Dead

She pulled the knife from her chest and smiled, “Was that supposed to hurt?” Every person in the room gasped as she stood there, the bloody knife in her hand, completely unaffected, her smile broadening by the second. It took two minutes for her to realize what had happened. An agonizing sting ran down her body, a sting called regret? With a frown, her fingers wandered to her chest, her eyes focused on the pool of blood at her feet. Her body felt weak. She fell on her knees, her legs unable to handle her weight. What did she just do? Slowly, she closed her eyes, only to open them again with a jolt.

This time, with a jerk of her head she pointed at her now dead daughter and said, “Another bitch down.”

 

Thought for the day

Children – the dainty petals with sweetness in every fold;

The angles of joy and happiness untold;

Yes, the very same children we are talking about whom you see begging bare feet, cleaning up benches and washing defiled utensils.

Yes, these are the very children who, on one hand, are called ‘as precious as gold’ and on the other are sold!

The very children we seek about, who go to work every morning

And are blasted in mines without any warnings.DSCN0406.JPG

You murmur, you hear, see and talk about their deprived state..

But do you do anything for their unlit fate?

Maybe it’s time you wake up..

Maybe it’s time you realize enough…

Let’s take a step forward and not just “think” about it!

Let’s help them out with a little effort and bliss !


 

Mates, today I want you to think a bit about the helpless children out there who are being tortured endlessly by means of child labor!

A few minutes of silence for them please ❤

Dedicate at least a few moments in your life helping a child get out of such circumstances – if you get a chance!

Pray for their fate!

Stay blessed! Keep smiling 🙂

 

Teaching Students with Disabilities – Accommodating Students with Dyslexia

Dyslexia, according to the dictionary, is a general term for disorders that involve difficulty in learning to read or interpret words, letters, and other symbols, but that do not affect general intelligence. Teaching students with dyslexia can be a challenging task, but not impossible.

Here are some pointers to help you with the education of these children of god!

The following will help you with engaging the students’ interest in the topic.

  • Maintaining a daily routine helps students who have a problem learning things.
  • Providing graphic organizers like outline charts or blank webs to be filled in during presentations can help students co relate between topics and concepts.
  • New or complicated information can be relayed in small steps that enable effective absorption of knowledge.
  • Along with verbal information, if teachers use handouts or other visuals, it becomes easy for students to understand material.
  • The teacher can write vocabulary words or pointers on the chalk board or overhead prior to the presentation. This will be effective later on when the students will co relate chains
  • A balance between large groups and small groups and amongst oral and visual perception should be maintained at all times.
  • A daily revision of previously learned lessons help students connect effectively to things taught anew. This practice should be emphasized.
  • It is very helpful to encourage students to repeat instructions in their own words to help them understand them.

Dyslexia students have various kinds of problems. For instance, some may have problem in oral presentation, some may have trouble spelling words correctly, and some may be unable to write letters or numbers, some may not be comfortable in group discussions and some may be unable to speak or visualize at a fast pace. Apart from this, teachers need to keep in mind that every student is different and has a different speed of assessing and understanding things. The following will be helpful in improving students’ response:

  • Some students may be able to answer in multiple choice selection or underlining methods as opposed to writing. Students who have problem writing their answers can be provided slates or individual chalk boards or they could be provided with extra writing space in papers.1100_9_things_you_shouldnt_say_to_your_child
  • Students can maintain an assignment diary or a calendar to note down deadlines, test dates, and other important things. They may even note done home assignments in them to keep track.
  • It is encouraged to give handouts or copies to dyslexia students rather than allowing them to copy wherever possible.
  • Students may have problem in maintain columns while performing mathematical operations. To solve this, they should be encouraged to turn the single lined notebooks vertically. It is certainly helpful!
  • To help students manage time effectively during exams, implication signs can be used to highlight important questions and matter.
  • Teacher can design worksheets starting with easy problems to tough ones. Success in the beginning motivates students.
  • Number lines, calculators, etc are helpful for students once they understand the mathematical operations so their use should be allowed.
  • Display of completed sample assignments help students to understand what is expected of them, thus drawing satisfactory results.
  • Pairing up peers is very helpful. Peers with different abilities may be paired to help during exams, laboratory work, etc. For instance, a peer can be assigned to read out mathematical problems to peers who have issues with reading.
  • Students who have issues regarding completing deadlines due to their slow writing speed or other such disabilities should be given extra time to turn in their work.

Hopefully the above mentioned points were helpful enough!

Dream – Be the Dreamer of YOUR dream! Let your kid live His/ Her life!

As seen nowadays, from childhood, a child is laden with dreams that are not his own but those of his parents. At every turning point, at every fork of life, he is dragged by his parents. He is led away from his talents and hobbies and told to study. At those moments, parents don’t realize that they are dragging their child away from what he is good at to something that probably is not in his capability. They don’t realize that the child feels enclosed and caged in a world that’s not his at all but the parents’. And that’s the starting point when stress starts building up in a child. A will to fly in the open skies, when suppressed frustrates him!

And when that same child reaches his teenage, he gets unruly. Just like when a caged animal is freed, he goes out of control taking undue advantage of the bit of freedom he gets. And then those parents complain that their teen is rowdy and juvenile. But you tell me now, is it right to expect a child to follow your dreams or to kill his own desires? If a child is good at painting and you force him to be a CA, what else do you expect from him but that he’d paint on his documents instead of calculating and then get kicked out of his job! Duh!cropped-download1.jpg

Parents will have to realize that by dumping the goals they’ve never achieved on their children they are spoiling their lives and are inviting delinquency in their kids, and as the saying goes, a balanced sustenance reaps the pink fruit.

So before forcing your kid to study study and study or compeling them to go in for science stream wait for a second and think if you’re actually showing him the right path or pushing him in for depression! Just befriend your kid from babyhood and instead of obliging him, discuss matters with him and mark my words- a guide is more helpful as compared to a map! So be his guide and not just a bossy old chap ordering away without troubling ‘bout his feelings.596879-6724-23

Offerings to God – a work of fiction!

Again, I wrote this when I was 14 – for a community magazine! 

Yay! This is my 50th post!


“And this year he bought me this beautiful diamond necklace. Isn’t it stunning? It’s worth five lakhs! And this sari is bought directly from the mill of Kanchi. Isn’t it…..” I tuned out of the conversation as my wife chatted away happily to observe my surroundings. The auspicious statue of goddess Durga was kept on the pedestal and looked as divine as anything. The holy priest was chanting away, there was an announcement that the aarti would begin in a few minutes and all along, in the background, was the general buzz of people chatting, children playing and chairs being pushed. All around there were hundreds of people settling down on the red chairs and waiting for the aarti to begin. The mandap was getting more and more suffocating as devotees piled in. Making my way around the elderly people already settled in the chairs, I got out of there to take a breath of fresh air.

Once outside, I stood below the banyan tree and took in a deep breath. My nostrils tingled, but not because of the air, I realized. It was the whiff of fresh, hot cutlets! I looked around at the numerous stalls of food and other crafts lining the mandap and spotted the source of this aroma. Tucked away in the corner of the line was a little stall with a huge crowd of hungry men. The board on top of the stall announced the sale of various varieties of cutlets and other fried stuff. To be frank, I’m a big foodie. The policy I followed was ‘live to eat’ and now that I had spied the food stall no one could have stopped me from going there. I was on my way when my cell phone beeped, declaring the arrival of a new message. I opened my inbox. A smile played on my lips as my son, Deb’s, face smiled up at me. He was currently posted in the US and sent me a recent snap of himself every week, on demand of his mother. I was going through our fond memories in my head, when I reached the stall. A young boy stood there, serving the people. I ordered a plate of mutton cutlet. As I was waiting for my order to be delivered, the young boy’s face struck me as a familiar one. He was no older than my son, I noticed. Neatly dressed but his clothes looked of a poor quality. As I looked on my iphone screen and once again saw my son’s face, it came to me! This young boy, who now stood here, serving me, was none other than Deb’s childhood best friend! The boy who now sold cutlets was, at one time, a topper in his class.

“Dulal?” I called out and was rewarded as the boy turned round.

“Yes, sir” he saw me and did a double take, “Mr. Chatterjee! Do sit down sir.” He offered me a stool, which I politely declined.

“It’s been a long time son. How are you doing?”

He excused himself as her mother, I assumed, replaced him. Once in a quieter place, he asked jovially about Deb.

“He’s posted in the US. But son, what about you? I mean you are such a talented young man…..anyway, how’s Mr. Sen doing?”

His face took on a sad smile and his eyes had a forlorn look, “Sir, he passed way as soon as you got a transfer to Delhi.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” His father was their family’s soul bread earner. His death explained the poor state they were in.

He nodded his bent head, and then looked up with a new smile, “Now I’m supporting the business!”

“That’s great news! So since when have you being doing this, I mean managing the business?”I still couldn’t believe that this capable boy was making cutlets in a stall!

“Well, I dropped school when I was in 10th so that’s probably from when.”

“Oh!” was all I could say.

“But…” he gave a sigh, “it is tough to keep up with the rising rates. I….we don’t know what will happen now,” suddenly he looked a lot older and wiser than his 25 yrs, “So we had no other options but to do what we can and that’s cooking!” His face brightened a little as he added, “We’ve got our own small dhaba in the outskirts. And it is quite popular now. So we make enough money to keep us going.” He gave a light shrug. “Just a minute sir, I think your order is ready.” He ran out towards his stall.

I sat there in a state of stunned speechlessness. The boy had said all that in perfect English, his manner groomed. The sun shone directly on me as I continued staring at nothing. The aarti had started inside. Loud bells were clanging, the drum beating steadily, rhythmically, through the opening of the flap of the tent, I could see my wife standing amongst her friends, the light rays of the sun shining off her necklace on which I had spent lakhs, but all it did was glitter in the sunshine. I looked down, at my shoes made of pure Italian leather over which I had spent thousands, but all it did was cover my feet which even a few hundred rupees shoe could. My eyes went to my wrist, which had on a limited edition watch worth a few hundred dollars, but it was something that showed me the same time as that displayed by a 100 rupee watch.

I thought of it in a different way now. I could buy all the luxuries of the world with my money, so couldn’t I educate this young man? Only if I would have! My son being an average student was today in the US so it was worth contemplating what this fellow could have done with proper provisions!1231701_467516106680694_842569904_n

I tilted my head up to see the beautiful mandap decorated to look like a castle and I noticed the vigor with which the Durga Pooja was being celebrated. Surely, hundreds of thousands of rupees would have gone over all this. And hundreds of thousands of people would have donated. I took in the large crowd standing in the mandap and realized what a big community we were. Couldn’t we spend a little of the funds for a good cause? Couldn’t we part take in the development of our country, and uplift our community? And I’m sure that this step would cost us nothing more than a few thousands but would bring about happiness on many people’s faces, would brighten a lot of futures.

A new realization dawned upon me. I became a changed person that day. My outlook was different now. And all I wanted to do now was to put this idea into action and bring about a change. To spread this refreshed conscience. And to eat my cutlets before they got cold…….  🙂


Ps: I won’t be blogging for about 10 days from now!! So long! Until then – a hearty cheery smile and stay blessed ❤

Do leave comments!!

Responsibility – A work of fiction!

Written originally for a school presentation ! 


“Any complaints?”

“Oh come on Anya. You know your work is flawless! I just don’t understand why you’re stuck up with this boutique. You should go for one of those big fashion chains…” Namita, a daily customer of the boutique, babbled, picking up her delivery and proceeding to pay.

The bright smile on Anya’s pretty little, twenty nine year old face shrunk a bit as she averted her gaze. Why bring up this topic, she winced inwardly, deciding not to answer her.

“Answer me!” Namita prodded, “Do you want me to help you with your CV?”

“Uh-no,” Anya replied, “I had done this, years ago. They say I need a degree in Designing and Arts to qualify for a seat…”

She paused for that to sink in before perking up her expression and returning the change.

“And why, in the lord’s name, did you not go for it when you were younger?”

“Ah-a long story!” Anya replied, her face blushing.

“I love long stories,” Namita answered with a grin, making herself comfortable on the plastic chair.

With a sigh, Anya took her seat behind the counter, her elbow resting on the counter top, “Dates back to when I completed my 12th with a 95% in physics. I dreamt of going in for NIFT entrances, you know National Institute of Fashion Tech.”

Namita nodded for her to go on.

“And so, I revealed my wishes to Mum and Dad. Dad, being the typical traditional fellow he is, immediately objected claiming I was born to be an engineer.

On the other hand, being the typical rebel I am, told him what I thought of his great idea f making me an engineer.

Daily there were squabbles and finally we decided I’d appear for both the entrance exams.

In my opinion, both my exams went off well. The condition was I’d opt for the subject I score better in. I passed JEE with a placement in one of the best colleges. Dad was overjoyed. But I waited for my NIFT results…which never came. I never lost hopes, but when months passed and it was time for me to start with my engineering, I had to give in. Seems like I failed. I did my engineering. It was tough. I’m a B.Tech.  in computer software. My husband’s the MD if an IT company. But I can’t work with him. You know why?”

Namita shook her head.

“Because I’m an engineer without any knowledge of engineering! I mean I can’t program a simple thing because when I sit to do it, my head spins and I fell like ripping my skull apart!” Anya paused to take a breath and continued, “What do you suggest I do? I tried whatever was needed but…well now it’s too late to ponder over that!”

There was a chime at the door. Anya stood up as a man in his mid thirties entered the boutique.

“Mrs. Anya Tiwari?” he announced looking at the two ladies.

“That’d be me…” Anya said, “Tiwari’s my maiden name,” she gave in the way of an explanation to Namita’s inquiring look.

“Nice to meet you madam. I’m Tarun Halat and I’m here to give you this,” he said, fishing an envelope out of his bag.

“What’s this?” she asked, turning the big thing in her hands.

“Well, well, well! You see ma’am my father, Late Mr. Arvind Halat was a postman,” he waited for her reaction, when none came, he continued, “About ten years ago, he won a lottery of half a crore through those stupid games we see at TV stations. Well they’re not so stupid after all! Ok, so to talk of the envelope, he brought a new house and stuff and left his old coop locked up. Recently he passed away and we got the opportunity of sifting through his belongings. Inside his cubbyhole, we found a whole bag of undelivered letters dating back to the day he resigned. As the irresponsible man he was, he forgot all about these. But we decided to turn them in to the rightful owners…so here it is. We went to your home on the Prithvi Road, your parents told me I’d find you here…”

“Oh,” Anya whispered, reading the address on the envelope having a NIFT seal. Peeling off the seal, she slid out a worksheet along with a letter.

Tarun and Namita waited patiently as Anya read and re read the contents. Her eyes watered as she looked up to the two of them. Tears welled up those beautiful black eyes as she repeated the printed lines in her mind…

…having secured a merit position in the NIFT entrance exam, you are bestowed with the privilege of selecting the institute of your choice…
Reply within a period of ten days…

“Why have you brought this to me…” she whispered.

“Pardon?” Tarun said, leaning in to her better.

“WHY HAVE YOU BROUGHT THIS STUPID THING TO ME…” she yelled, tossing the envelope by his feet, “You realize what this is? You want me to cry all over again? You to make me REGRET?”

“Ma’am,” he tried to cut her.

“If only you had brought it ten years back…if only…” she whispered, stumbling on her chair and turning her face in an unsuccessful attempt to hide her tears.

“I’m sorry, from my father’s side…” he began.

With a jerk, she looked straight at him, “YOUR FATHER SPOILT MY LIFE MR. TARUN HALAT. GET LOST! I DON’T WANNA SEE YOUR FACE…” she hissed.

Later on in the day, she realized she was wrong in scolding him. He had helped her and she had been ungrateful. But she had to vent out her feelings…no?believe9

Ten years, ten long years she had lived the life of shameful failure, had believed she’d FAILED not just in the entrance exam but in her life! A life of low self esteem, dismay, and uselessness is something worth crying after…

And all this at the cost of a man’s irresponsibility?

Contemplable eh?

A Villain with a Heart

I wrote it when I was 11 !!


My eyes misted as I clapped for my son who marched up the stage to accept his medal. I was really proud for the deeds my son had done as a military commander for the country but the cause of my tears was the memory of a friend, Jackhans_7507

Jack was an excellent shooter and a famous (in the underworld) personality. How did we meet? Well, he saved my life.

It was a chilly morning of December when I was walking down the Eve Street, unaware of the danger in store. The locality was deserted and except me there were only a couple of other peoplea young man and an old womanon the street. Everything was quiet when suddenly a shot rang out, shattering the stillness. In an instant the young man had his gun out, aimed at the old women. The woman, surprisingly, lost her limpness and ran for cover behind a wall (and she too had a gun) – she turned out to be a man. I shrieked as someone grabbed me from behind and blindfolded me. I was carried in, perhaps, a car to some musty place, which turned out to be the dungeons of the Webster House. My blinds were removed but my hands and feet were securely tied and then I was thrown in one of the
cells.

Sweat poured through my body, all sorts of thoughts passing my mind. I looked around myself and found to my surprise that there were a dozen more people in the vault, all unconscious. They were all VIPs (except a couple of girls who were simple citizens like me)relations of different ministers whom I knew by faces .For a minute I felt honored to meet such people but then again the thoughts of the gangsters filled my head. Otherwise, the room vault was completely bare and was illuminated by the glow of the only light bulb present there. I tried to wriggle out of my bonds but they were tied quite professionally. At that moment the metallic door opened to reveal a lot of rogues.

They were all dressed in black and were carrying AK-47s in their shoulder holsters. I got scared when they started towards me but they didn’t even seem to notice me and passed on. They carried the unconscious figures of the VIPs out one by one and closed the door. Now there were only three of us left in the cell- the two, partially conscious, girls and myself. Once they were fully recovered I tried to talk them into telling me what the whole affair was about but they were too scared to utter a single word.

After a few hours of silence, there came a grating sound and the door opened. In came a man, closing the door behind him. He was dressed fully in black like all other thugs; he advanced towards me with a sharp knife gleaming in his hand. I screamed with fright assuming that he was planning to kill me. The man gave me a sharp look with a finger on his lips; I understood that I had to be quiet. When he came a little closer, I gasped in recognition- he was none other than the underworld face whose picture was on the wanted list of criminals on the papers, famous by the name of the Jackal.

He walked up to me with the sharp blade, and with one stroke of his arm…

I closed my eyes, waiting for death to come but instead I felt the grips of ropes loosen around my wrists. I slowly reopened my eyes and gazed at him who was setting the other girls free. My mind still wasn’t ready to accept what was happening, I was sure that he was going to assassinate me but my heart opposed it as his eyes showed concern though he appeared to be ruthless.

The man motioned us all to sit and said, “The doors are heavily guarded at present. It’ll be easier to get out at noon, the guards at that shift are easier to handle.” I sat close to him and asked in a hesitating manner, “Aren’t you the-“

“Jackal, yeah!” he said interrupting me. I sat quietly waiting for an explanation but when none came I again inquired, “What’s going on here and how come you saving lives instead destroying…I…please, no offence or anything intended.”

“None taken. And about your question, the whole thing’s this- these people are an international group of terrorists, want money and their dangerous fellas set free from the clutches of the police. They’re holding important people as hostages. And about why I’m helpin’ you’ll- it’s a long story but in short” he sighed “my sister, the only one I’ve ever had to call a family, was abducted and was brutally murdered by a group of outlaws”, for a moment his eyes were filled with misery and sorrow but in no time, he regained his ruthless attitude and resumed, “I can’t see innocent children and women killed and I came forward. And my reputation helped me to gain the terrorists trust, so here I am.”

“So you mean to say that you entered as a terrorist but are actually working for the government?”

“Not. For. The government.” He said this slowly yet furiously. “I told you how much I cared for my sister Laura. When she was in danger I was not there to save her; and I find… peace on saving the innocent. And the government is actually after me, ‘cause I’m a wanted criminal, am I not?”

A criminal saving women and children, weird.

I sat for a while, looking at the man and then extended my hand, “I’m Jane Maria Christie.” He gave a quick two fingered salute saying, “Jack Sullivan”

After a sleepy hour or so, Jack stood up, asking us to do the same. “Now, follow me and remember-if there are any shootouts, stick to the ground. Clear?” We all nodded.

With gesturing to be quiet, he moved out of the door with all of us tailing him. After turning a corner we followed him at a brisk pace towards the door, but Jack came to an abrupt stop and to our horror, we were face to face with one of the assassins.

He, at first ignored our expression and gave Jack a friendly smile and extended his palm, asking for a pass. From Jack’s expression it was clear that he wasn’t expecting anything of this sort. When Jack was unable to provide him with what he wanted, his expression became grave. He looked first at Jack and then at us, and at once took out his gun. Then there was quite a lot of shooting between a few terrorists and Jack. As instructed, we went down on our bellies and crawled all the way to the door.

“Run, run for your lives, go to gate 4, hurry” came the orders from the wounded Jack as he was still blocking the door so that the terrorists couldn’t follow us. Unwillingly, we left him to fight for himself and ran out. Whatsoever, we were being followed by a couple of gangsters. Once outside, we saw that the atmosphere was tense as if preparing for a war. We saw on a city map displayed on a board that gate 4 was a military base and was not too far from where we were standing. We ran at top speed, stopping only once to catch our breath. We finally reached the base (where one of my companions fainted out of tiredness) where noticing our conditions, we were carried inside.

In a week, we came to know that the terrorists were under control-all because of our army-and the VIPs were located.

The next morning’s paper showed that several of the gangsters were found dead on the door of the Webster House (I knew it was Jack’s work). It also explained that the army men were under cover, patrolling the city (like the old woman who turned out to be a man) and it even revealed that the Jackal was found dead too, outside the dungeons.

Every one still thinks that he was a companion of the terrorists. No one knows the truth about the daring hero. Now, 20 yrs have passed but the incident is still fresh in my mind. I’m really happy to think that I got a chance to know such a great person who gave up his life just for three citizens whom he didn’t even know. This was not exactly a friendly meeting but to me he would always be a friend-a savior.

There are many villains in this world, but this one was different …he was a villain with a heart.