
-Rebecca.
They think they're doing the world a favor(maybe they are) by doing whatever it is, that they do ( talk rudely, demand for highly unreasonable sums of money, tamper with the sanctioned meters and what not).
Anyway we all work to earn a living (ok I don't big deal, my father still does!) in the process we all may lie, we all may cheat, we all may make mistakes (trying not to be a hypocrite by stating my own mistakes) BUT is this all we do (lie, cheat and make mistakes) ??? (nope) the answer is loud and clear. But these people (the one's who stand in front of schools, colleges etc) this is all they are eagerly waiting to do all day long. So now we know if hell exists(maybe it does, wow now I'm scared), who's going there first and who's going to the darkest, deepest abyss of it . "THEY" are going there without a doubt , with the rest of the rotten-minded jerks out there.
Jokes apart, you've been reading this article (if you could call it that) for the past minute or so asking yourself who this "THEY" are ??? or some of you would have already guessed who they are, but just for those who haven't quiet figured it out yet and also for my own mental satisfaction let me tell you who "THEY' are . "THEY" are none other than our very own , thieving and pretentious auto drivers, bloody auto drivers (filth filled moronic hags) who should be suspended on public lamp posts and shot with infested shit balls!!! I'm sure most of you agree :P
P.S: i)Learn to drive car/two-wheeler
ii)Use public transport
iii)Walk (you'll lose weight)
iv)Ok take an auto if its a life/death situation(oh they may say 'NO' so have a back-up plan
ALWAYS)
Hahahahaha ... hope you enjoyed reading this one :)
-Rebecca.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
I knew it was you
Hey guys... This is a poem I thought I'd write, just like that.
Started off on an internet chat
Spoke for hours together;
I'm sure no one can beat that
As it was longer than a day.
We exchanged phone numbers
To talk and know our voices;
And I was munching on cucumbers
While having a nice chat.
We planned on meeting pretty soon
We both were equally excited.
In excitement, I dropped my metal spoon,
And it hit the ground with a "ting".
We met at a rehearsal of a song
We both were motionless;
As if we'd known each other too long,
When it'd only been a month.
Days went by and time flew.
You started loving me.
You finally said, "I love you".
I was shocked, as were you.
I never took it seriously
Until time showed me way;
I loved talking to you continuously
And like that, it went on.
I had a person on my mind
But then you walked in too.
I was confused, I had to find;
If it were him or you.
Although I've told you plenty of times
That I love him, not you,
I begin to feel, over those times
That it's not him, it's you.
And only then, we have to fight!
The annoying life's surprise.
It's then I realized, I was wrong and you were right
I think I love you now.
And now you say you don't love me
Because I love him.
How do I explain this? You see,
No, it's only you.
I hate to admit love because
I want to live innocent
Till the time I get married, because
I hate to worry my parents.
I was wrong in telling you
I love him, not you.
I was mad, for the way you,
Spoke the other night.
I know, you meant it as a joke
But, it really hurt me bad.
And now, I know I can't evoke
A feeling of love again.
I knew it was you. Yes, I did.
But I still can't say, "I love you"
As I want to live innocent, like I already said
Else I'd break my daddy's heart.
Now do you get me?
Why I can't confess?
What if you leave me?
I can't take another regret.
Let's be friends for the time being
Later, we'll figure out the rest.
-Madhuvanthi
Started off on an internet chat
Spoke for hours together;
I'm sure no one can beat that
As it was longer than a day.
We exchanged phone numbers
To talk and know our voices;
And I was munching on cucumbers
While having a nice chat.
We planned on meeting pretty soon
We both were equally excited.
In excitement, I dropped my metal spoon,
And it hit the ground with a "ting".
We met at a rehearsal of a song
We both were motionless;
As if we'd known each other too long,
When it'd only been a month.
Days went by and time flew.
You started loving me.
You finally said, "I love you".
I was shocked, as were you.
I never took it seriously
Until time showed me way;
I loved talking to you continuously
And like that, it went on.
I had a person on my mind
But then you walked in too.
I was confused, I had to find;
If it were him or you.
Although I've told you plenty of times
That I love him, not you,
I begin to feel, over those times
That it's not him, it's you.
And only then, we have to fight!
The annoying life's surprise.
It's then I realized, I was wrong and you were right
I think I love you now.
And now you say you don't love me
Because I love him.
How do I explain this? You see,
No, it's only you.
I hate to admit love because
I want to live innocent
Till the time I get married, because
I hate to worry my parents.
I was wrong in telling you
I love him, not you.
I was mad, for the way you,
Spoke the other night.
I know, you meant it as a joke
But, it really hurt me bad.
And now, I know I can't evoke
A feeling of love again.
I knew it was you. Yes, I did.
But I still can't say, "I love you"
As I want to live innocent, like I already said
Else I'd break my daddy's heart.
Now do you get me?
Why I can't confess?
What if you leave me?
I can't take another regret.
Let's be friends for the time being
Later, we'll figure out the rest.
-Madhuvanthi
as the clock turns back...
I open the door softly and tiptoe into the room. Looking towards the window, I see the silhouette stretched out on the bed. Satisfied, I turn around to leave the room and stop, rooted to the spot.
A streak of moonlight shines into the room through a gap in the curtains. It falls on a little photograph standing by the closet. Soft brown eyes, so like my own, look affectionately down upon me. As a wave of emotion surges up within me, I close my eyes. My thoughts begin to whirl, to rewind. Stop. I see those same brown eyes in front of me, now looking up at me...
Wisps of grey hair fall on a wrinkled face. The firm chin and smiling lips are no longer as in the photograph, but sagging with age. Yet, those eyes are sparkling with a vitality so youthful that it amazes me. So much is communicated as they simply look into mine.
As the small rough hand clasped in mine tightens its grip, I feel the warmth that the voice and lips are unable to express. The hand is burning with heat and my heart skips a beat as I try to suppress the thought that it will soon be cold...
My heart is being wrenched like a wet cloth. The eyes, still looking into mine, seem to sense my grief. As they become milder and envelop me with tenderness and love, all the happy days of the past rush into my head, making my distress harder than ever to bear.
With a final glance at me, they close.
My eyes open with a start. Gazing into my depths from the picture, like pools of warm honey, are the same enchanting eyes.
- Maitri
How Smart is your right foot?
HOW SMART IS YOUR RIGHT FOOT??
TRY THIS OUT!
This is Hysterical. It is absolutely true. It takes 2 seconds.
Its from an orthopedic Surgeon. This will confuse your mind and you will keep trying over and over again to check if you can outsmart your foot, But you can't. Its pre-programmed in your brain!
1. While sitting at your desk in front of your Computer/Laptop, lift your right foot off the floor and make clockwise circles.
2. Now, while doing this. Draw number '6' in the air with your right hand. Your foot will change direction ;)
Hehe!! I told u so. And there's nothing you can do about it :P
TRY THIS OUT!
This is Hysterical. It is absolutely true. It takes 2 seconds.
Its from an orthopedic Surgeon. This will confuse your mind and you will keep trying over and over again to check if you can outsmart your foot, But you can't. Its pre-programmed in your brain!
1. While sitting at your desk in front of your Computer/Laptop, lift your right foot off the floor and make clockwise circles.
2. Now, while doing this. Draw number '6' in the air with your right hand. Your foot will change direction ;)
Hehe!! I told u so. And there's nothing you can do about it :P
-Waseema
10 reasons why baking is fun! :)
1. It is relaxing
2. The smell while baking is different and unmatched (one word : AMAZING!)
3. You can freely expel your
creative energy.
4. Whipping up ingredents together is fun
5. The ingredents itself are fun to shop for .Makes you feel like your on an adventurous journey to find all your clues gather them in your basket before others can lay their hands on them ;)
6. The product is the result of your hardwork.7. Watching the flour rise is exciting.
8. When simple things like butter and cocoa etc mix its so amazing to see the final product which is something completely different and beautiful.
9. Glossy cakes,cookies, breads etc....Who doesnt love them ;)
10. They taste Heavenly :P~
Rishika :)
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
God, men and women
One fine day God comes down, walks into the world and says :-
"I want the men to form two queues, one line for the men who had control over their women, and the other one for the men who were controlled by their women. Also, I want all the women to go away so that no man and woman can talk."
Next time God comes back, the women are gone, and there are two lines. The line for the men who were controlled by their women is 100 miles long, and in the line of men who had control over their women there is only one man
God gets mad and says, "You men should be ashamed of yourselves. I created you in my image, and you were all controlled by your mates. Look at the only one of my sons who stood up and made me proud. Learn from him!" "Tell them, my son, how did you manage to be the only one in this line?"
The man replies,
"I don't know, my wife told me to stand here."
"I want the men to form two queues, one line for the men who had control over their women, and the other one for the men who were controlled by their women. Also, I want all the women to go away so that no man and woman can talk."
Next time God comes back, the women are gone, and there are two lines. The line for the men who were controlled by their women is 100 miles long, and in the line of men who had control over their women there is only one man
God gets mad and says, "You men should be ashamed of yourselves. I created you in my image, and you were all controlled by your mates. Look at the only one of my sons who stood up and made me proud. Learn from him!" "Tell them, my son, how did you manage to be the only one in this line?"
The man replies,
"I don't know, my wife told me to stand here."
-Anisha Peter
I WILL SURVIVE
first I was afraid,
I was petrified
kept thinking I could never live
without you by my side
But I spent so many nights
thinking how you did me wrong
I GREW STRONG
I learned how to carry on
and so you're back
from outer space
I just walked in to find you here
with that sad look upon your face
I should have changed my stupid lock
I should have made you leave your key
If I had known for just one second
you'd be back to bother me
Go on now, go walk out the door
just turn aroung now
'cause you're not welcome any more
weren't you the one, who tried to hurt me with GOODBYE??
you think I'd crumble
you think I'd lay down and die?
oh no, not I
I WILL SURVIVE
as long as I know how to love
I know I will stay alive
I've got all my life to live
I've got all my love to give
and I will survive.
It took all the strength I had
not to fall apart
kept trying hard to mend
the pieces of my broken heart
and I spent so many nights
just feeling sorry for myself
I used to cry,
NOW i hold my head up high
and you see me, somebody new
I'm not that chained up little girl
still in love with you,
and so you felt like dropping in
and just expect me to be free
now I'm saving all my love
for someone who's loving me
-lovlyn
I was petrified
kept thinking I could never live
without you by my side
But I spent so many nights
thinking how you did me wrong
I GREW STRONG
I learned how to carry on
and so you're back
from outer space
I just walked in to find you here
with that sad look upon your face
I should have changed my stupid lock
I should have made you leave your key
If I had known for just one second
you'd be back to bother me
Go on now, go walk out the door
just turn aroung now
'cause you're not welcome any more
weren't you the one, who tried to hurt me with GOODBYE??
you think I'd crumble
you think I'd lay down and die?
oh no, not I
I WILL SURVIVE
as long as I know how to love
I know I will stay alive
I've got all my life to live
I've got all my love to give
and I will survive.
It took all the strength I had
not to fall apart
kept trying hard to mend
the pieces of my broken heart
and I spent so many nights
just feeling sorry for myself
I used to cry,
NOW i hold my head up high
and you see me, somebody new
I'm not that chained up little girl
still in love with you,
and so you felt like dropping in
and just expect me to be free
now I'm saving all my love
for someone who's loving me
-lovlyn
Bill Watterson : Journey with Calvin and Hobbes
Like most people, Bill Watterson did not have instant success with his passion for cartooning. Instead, it was something he did in his spare time whilst working in an advertising job to pay the bills.
Many strip ideas were considered by Watterson and submitted to various syndicates. After several rejections, he did receive some positive feedback around one strip that featured a side character called 'Marvin' (the little brother of the main character) who had a stuffed tiger. Encouraged by the feedback, Watterson reworked his idea for the strip to focus on these characters.
The first strip was published on November 18, 1985. Whilst it had taken a while for Watterson to get published, within a year of syndication, Calvin and Hobbes was being published in around 250 newspapers and in wide circulation around the world. In this sense, Calvin and Hobbes was an 'instant' success.
Accolades for Watterson soon flowed in. Watterson twice received the Reuben Award for Outstanding Cartoonist of the Year from the National Cartoonists Society (1986 and 1988, and nominated in 1992). In 1988 the Society awarded him the Humor Comic Strip Award. Watterson was also featured in the Los Angeles Times, one of the major newspapers in the USA, in 1987.
Sadly, after a decade of strips, Watterson decided to call it quits. He sent a letter in 1995 to all editors whose newspapers carried his strip:
I will be stopping Calvin and Hobbes at the end of the year. This was not a recent or an easy decision, and I leave with some sadness. My interests have shifted however, and I believe I've done what I can do within the constraints of daily deadlines and small panels. I am eager to work at a more thoughtful pace, with fewer artistic compromises. I have not yet decided on future projects, but my relationship with Universal Press Syndicate will cont
inue.That so many newspapers would carry Calvin and Hobbes is an honor I'll long be proud of, and I've greatly appreciated your support and indulgence over the last decade. Drawing this comic strip has been a privilege and a pleasure, and I thank you for giving me the opportunity.
The 3,160th and final strip, "It's a magical world, Hobbes ol' buddy!", ran on Sunday, December 31, 1995. It depicted Calvin and Hobbes outside in freshly-fallen snow, reveling in the wonder and excitement of the winter scene. The last panel shows Calvin and Hobbes zooming off on their sled as Calvin exclaims. "Let's go exploring!". It was a beautiful and fitting way to end one of the greatest comic strips that have ever been drawn.
Before one million comes one
This is a song written by an Indian metal band called Motherjane.
There was one
who gave dignity to the dying
who brought hope to the living
There was one
who gave to a different degree
who proved with certainty,
that before one million comes one.
There was one
who gave a handful and a smile
who brought rest for just a while
There was one
who did what was possible
who took small sacrifices
and built a miracle
There was one, now there are a million
There was one, now there are a million
Coz when the horizon of a desert speaks of an ocean
A rain cloud is god sent, a raindrop is ecstasy
before one million comes one,
each similar to a different degree.
Anisha Peter
There was one
who gave dignity to the dying
who brought hope to the living
There was one
who gave to a different degree
who proved with certainty,
that before one million comes one.
There was one
who gave a handful and a smile
who brought rest for just a while
There was one
who did what was possible
who took small sacrifices
and built a miracle
There was one, now there are a million
There was one, now there are a million
Coz when the horizon of a desert speaks of an ocean
A rain cloud is god sent, a raindrop is ecstasy
before one million comes one,
each similar to a different degree.
Anisha Peter
Visuals :)
~ When my lens becomes my eye ~
Scarlet
When the sky decided the burn...
Pa ra pa pa paaa... *I'm lovin it!*
to *C* : food lovers ;)
~Sigma Mall
The enlightened leaf!
Lost in the concrete jungle!
~Krithika .R.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)