Mother !

I had to share this one! 

It was 12th of November , two thousand something. Glittering earthen pots lit up my house, my neighbors’ house, practically the whole city and more. It seemed as if the sky had been upturned and the twinkling stars had fallen on earth. The occasion was ‘Chotti Diwali’ – as auspicious as a day could be.

My lovely mother, my father and myself had decided to burn firecrackers in the adjacent building – a building under construction, a building that belonged to us, a building that was soon to be lit up by my mother’s efforts and a number of earthen lamps. My sister, being the eco friendly one, had decided to stay back and enjoy the television shows instead.

Everything was nearly perfect. My mother followed my footsteps as I lead her upstairs. She had decided to light up the first floor as my father decided to walk on to the third one. Climbing up the first flight of stairs, beckoning to my mother, I took a 90 degree turn and started ascending the second one. But before I could lose sight of my mother, I saw her walk on straight instead of turning behind me.  I froze in horror as she disappeared in front of my eyes, right into the lift well built. She went down into the void of the well, with the lighted earthen pots filled with oil.

As the horror crept in, chilling me to the bone, the clatter of the fallen plate filled with pots filled my cold ears. I gave a horrified scream of terror. I yelled and yelled till my throat was dry and it hurt. Like needles, my own voice pricked my throat as I kept calling for her. My father rushed to me, leave alone my father – the whole neighborhood had collected near the dark building. Not a voice from my mother was heard. Rushing down I pulled my sister to the site, like a boy gone crazy. I was too worked up to speak. The lower half of the building, where mum had fallen, was filled with pointed nails, wooden pipes and other horrid things.

The worst part was my mother had never uttered a word. Was she ok?

When we finally reached back to the site, me and my sister, I saw my mother seated on a chair, all the neighbors clustered around her, her leg bleeding and resting on another chair, her face flinched up in pain.694138

But can anybody guess what she said when she saw us? Her very words were, “Are you children mad, have you locked the front door? Left it open as a feast to the robbers or what?” We were too surprised to speak, too relieved that she was ok, too shocked at her typical orders. She was still in her senses, rather she acted more sensible as compared to us. She had to undergo a severe operation later on, she’d broken two of her ribs and a hairline crack was spotted on her left leg. Her left side had loads of bruises.

Nobody knows how, what, why, etc of the accident and its purpose. But seeing her carry herself for the months of bed rest prescribed by the doc, I learnt that a mother is the most indispensible part of a family. She is the one who selflessly works not for herself but for the well being of our family. She used to wake up every morning at 4 to oversee that we go to school properly. She never abandoned her duties as a wife or a mother throughout, gulping down the pain she always was there for us.

A salute to her and all other mothers!

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Happy Birthday to Being Me

It’s 8th of April today! 4 days before my birthday. It’s my Blog’s birthday!!! Yay!

Blogging had been an impulsive decision on my part and I’m so glad that I chose to have a blog because writing here, making friends, doing tasks related to blogging have been one of the best experiences of my life.

This escape from reality to a little world of my own has been a blissful blessing and I thank each and every one of you out there who made this place heaven for me. My followers, blog mates, friends, acquaintances – each and every one of you who ever visited my blog, left comments (good or bad) and gave this blog a life  – thank you!
Stay blessed.
Stay tuned.
Keep smiling 🙂

Samaira – A work of fictioN!

This is one of my worst posts I know!


 

It was still dawn when I stepped out of the cab and walked towards the entry gate of the Delhi airport. The early morning February air was pleasantly cold.

I was travelling to Bengaluru to attend a college friend’s wedding. It had been four years since we graduated from the same college. This wedding was also going to be a reunion of our batch mates. But what I didn’t know was that the reunion would begin much ahead of time; right in the queue in front of the airline counter.

I was almost sure it was she. Same height! Same long hair! Same complexion! Curiosity had my eyes glued to her. And then about 60-odd seconds later, when she turned, she proved me right. My ex-girlfriend stood two places ahead of me in that queue. We had never met after the college farewell.

She scanned the airport, clearly looking for somebody. Her searching eyes passed over me. Just passed. She never noticed me. Or maybe she did and had decided to ignore me…I never knew.

A few minutes later, as I leaned back and closed my eyes in the waiting area, aware of her presence within a few yards, memories of the year 2012 pulled me in. The college farewell, the tears, the smiles, the promises floated back to me. But in the midst of them all, I stumbled upon that well avoided part of my mental book of memories which I had dreaded ever since the college farewell.

The breakup!I_Love_You_2.jpg

Well, it wasn’t really a breakup, I reminded myself. I had dumped her cruelly.

An involuntary sigh escaped me as the despair of 2012 started seeping in once again. I had, by now, accepted the fact that I had acted like a self centered, attention seeking, and egoistic pig. And I hadn’t yet apologized for my mistakes, owing to my male pride.

But now, when the only girl for whom my heart had fluttered was sitting yards away from me, a sheer sense of shamefulness engulfed me.

Samaira, I think this is the right time for us to…to walk towards our own goals”, I had whispered to her in the farewell.

“What do you mean?”

“I think we should move on. I mean, I no longer want this relationship. My life goals are different. And you don’t fit in there!”

And like the perfect pervert I was, I had expected her to fall down on her knees, to beg me to stay, to shed tears for me.

But, like the sensible girl she’d always been, she had turned towards me with the words, “I won’t be able to live without you! The rest is your choice.”

I had walked off, never to return.

But every conscious moment of my life had been spent thinking about her voice, her smell, her talks, her secrets, her habits…about her!

And today, after 4 long years, she was finally right in front of me. She had never operated her facebook, her whatsapp or any other social media application since that fateful year. Yet, here she was, her eyes glued to her smart phone as she kept pushing her bangs off her face.

She hated bangs and had always avoided getting “flicks” during a haircut, I remembered. But times change, and so do people, I thought.

A black clad young fellow entered the area and almost blocked my view of her as he leaned down to whisper something over her shoulder. She shook her head and went back to typing on her phone as the man occupied the seat beside her. An ardent desire to punch him in the face rose in me as he pulled her close and held her by the shoulders while she rested her head on his shoulder.

It struck me harder than an act of blasphemy would strike a priest; harder than the apple struck Newton (whereby he gave whacky formulae to the world); harder than Cabrera’s bat struck the ball, as he leaned down to kiss her. With a frown scrunching up my dark circles to look darker, I watched on as she kissed him back and went back to her phone.

She had moved on. I had not.

The stark reality was harder than what I had imagined. I still loved her, but she didn’t. She had moved on!

They stuck together like Munchkin county Cows throughout the journey. I tried hard not to look, but failed terribly.

Once in Bengaluru and into the hotel I was booked on, I decided to push away thoughts of Samaira and the guy and enjoy the wedding.

We, my batch mates and I, had decided to meet up at Ahana’s place – a resident of Bengaluru itself.

For a minute, amongst hugs and handshakes, I had completely forgotten about Sam. But then, I saw the black clad fellow from the airport there. He was dressed up in a jeans and a shirt and was walking straight towards me.

“Rohan! My brother!” he greeted me. I looked on, completely perplexed, as he took my hands in his. I never knew him…did I?

I looked around for Samaira, but she was nowhere to be seen.

“Rohan? You recognized me right?” he asked, noting my baffled glances.

“Rohan!” he shook me repeatedly by the hand, and amongst the buzz of reunion I did something that I probably shouldn’t have.

Wham!

I punched him in the face. Right on his nose.

He took a step back. The hall grew silent. Every eye was on me. I looked around at those faces that I had known so well and then at the one standing in front of me. I wanted to apologize but a surge of emotions refrained me from doing so.

I staggered back a step or two, heading for the door. Heading out of the silent mob of stares and accusing glances. My eyes met Riya’s, Samaira’s best friend. They were glowing with rebuke. Why? Just because I had left Samaira for no particular reason? I wanted to yell out that Sam was happy, and that she should mind her own business.

But I walked off silently. Outside the building, a pleasant breeze cooled my brow. Digging my hands into my pant pockets, I walked on aimlessly into the ignominious darkness of an alley.

I couldn’t digest the fact that she didn’t whine for me, that she didn’t try to contact me. Maybe it was my “male ego”, as she used say long ago.

“Rohan!” I heard a distant voice. A woman’s voice. I turned around to find Riya standing at the alleyway entrance.

“Riya? Is that you…?” I asked, mentally wincing at my stupid question.

“No, this is Sam’s ghost reporting!” she yelled back. Lame!

“What do you want?” I fired.

“Your blood!” she retorted. Super lame!

I jogged back to her, unwillingly.

She looked me in the eye, “You punched Yash.”

A look of horror crept up my face as my feet grew cold. It was Yash!

He had been Sam’s neighbor and our batch mate and a good friend of mine for the couple of years he had been in our college. After a student exchange program, we had never met. Moreover, his clean shaved face and the fit built was nowhere near what he used to be years ago.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, “but it’s none of your business.”

The fact that Yash was with Sam was even harder to digest.

“Were you born a defaulter? I wish you wouldn’t have entered our lives in the first place Rohan! Do you have any idea about the amount of hate I currently carry for you!?” she looked at me, apparently expecting an answer.

I felt sick and a deep knot tightened in my stomach.

“You never even turned up at her funeral…” she almost whispered. I was a bit surprised to find tears welling up in her dark eyes.

“Funeral? Whose funeral?” I questioned.

She turned to hide her tears as a male voice replied, “Sam’s funeral.”

Yash stood behind her, a few drops of red staining the region below his nose which had been blood wiped off hastily.

“Sam’s funeral? What are you guys talking about?”

It was probably a mistake because at that very instant Riya turned at around said something under her breath and I was positive that her look alone could kill.

“Rohan…we need to talk”.

5 minutes later, the mild afternoon sun found us sitting in the Home Town Café with three untouched lattes kept on the table before us.

“Ok so I’m going against Riya and telling you something that I guess you need to know,” Yash said, breaking the awkward silence.

I nodded.

“Rohan, you remember the college farewell?” he started.

“Who wouldn’t,” Riya sliced in.

“You remember you went off to Delhi after the farewell, right?” Yash continued.

“Of course he does, you douche bag!” Riya interrupted again.

“You know what Sam did after that?”

I shook my head.

“She boarded a plane to come to you to Delhi. She wanted to see you for the last time,” Riya said, her voice still cold.

“But she never came to me…” I said, slowly.

“She never reached you Rohan,” Yash continued, “Remember the 2012 plane crash near Rohra?”

I shook my head again, my throat going dry.

“Do you live in a wild life sanction or don’t you have TV and a newspaper subscription?” Riya questioned, her tone cold enough to freeze steam into pointed icicles.

“Sam was on that plane,” Yash stated.

“She…did she die?” my voice croaked, my throat was dry and even the slightest effort to talk hurt in my stomach.

“No, not right away,” Riya answered, “She got a back injury. Her spinal cord was adversely affected and she went into abdominal coma for a few weeks. The doctors said that the operation involved could kill her.”

I was silent. The whole world seemed to be silent as Yash continued, “Sam had made friends with a girl in the plane. Her name’s Aanchal. She was with her master as a maid. When the plane crashed, the master died. And Aanchal was kept in the same hospital as Sam. For weeks no one came to take her responsibility. According to Sam, Aanchal was an orphan.”

I nodded again.

“Aanchal’s face was distorted. Completely. Sam knew that she was dying and so she requested her parents to adopt Aanchal as their own daughter,” Yash stopped to take a breath.

“Wait Yash, he ought to know Sam’s word,” turning to me Riya continued, “She said she had no will to stay alive after losing you. She asked Uncle to get Aanchal’s face done up. She wished Aanchal would have HER face. And she gave up her eyes to Aanchal. Aanchal has taken her place now…”

“You mean…the girl I saw you with was Aanchal?” I questioned, cautious not to meet Riya’s stare.

“Yes,” Yash replied.

“Rohan, do even feel a tiny bit of guilt residing in you? Why…why did you leave her in the first place? Were you tired of her? You had used her to the highest level possible and found her useless? Was it the reason?” Riya bombarded me with questions, half of which were lost in a jumble of words within my brain.

I wanted to yell at her to stop. I wanted to tell her how much I had loved Sam, how much I longed for her right then. I opened my mouth but no words came out. I couldn’t make sense of anything for a while

Sam was dead, and this was the hardest of blows I had had this week. Sam died on the way to meet ME.

I’d never see her again. All because of me!

“Can I …meet Anchal?” I whispered.

“No Rohan. You took away Sam from us. This is her second chance to life and we can’t let you spoil that,” Riya hissed before getting up to leave.

“Being a man is ok. But being a beast is not. Pride is ok, Rohan, ego is just not! Grow up man,” Yash said, before leaving.

Grow up…maybe I had to.

 

 

 

One Lovely Blog Award

Time for Awards! Yay!!!!
This time, it’s a  new one. It’s called the “One Lovely Blog Award!”

Thanks Phoenix…09 for this pat on the back (check out this lovely blog!)

Here are the rules (copied as it is) :

Thank the person who nominated you and include a link to their blog. 

List the rules and display the award. 

Add 7 facts about yourself. 

Nominate 15 other bloggers and..

Leave a comment on one of their posts to let them know they have been nominated.


7 Facts about me:

  1. I love chocolate. I’m crazy about chocolate. Dark chocolate, light chocolate, white chocolate – name it and I love it.
  2. I’m the laziest girl alive (or so my mother thinks)
  3. I’m passionate about computers and everything related to the digital world.
  4. I live in a big town/small city and I hate this place. Not because of lack of facilities or too much of pollution but because 60% of the residents here are either too fickle minded or too bull-headed. So development is really hard to achieve.
  5. I’m addicted to books.
  6. I’m very bad at keeping resolutions (not just the new year ones but in general all of them!)
  7. I love each and every creation of god. I’m too lazy to elaborate on this one!

 Now comes the nomination part. Here I’d state that each and every one of the blogs out there are lovely!!

I won’t be nominating anybody particular as people hardly accept it nowadays! But if you’d like to follow the chain, feel free to! If I follow you, you’re pretty awesome to me!

Apologies Phoenix…09 for the delay! Thank you once again for this beautiful nomination!

 

 

Lines from a book I’ll never complete!

Hola mates!
I was going through short excerpts written by me. I was stunned by a few and laughed at others. I decided to start posting them here, so here I go…

You’re the guy of my dreams
The one for whom my heart beats
You’re the one who makes me smile
Cry n jump n run a mile

Sorry m not a poet.
But yes I can write. I can write my heart out. And even as I write this m sure you’ll get wat I want to pass on. I love u.
Today I know wat love is. It’s not a distraction but a motivation to do better …its not physical touch but the emotional support.
My heart beats for you. My mind searches for u. My eyes look for u. I cherish our memories with care.
I promise u  I won’t let my shadow leave you. I won’t let your hand go away from mine. I won’t let this heart beat for another guy. You know why?
Coz you …yes you  …have stolen my peace. No more am I at ease. I love u ..n I want your love back ♡
I can write forever about your beautiful fragrance, dazzling smile, strong personality and a winning nature.
I can write forever about our stupid fights and our silly jokes.
I can write forever about how much you mean to me.
I can write forever about YOU.
But that’s not the point to be highlighted. You know wat is?
That I’d always write for you.
Only for you.
Coz I love you.

*no one’s supposed to get personal over that*

Atrocities of ‘CC’

Hello everybody!

Firstly, thanks for giving me so many followers!! Love each and every one of you! Thank you for the booming stats too!

As promised, I’ll be talking about the atrocities of coaching classes today (this will, probably, be the last post on teenagers and their mental status in India).

In India, 99 out 100 school kids attend a coaching institute (CC or COACHING CLASSES) right from the age of 6 or probably less! (Millenials, hold on, I’m talking about THIS generation! The alphas!)

So, it’s like out of 24 hrs, 6 hrs are spent in school, 8 hrs of sleeping and 4 hrs are spent in the coaching institutes. The rest of the 6 hours are spent eating, bathing and doing the enormous amounts of homework given by these coaching institutes. It’s not like they charge a feeble amount or something. Their fees shoot up to a lakh or more per annum. And that definitely is ridiculous!

But the funnier part is yet to come. This amount is paid by the hard working parents to the institutes NOT for a better career guidance to their kids but to provide RECREATION to the kids!

The situation today is something like this : The coaching registers are neat whereas we don’t even have a register for school. The coaching homework is done sincerely whereas we don’t ATTEND school. We have a 100% attendance throughout the year in the coaching classes, whereas we strive to complete the 75% compalsurized (is there such a word?) by school. Why?

Because, of course, coaching is more fun! You meet different people, have  no disciplinary actions taken against you and you’re waited on hand and foot there! You think this will help you get into your favourite college? Lol! I mock you poor ridiculous kids! Ever thought about those village boys who got into IIT and made news the previous year? What about the super 30?  They didn’t have a lakh to pay! Yet they’re doing better than you.

Now to those who manage to finally get into the IITs by getting tutored by these centres of education : How successful are you in life? If you think money is success and since you earn a good amount you’re successful, lemme clarify that you’re wrong. Of course everybody has a different definition to what success is, but basically it’s the good outcome of an undertaking. And money is not it.

Success is when you do something other than filing papers in a huge company. Success is when you construct a building that’s flawless, success is when you make a medicine that eradicates the need to go to a doctor often, success is when you find means of saving lives, success is when you THINK and make a change, success is when you make this world a better place.

The coaching centres are giving us knowledge without understanding. You think doing 150 numericals an hour is education? No! The proof that you’ve truly learnt something isn’t getting all of those 150 answers right. The actual proof comes when you can EXPLAIN the concept of at least one of those numericals to a complete lay person. But I know that half of the times you yourself don’t know it!

I agree I myself go to coaching classes, 4 hrs a day. Why you’d ask, eh? Just keeping up with the fad!

I haven’t joined a fancy air conditioned famous academy where I gotta pay a lakh per year, but I definitely have joined an academy. And trust me, it disheartens me to see the state of students there. Basically, to fulfil my dreams and somehow beat those ‘over smart’ pieces of printed encyclopaedias (I mean the students who can do 150 questions an hour),  to my favorite college I NEED to cheat. And hence I find myself in these classes.

Recently, there have been a number of issues regarding these classes. A boy A (check my previous posts ) committed suicide recently. His well wishers claim that it’s the physics teacher who forced him to join his private tuitions and the pressure eventually killed the child. The city calls him a ‘dalal’  (never mind the translation – just that it’s not a kind word). Well, to those city dwellers I question, who encouraged the rise of coaching classes? This physics teacher killed one student (I hope it’s not true), but the other ‘dalals’ like R and M (I’m sure some of you know what I’m talking about and to my foreign friend’s I’d say these are some great coaching institutes down here) are DESTROYING thousands of students. They’re ruining their career. Do you guys do anything about it.

The other day a boy claimed it isn’t abnormal for teenagers to drink and smoke now. To that boy I’d say : It IS abnormal man! It isn’t the age! Look where it landed poor A. It causes lack of emotional and mental stability! And these coaching centres are where bad habits breed!

Some of you would say that it’s purely on the teen to be a good child or a bad one. But I’d oppose that. Teenagers are emotionally imbalanced and have little say when bad habits are enforced on them. Trend is something they tend to adopt and when addiction is the latest trend, you can’t blame the teen !

As aware citizens of democratic India, it is OUR responsibility to stop this business called coaching (sounds so much like poaching!). Bug your school teachers, take the help of books and internet. Raise YOUR standards and not the amount you pay. I call out to those revolutionaries out there participating in candle marches : march against these ‘dalals’. Student force has a lot of power, if only it’s directed towards the right issues!

Wake up. Make this place a better one. Get a life. Dance, play, live, learn. Don’t mug up.

Enjoy life because you only live once.

Suiciders

The past few days have been hard for a number of people down here. A charming young boy committing suicide ain’t no joke! But in the light of this incident, I learnt a lot. While doing my research and interacting with people real time, I gotta know that reality and truth isn’t always appreciated.

Anyway, keeping all that aside, I’ve got a request to all those out there reading this and trying to get to me indirectly : If you guys have got the guts, speak to me personally instead of taking the aid of people who know me! Thank you!

Now, for those who aren’t aware of my last post : A boy ‘A’ (for discretion),16, committed suicide on 8th of March without stating his reason and now the whole city thinks the education system, teachers and schools are the villains.

To those who think the above statement is true and stuff : I’d like to point out that in the past week THREE students committed suicide in our state. Two of them left notes suggesting they didn’t want to fail in their examinations. They belonged to the Hoshangabad and Sagar district respectively. But A never wrote anything on these lines in his note!

Then we come to a global level. In the past few days 24 students committed suicide (thanks Tejaswi for this piece of information). Not all of them had the same physics teacher who asked them to take tuitions.

But yet, since we probably don’t like the physics teacher we should definitely blame it on him. Just because he’s troubled us a lot by taunting us in class and stuff we MUST blame him and make it hard for him. Since we weren’t allowed to attend the annual sports day because we try to bomb the school, we should blame it on the school. Just because we aren’t selected in the annual torch light display team, we should blame it on the school. Just because we have nothing to do we should blame the education system. Right?

This is a call to those who think they know enough to start banging down doors of the temple of education demanding justice. How are you so sure that the claims made are true? In the last post somewhere I mentioned the possibility of the lad being a drug addict. I mentioned the POSSIBILITY  and those people had ants in their pants, imagine what should be the reaction of the school when the teacher is being ALLEGED of being guilty.

I don’t overrule the possibility of the teacher pressurising the student, but do you think that the boy would commit suicide just before the exam then?

And how would you explain the other kids who killed themselves?

This suicidal apocalypse has a root that must be dug into. The teachers were harsher in the 80’s still our parents respected them. Then why don’t we do so now?

It is true that exposed to the dejection caused by failure doesn’t come to a student before the 10th grade in the current pattern of education by CBSE and that is a good reason why students are committing suicide, but let’s question why in the first place did this system come into force? It was because students of middle school were committing suicide back then!

So why were THEY (the middle school kids) giving up their life? Because the parents were pressurizing them to get good grades! Ha! So it zeros up on the parents now, eh?

Now let’s relate this to the case of A. He never wanted to opt for a science stream. His parents forced him. Parents pressurized him equally. So, if the school WAS pressuring (the physics teacher to be precise) and he’s being held responsible, so the parents should be too!

Anyway, I won’t take A into consideration now as people are getting personal. But I’d like to clarify that in no way am I indifferent to his death. I lament it as much as you do. But that doesn’t mean I start burning effigies and creating unnecessary nuisance!

We are all civilised humans. We need to use our brains instead of our weapons. Rather we must  make our brains the best weapon!

And then, guys (the one’s who say the physics teacher is the only one who’s guilty), you can never corner him legally as poor A is dead and can’t testify. But do you know what you CAN do? Stop making coaching classes your second homes. You guys are promoting business by going to coaching classes. In my opinion, we must STOP taking coaching until we really need it. And even if we DO need it we should stay back and bug our own school teachers to teach us more of the subjects and clear the doubts. Coaching classes are a root to many issues.

Yes I too go to coaching classes and I won’t deny that…I’ll definitely justify myself! But we’ll get to that next time.

Stay smiling, stay civilized! Stay blessed!

Once again, Rest in peace A, you were loved and will be remembered.

PS: Sorry I never knew what to use as the title so I used this.

Love humanity !